Saturday, September 06, 2025
ESSAY - HOW DID I SURVIVE TO BECOME AN ADULT?
BY DONOVAN BALDWIN
We protect our children. That's only natural.
When I look back on MY childhood, in a much different era, place, and with different dangers, I am sometimes surprised that I survived.
I spent days alone in the woods climbing trees, encountering snakes and strangers, finding all sorts of things which I inspected without fear of contamination, including discarded magazines which enhanced my knowledge of anatomy... somewhat, swam in the bay, shot guns, used knives, threw rocks and shot whittled arrows from a homemade bow, at people doing the same to me.
I rode my bicycle in traffic every day, in my early teens getting up at 3 A.M. to ride my bike to an isolated place to get my newspapers and deliver them in the dark by myself.
Had the usual boyhood fights and arguments, and no-holds-barred football games and wrestling matches. Climbed everything... trees, walls, and even a couple of buildings.
Still, somehow, I made it here.
As a grown up, in dangerous occupations, I survived, at least in part, because I knew what I was doing.
As a kid?
Not sure HOW I made it.
Just a spin of Lady Luck's wheel, I guess.
Anyway, that, and Sister Mary Fides, and that dear little storytelling Irish priest, Father Cunningham, set my imagination in gear, and on fire, so that the boy's body, and mind, took it from there, and always did something with the memories.
Just meandering thoughts arriving here this morning.
When I look back on MY childhood, in a much different era, place, and with different dangers, I am sometimes surprised that I survived.
I spent days alone in the woods climbing trees, encountering snakes and strangers, finding all sorts of things which I inspected without fear of contamination, including discarded magazines which enhanced my knowledge of anatomy... somewhat, swam in the bay, shot guns, used knives, threw rocks and shot whittled arrows from a homemade bow, at people doing the same to me.
I rode my bicycle in traffic every day, in my early teens getting up at 3 A.M. to ride my bike to an isolated place to get my newspapers and deliver them in the dark by myself.
Had the usual boyhood fights and arguments, and no-holds-barred football games and wrestling matches. Climbed everything... trees, walls, and even a couple of buildings.
Still, somehow, I made it here.
As a grown up, in dangerous occupations, I survived, at least in part, because I knew what I was doing.
As a kid?
Not sure HOW I made it.
Just a spin of Lady Luck's wheel, I guess.
Anyway, that, and Sister Mary Fides, and that dear little storytelling Irish priest, Father Cunningham, set my imagination in gear, and on fire, so that the boy's body, and mind, took it from there, and always did something with the memories.
Just meandering thoughts arriving here this morning.
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Labels: boyhood, donovan baldwin, essay, growing up
Friday, September 05, 2025
ESSAY - MAVERICK AND ME OR DADDY WOULD RISE UP OUT OF HIS GRAVE
BY DONOVAN BALDWIN
In the old American TV western, Maverick, gambler Bret Maverick (James Garner, in the photo) often handed out some aphorism preceded by, "As my old pappy used to say..."
When my old-school ways are mentioned, I often say, "My daddy would come up out of his grave if I didn't...", hold the door for a lady, apologize for an improper word (Excuse my French... with apologies now to the French!), or some other anachronistic behavior.
Well, a lot of what I, and Bret Maverick, often attribute to our respective fathers, actually came to us through the culture we were raised in, and the words and actions of many other people. I can remember such "lessons" which pop up in daily life.
Such as the time my drill sergeant in Basic Combat Training, politely, and "with all due respect", took the side of a bunch of cold, shivering soldiers, and told a young "shave tail" second lieutenant, that he was wrong.
Or the boss that quietly taught good behavior and proper leadership without a word, or a "dear little Irish priest" who started my life long love of reading by telling stories.
Or the stranger who suddenly showed up and did the right thing... which I witnessed... and learned from.
You never know who's watching... and what they're learning.
Said "good morning" to a teenage boy with ear buds in this morning. Maybe he'll remember... if he heard me.
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Like this essay by Donovan Baldwin? Maybe you will also like the essay "Sorry, Yoda".
Labels: Bret Maverick, donovan baldwin, essay, respect
Monday, August 18, 2025
ESSAY - SORRY, YODA
BY DONOVAN BALDWIN
Often these days, people are praised for what they do. Not often enough, probably.
However, I tend to look around for people who try.
Everybody likes to quote Yoda (Star Wars) "Do. Or do not. There is no try."
Sorry, Mr. Yoda, sir, while that may work for a Jedi Knight, we mortals need a less demanding code for daily combat with the tax collector, the traffic meter, kids, age, and the unopenable jar lid (even by a Jedi Knight).
In fact "do" often only happens after many a "try", and, a goodly number of "fails".
Don't get me wrong. I LIKE Yoda, and his homey little aphorisms. They CAN be inspiring and thought-provoking.
However, just because something SOUNDS like it makes sense, doesn't mean it does.
No offense to the little green guy, and, he was a Jedi Master attempting to train his Padawan (Jedi apprentice), so he must have had something on the ball. I have to respect him and his 900 years of wisdom... which I doubt can be condensed into pithy little sayings, but, a noble "try" nonetheless.
Still, out of the mouths of babes, and little green Jedi's, can come pearls of wisdom. Often, in fact, it's not the pearls themselves, as much as the value we place on them, and what we wear them with, that makes them beautiful and valuable.
So, Master Yoda, though I may not "do", I WILL continue to "try".
Hope that suffices.
 |
| Jedi Master Yoda |
However, I tend to look around for people who try.
Everybody likes to quote Yoda (Star Wars) "Do. Or do not. There is no try."
Sorry, Mr. Yoda, sir, while that may work for a Jedi Knight, we mortals need a less demanding code for daily combat with the tax collector, the traffic meter, kids, age, and the unopenable jar lid (even by a Jedi Knight).
In fact "do" often only happens after many a "try", and, a goodly number of "fails".
Don't get me wrong. I LIKE Yoda, and his homey little aphorisms. They CAN be inspiring and thought-provoking.
However, just because something SOUNDS like it makes sense, doesn't mean it does.
No offense to the little green guy, and, he was a Jedi Master attempting to train his Padawan (Jedi apprentice), so he must have had something on the ball. I have to respect him and his 900 years of wisdom... which I doubt can be condensed into pithy little sayings, but, a noble "try" nonetheless.
Still, out of the mouths of babes, and little green Jedi's, can come pearls of wisdom. Often, in fact, it's not the pearls themselves, as much as the value we place on them, and what we wear them with, that makes them beautiful and valuable.
So, Master Yoda, though I may not "do", I WILL continue to "try".
Hope that suffices.
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Labels: donovan baldwin, essay, Jedi Knight, Yoda
Saturday, May 24, 2025
ESSAY - READING CLASSICS
Speaking of learning to love books, especially, "The Classics", he made the point that many readers, especially young ones, are not interested because these books ARE classics that they are told they should "work" to learn, rather than as exciting, inspiring stories, often full of adventure and mystery.
He met a young girl from a French farm family, who was excited at reading "The History of Rome" for the umpteenth time, comparing it, as a tale of adventure, to other, dry, factual books that were available to her.
I thought of my own bonding to poetry.
We moved to an old house in 1949, and there, on the bookshelves for many years of my youth, was a leather bound book of poetry.
One day, in my teens, the soft leather binding caused me to pick it up, and browse through it, in a typical bored-teenager fashion, rejecting poem after poem.
Suddenly I came upon one which excited my young, adventure-craving mind, molded by the tales of Robert Louis Stevenson.
Having read that poem, and having experienced an epiphany of sorts, I searched the book for others. There, hidden, among love poems (anathema to a teenage boy); and idyllic, again, to a teenage boy, laughable descriptions of nature, I found more high adventure. I read one after another of these stories in rhyme, presented in short form, more powerful for the intensity packed into the few carefully chosen words, and images created in my mind by the poets.
I was hooked. Lost that book for a few years, but recovered it recently, thanks to the efforts and keen eye of my sister.
------
Labels: Abbé Ernest Dimnet, donovan baldwin, essay, poet, poetry, reading classics, the art of thinking
Saturday, May 17, 2025
ESSAY - UNDERSTANDING LANGUAGE VS. COMPREHENDING LANGUAGE
BY DONOVAN BALDWIN
I had three years of Latin in high school, and was trained by the U.S. Army in German and Polish (most of which I have forgotten due to lack of use). I've encountered some lessons which went beyond the language.
A story...
One German instructor, Herr Trautman, told us a story,
When he came to America, he had learned a lot of English from books... mystery stories of the Mickey Spillane, tough guy detective type. Wanting to seem conversant in English, and the language of shooting, he entered a gun shop and asked to buy a "gat". The clerk looked at him in confusion, so he asked for a "roscoe", a "heater".
Eventually he got the message and just said, "gun".
He was surprised the clerk didn't call the police.
While a lot of the human condition and its interactions are the same from culture to culture, often encapsulated as language to language, there are both large and small differences which will never quite "translate" completely.
Even when we speak the "same language", can I truly understand the significance of Guy Fawkes day, or be as stirred by the skirl of bagpipes as a patriotic Scot is... people of my ancestral heritage?
How much harder is it to understand, "get into" the mind, and heart, of someone from India, Russia,
A story...
One German instructor, Herr Trautman, told us a story,
When he came to America, he had learned a lot of English from books... mystery stories of the Mickey Spillane, tough guy detective type. Wanting to seem conversant in English, and the language of shooting, he entered a gun shop and asked to buy a "gat". The clerk looked at him in confusion, so he asked for a "roscoe", a "heater".
Eventually he got the message and just said, "gun".
He was surprised the clerk didn't call the police.
While a lot of the human condition and its interactions are the same from culture to culture, often encapsulated as language to language, there are both large and small differences which will never quite "translate" completely.
Even when we speak the "same language", can I truly understand the significance of Guy Fawkes day, or be as stirred by the skirl of bagpipes as a patriotic Scot is... people of my ancestral heritage?
How much harder is it to understand, "get into" the mind, and heart, of someone from India, Russia,
Afghanistan, or Iraq?
It's something that can only be done with effort, practice, and a will to understand more than just words... because word to word translations don't always convey thought to thought.
It's something that can only be done with effort, practice, and a will to understand more than just words... because word to word translations don't always convey thought to thought.
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Labels: comprehension, donovan baldwin, essay, language, understanding
Tuesday, May 13, 2025
ESSAY - TRIGGER WORDS
When I was growing up, and as an adult, most of us, maybe all of us, had never heard of "trigger words."
That seems to be a pretty popular expression these days. I guess so many people are having trouble adapting to the real world, wanting safe places and such, that they're psychoanalyzing themselves or picking up psychological phraseology... seeking a way to define what they see as their "problem."
An easy way to justify a reaction to something is to say one thing caused it... a trigger word.
We used to say, "that reminded me", or "that took me back", or "I had forgotten about that until _____ reminded me".
I don't like to use "trigger word(s)" in my speech because that's a trigger word for me, and I don't believe that complex problems should always be assumed to have simple solutions. For some people a "trigger word" is such because they've never had to face enough real life to know the event is common and likely to be encountered many times in life.
I have worked for and with psychologists (before "trigger word" became a popular phrase. I have taken my own family to various counselors (upon recommendation), and sat through some egregious b___ s___.
Before I go any further, let me say that I have known good counsellors, mediocre counsellors, and downright stupid, self-centered counsellors. There ARE good ones out there, but, as in any profession or occupation, there will be "The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly"... apologies to Clint Eastwood.
When my children were referred to a counsellor, the first thing he did was tell us an old family story of his... which I had just read in a copy of Psychology Today magazine in his waiting room. Oddly enough, I had read the same exact story in a Reader's Digest a couple of years before that.
I won't go into the ups and downs, and ins and outs of all I have personally and directly observed... we could be here all day, but, beware self-diagnosis, and approach even the opinions of professionals with a healthy skepticism... especially in the social media driven world of the internet.
And do NOT assume that every problem can be traced to the use of "trigger words" by others. Sometimes the problem is we have taken on someone else's problem, and allow bad feelings to become terrible feelings.
Recently, in a conversation of my teenage daughter's attempted suicide several years ago, I was "triggered" terribly, but took the time to converse and explain events and experiences to someone who truly cared, someone I truly wanted to know what had happened, how I felt... someone who had previously warned ME that they had "trigger words" that made them upset and angry.
Also, for ME, having spent 21 years in the military, the word "trigger" carries a lot more weight than for someone from a civilian environment... where triggers can kill and destroy. Maybe that's why "trigger word" is such a trigger word for me.
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Labels: counselling, essay, psychological triggers, trigger, trigger words
Thursday, April 24, 2025
ESSAY: THOUGHTS, OPINIONS, AND BELIEFS
On many issues, I have thoughts, opinions, and beliefs. But, I have limited access to facts... and facts include outcomes. If I don't know what actually caused the problem, and I don't actually know all the possible solutions (the ones which could be applied at THIS time), and I cannot KNOW the future outcome of any "solution", HOW can I KNOW that MY choice is any better than another of several others?
If my neighbor "believes" as strongly as I do, yet as without knowledge as I, in his or her interpretation and solution, what makes mine "best", or even "better"? It is a complicated world we live in.
Experts and facts can be found to support every side of any multifaceted problem or event. We hire people, ordinary people, politicians, to sort through this morass of information and misinformation, and reach decisions for us.
T
They, human and limited as they are, hire other humans to hunt down, summarize, and encapsulate information on the given problem(s), and then, take it upon themselves, as we asked, to make decisions for us, based upon the results of this research... AND their own, quite human, thoughts, opinions, and beliefs.
THEN, we either idolize them and put them on pedestals reserved for the gods, or we castigate and reject them, demanding they be cast into the lowest depths of hell.
I am NOT fond of career politicians, but, I don't want their job either.
WHAT MAKES SHAKLEE PRODUCTS DIFFERENT?
Labels: beliefs, donovan baldwin, essay, opinions, thoughts
Saturday, March 29, 2025
ESSAY - AN OPINON ON OPINIONS
But, there are a couple of other reasons.
I have an opinion. It may not be yours. That doesn't mean I don't like, or, even love you. It just means we disagree on something.
Sure, it's bigger stuff than which side of the plate the fork goes on, but, still, our 'opinions' are not necessarily 'facts', and, you generally need facts to form solutions to real problems, and opinions on HOW something can or should be done are not solutions.
You need facts about the problem to come up with a solution. and then you need facts about what can be done, and what the results will be when you create the solution.
People with different opinions, about the problem, about the solution, or both, can be "wrong", or at each others' throats, even if they agree on the facts.
The problem is that the facts, as the Porter Wagoner song says, "The Cold Hard Facts Of Life", are very seldom known to us...the opinionated public.
I have worked for four governmental agencies, often being made aware of real facts that the public did not know...sometimes because they were classified, sometimes because it would have taken some formal training sessions to bring 'the public' up to speed where they actually knew what was going on.
I have worked for and with some businesses, where I heard loud, long, and violent complaints from competitors, customers, and parties who didn't even have skin in the game about these organizations' motives, actions, and goals. Most of these complaints originated out of ignorance of what the organization actually intended to do, and/or actually did.
You and I are free to have and voice our opinions about the problem and the solution. In most cases, these thoughts will NOT be based on facts, at least not the real facts.
I used to do a lot of 'due diligence' tracking down the 'facts' on what people posted about political and economic issues. I gave up. Many times, the 'facts' were completely wrong. Sometimes they were twisted or misunderstood. But, in most instances, liberal or conservative, if you must have labels, there was no way of knowing all the facts.
All one could do was form an opinion...and, perhaps, state it.
It's not worth getting in a fight over opinions.
That's my opinion, and, it's not worth getting in a fight over either.
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Labels: donovan baldwin, essay, opinions
Monday, March 24, 2025
ESSAY - READING INTERESTING BOOKS
 |
| The Art of Thinking (1928) by Abbé Ernest Dimnet |
He told a story to illustrate this:
He met a young girl from a French farm family, who was excited at reading "The History of Rome" for the umpteenth time, comparing it, as a tale of adventure, to other, dry, factual books that were available to her.
I thought of my own bonding to poetry.
We moved to an old house in 1949, and there, on the bookshelves for many years of my youth, was a leather bound book of poetry.
One day, in my teens, the soft leather binding caused me to pick it up, and browse through it, in a typical bored-teenager fashion, rejecting poem after poem.
Suddenly I came upon one which excited my young, adventure-craving mind, molded by the tales of Robert Louis Stevenson.
Having read that poem, and having experienced an epiphany of sorts, I searched the book for others. There, hidden, among love poems (anathema to a teenage boy); and idyllic, again, to a teenage boy, laughable descriptions of nature, I found more high adventure. I read one after another of these stories in rhyme, presented in short form, more powerful for the intensity packed into the few carefully chosen words, and images created in my mind by the poets.
I was hooked. Lost that book for a few years, but recovered it recently, thanks to the efforts and keen eye of my sister.
------
Like this essay by Donovan Baldwin? Perhaps you might like Freedom At Forty-Eight, Thoughts Of A Newly Divorced Man.
Labels: Abbé Ernest Dimnet, donovan baldwin, essay, History of Rome, poetry, the art of thinking
Saturday, March 22, 2025
ESSAY - CAN YOU WALK 10 MILES?
Forget the surrounding verbiage....
"ask yourself -
Am I able to walk ten miles with ease?"
Got that? A physician of the day assumed an ordinary person would be able to walk 10 miles "with ease"!
We forget that, before the automobile, people DID walk everywhere, unless they had a horse or cart, and EVERYTHING, or nearly everything, was done by hand.
I pride myself at age 75 of being able to walk 3 miles. I know that I have, in my younger days, run 6 miles, and have done forced road marches in the army, but, walk 10 miles with ease... simply because that's how you get around?
Nope. Got it pretty easy, overall.
SPONSORED BY REVITOL SKINCARE PRODUCTS
Labels: donovan baldwin, essay, exercise, health, walking
Wednesday, March 19, 2025
ESSAY - LESSONS OF A BAGBOY - HIS TRAINING
In the 1960's. one of my early jobs in Pensacola, Florida, was as a bag boy for Delchamps, a regional Gulf Coast grocery chain.Delchamps Store, Downtown Pensacola.
Did my first training there.
I was also going to double as a cashier, not regular, just helping out as needed.
On the payroll, I spent a couple of days BEING SHOWN how to PROPERLY bag groceries... what went where, how to square and load the bag for safe and comfortable carrying. I was even told to make decisions based on customer needs... an older, frail customer should not have bags as heavy as a healthy younger customer.
I was also TAUGHT how to run the register AND recognize produce, partly by ringing up (on an old style "push every button" cash register) over and over again and having my work checked.
I was also taught how to give back correct amounts by a technique... COUNTING BACK CHANGE... which NO ONE today seems to know how to do! Very little math involved, an almost automatic process.
I was then sent to a training store where I, teenage bag boy, remember, just had to put stuff in a bag and carry it to the car... worked side-by-side with experienced bag boys who showed me the training in action.
I was also introduced to TIPS, because bag boys were not paid even minimum wage back then. I learned that the better the service, the better the tips and I, a teenage bag boy, who put things in bags and carried them to cars for people, learned that I could make much more than minimum wage by being friendly and polite and giving good service.
Today, you're lucky if your stuff arrives home in one piece, you have to wait on yourself in stores, customer service seems to be a forgotten art, and people DEMAND to be paid at a certain level whether they give the kind of service they're being paid for or not.
Side note: I also worked for a while on a construction crew AT minimum wage at the time. One day all the guys got excited. We were going to work for a couple of weeks on a government (federal) contract. When I asked what the big deal was, they just said, "Wait until you see your paycheck!"
Well, the paychecks for the period on the government project were about 3 times what I had been paid, and about 3 times what workers of my job skill were paid in the area.
Years later, I, as an accountant and business manager, set up the budget for a government project. I was told to triple my original salary (and related costs) estimates, based on fair wages paid in the area, because this was going to be a government (federal) project and the people had to be paid according to a schedule set out by legislators in Washington.
Times change... bet the costs of government projects don't... except upwards.
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SPONSORED BY REVITOL SKINCARE PRODUCTS
Labels: bagboy, Delchamps, donovan baldwin, essay, Florida, Pensacola, training
Tuesday, March 04, 2025
ESSAY - MY LIFE WITH ADHD
BY DONOVAN BALDWIN
My life with adult (and childhood) ADD/ADHD.
I spent the first years of my life being told I was "lazy", or "not working to my potential"... and also my parents were told and they told me too. Most of the time I loved learning but was incredibly bored with how the material was presented... and I have no idea how many times I got in trouble for looking out of the window, especially when I had already grasped the meaning, context, or information.
Life in the U. S. Army (21 years), especially that time spent as a platoon sergeant was miserable, although I loved being in the army, but, if there was ever a person with an ongoing case of "imposter syndrome", it was me.
I was diagnosed with ADHD in my 60's, although I had long suspected that was the problem... one of them, at least. I first took medicine for it, Adderall, then, and was blown away. I never knew my mind was that capable.
I reveled in the feelings for a while. It was an unbelievable experience to hang onto a thought for longer than a few seconds (except when writing, as now). I was in awe of my newfound ability to actually look at a row of books and pick out individual titles and authors, and think about them as individual items and ideas, rather than a blur of unconnected inputs.
And, aside, part of being able to hang on to a thought while writing, is being able to go back, read what I have already said, and be able to "pick up" the train of thought. Also, the predictive nature of typing especially... my fingers and brain have already agreed on the next thoughts and words.
Anyway, after a while, I retired. The medicine was not good for my blood pressure, and, I wanted to let my creative brain play anyway... so I quit them.
I miss the meds sometimes.
Last night, for example, I read the same paragraph twice... simply because at the end of it, although I remembered the premise, I had forgotten the words. So, this morning, I went back and read it again... except... halfway through, I decided to write this... starting with some nebulous idea about having read the paragraph 2 1/2 times...
Wonder what it says...
Guess I'll go back and read it again. I really liked it... I think.
Wonder what I intended to say when I started this....
Guess I'll have to go back and read what I wrote to find out... if I said whatever it was I meant to say.
I was diagnosed with ADHD in my 60's, although I had long suspected that was the problem... one of them, at least. I first took medicine for it, Adderall, then, and was blown away. I never knew my mind was that capable.
I reveled in the feelings for a while. It was an unbelievable experience to hang onto a thought for longer than a few seconds (except when writing, as now). I was in awe of my newfound ability to actually look at a row of books and pick out individual titles and authors, and think about them as individual items and ideas, rather than a blur of unconnected inputs.
And, aside, part of being able to hang on to a thought while writing, is being able to go back, read what I have already said, and be able to "pick up" the train of thought. Also, the predictive nature of typing especially... my fingers and brain have already agreed on the next thoughts and words.
Anyway, after a while, I retired. The medicine was not good for my blood pressure, and, I wanted to let my creative brain play anyway... so I quit them.
I miss the meds sometimes.
Last night, for example, I read the same paragraph twice... simply because at the end of it, although I remembered the premise, I had forgotten the words. So, this morning, I went back and read it again... except... halfway through, I decided to write this... starting with some nebulous idea about having read the paragraph 2 1/2 times...
Wonder what it says...
Guess I'll go back and read it again. I really liked it... I think.
Wonder what I intended to say when I started this....
Guess I'll have to go back and read what I wrote to find out... if I said whatever it was I meant to say.
Anyway, I've forgotten what the paragraph was about.
Oh well. Welcome to my world.
Oh well. Welcome to my world.
Is this where I'm supposed to say, "Look! A squirrel!!!"
-----
SPONSORED BY REVITOL SKINCARE PRODUCTS
Labels: Adderall, ADHD, army, donovan baldwin, essay, forgetting, imposter syndrome, platoon sergeant, remembering
Wednesday, February 19, 2025
ESSAY - TEACHING TRUCK DRIVERS
BY DONOVAN BALDWIN
I used to teach truck drivers.
Among my students were people from all walks of life: housewives, college graduates, students of philosophy, managers, cops, rodeo riders, fitness instructors, and, overall, damned fine people.
We spent weeks training them to drive safely, yet, one of their most common remarks was, "People drive crazy!!! Don't they (the people in cars) realize they're putting everybody at risk?" and, the biggies, "I USED to drive like that, but now I know better." and "NOW I understand why you guys (have) to do that..."
Want to see some scary driving? Become a truck driver where you can drive thousands of miles across the country, with an excellent view of four-wheelers (car drivers), apparently trying to kill themselves and ignoring the danger they pose to people around them.
Want to see some scary driving? Become a truck driver where you can drive thousands of miles across the country, with an excellent view of four-wheelers (car drivers), apparently trying to kill themselves and ignoring the danger they pose to people around them.
Not you, you say?
Reminder; one of the most common comments was along the line of, "Oh my God, that's the way I drive!"
Or, as a student named Bob, put it, after being cut off by a four-wheeler and having to slam on brakes to save the other driver's life, "I never realized how many truck drivers I've given heart attacks.'
SPONSORED BY REVITOL SKINCARE PRODUCTS
Labels: donovan baldwin, driving safety, essay, truck driving
Saturday, February 08, 2025
COMMENT - CHOICES AND CHANGES
The world changes.
Sometimes we call this change "progress", but, at its heart, it's just change.
You have options in the face of most change. You can put on the coat, get a fire going, or move to a warmer climate. Except in the face of ultimate cataclysm, you usually have choices.
Labels: changes, choices, comment, donovan baldwin, essay
Friday, February 07, 2025
COMMENT - REWARD THEM, AND YOURSELF
BY DONOVAN BALDWIN
Saw some pithy/witty sayings this morning while I was still waking up (still am, for that matter).
Some struck me as funny, some as dumb, some just didn't make it to the second layer of brain cells.
One, however, struck a chord. "If a street musician makes you stop walking and listen, you owe him/her a buck."
That just seemed "right" to me. But, I don't see that many buskers (street performers).
Continuing my musings, I began to see, for me, that when someone who doesn't have to tell me, and I don't have to listen, provides something of value that I realize, recognize, as such, there SHOULD be a transaction of some kind. A reward, whether of cash, goods, words...something...should be given in return.
Maybe a pat on the back, maybe a recommendation to someone else, maybe a sharing of the message. I don't know exactly what YOU "should" do because THEY brought you value...but, you owe them something for what they gave you, even if it's just the intention to be a better person, live a better life, sing a happier song, or, maybe, just smile or sing, instead of sending out messages of gloom and doom.
There are people trying to do good for you. Reward them at least by trying to do good for others. Nothing big. Just a smile, a memory, a buck.
Some struck me as funny, some as dumb, some just didn't make it to the second layer of brain cells.
One, however, struck a chord. "If a street musician makes you stop walking and listen, you owe him/her a buck."
That just seemed "right" to me. But, I don't see that many buskers (street performers).
Continuing my musings, I began to see, for me, that when someone who doesn't have to tell me, and I don't have to listen, provides something of value that I realize, recognize, as such, there SHOULD be a transaction of some kind. A reward, whether of cash, goods, words...something...should be given in return.
Maybe a pat on the back, maybe a recommendation to someone else, maybe a sharing of the message. I don't know exactly what YOU "should" do because THEY brought you value...but, you owe them something for what they gave you, even if it's just the intention to be a better person, live a better life, sing a happier song, or, maybe, just smile or sing, instead of sending out messages of gloom and doom.
There are people trying to do good for you. Reward them at least by trying to do good for others. Nothing big. Just a smile, a memory, a buck.
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Labels: comment, commentary, donovan baldwin, essay, reward, street buskers
Wednesday, January 29, 2025
ESSAY - COFFEE HERE, COFFEE THERE, COFFEE EVERYWHERE
Coffee's a big deal to me, as you might have guessed if you read what I write... non-poetry, that is.
I'm not a connoisseur of coffee. (Confession, I had to look up how to spell that.)I've gratefully quaffed (a favorite word of mine) many a cup of "what the hell is that?"
In fact, in the army, we used to get packets of "sort of" instant coffee (see picture). I would hoard them, and, on freezing cold (or burning hot) mornings, when starting the day exhausted, and no other source of coffee, I would pour the packet into my metal canteen cup, add just enough water to make a sludge, or coffee slurry, then add enough water from my canteen, swirling it to stir it, to have some cold, brown caffeinated water to drink.
Desperate stuff...
As Staff Duty NCO, at 2 AM, I have passed wearily through army mess halls, grabbing a cup of whatever was still kind of warm, willing to drink it "as is", rather than wait for sleepy cooks to brew a new pot. (A drink which tastes suspiciously like what they charge big bucks for at Starbucks.)
On other, more civilized mornings, I've dragged myself out of bed at 3 AM for duties and obligations, done my morning exercises (which I have done somewhat religiously for the last 50 years), and rewarded myself with a better brew... instant, perked, now Keurig, but, whatever was available.
Visiting non coffee drinkers (or like my sister, decaf drinkers), I have run to the nearest store to buy my own bottle of coffee, and sometimes wine (another confession).
Coffee to me IS more than just a hot drink. It's memories of overcoming obstacles. Yes, a magic potion of beans and water, turning nightmares into fairy tales.
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Labels: army, coffee, donovan baldwin, essay, humor, writing
Monday, January 27, 2025
ESSAY - WHAIKU HAIKU?
My head is full of words. Many of them doing acrobatics, grabbing onto one another, letting go, flying through the air...
Apparently, often without a net, as they tend to flash through the air of my mind and disappear.
Part of that's attributable to my ADHD brain, I'm sure. Always looking for the next exciting act and immediately relegating the previous one(s) to some mysterious hell hole from which only a few emerge from time to time, emaciated and staggering under the weight of chains of meaning, which, like those of Marley's ghost, only I can see.
We tend to see only the "finished" works of poets, but, if we could travel through time to their cottages and hovels, for poets ARE poor, aren't they, we would see scraps covered with words, phrases, sentences, and, possibly like some comedy sketches I've seen, piles of crumpled paper, each representing an "act" that didn't make the cut.
I have notebooks, scraps of paper, even, yes, cocktail napkins, and, more than once, a piece of toilet paper, with poems, ideas, words.
That's why I write so many haiku. That's how I save my words. Many of these short little snippets grow up to be real poems, the others serve to keep my disappearing thoughts alive.
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Apparently, often without a net, as they tend to flash through the air of my mind and disappear.
Part of that's attributable to my ADHD brain, I'm sure. Always looking for the next exciting act and immediately relegating the previous one(s) to some mysterious hell hole from which only a few emerge from time to time, emaciated and staggering under the weight of chains of meaning, which, like those of Marley's ghost, only I can see.
We tend to see only the "finished" works of poets, but, if we could travel through time to their cottages and hovels, for poets ARE poor, aren't they, we would see scraps covered with words, phrases, sentences, and, possibly like some comedy sketches I've seen, piles of crumpled paper, each representing an "act" that didn't make the cut.
I have notebooks, scraps of paper, even, yes, cocktail napkins, and, more than once, a piece of toilet paper, with poems, ideas, words.
That's why I write so many haiku. That's how I save my words. Many of these short little snippets grow up to be real poems, the others serve to keep my disappearing thoughts alive.
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Labels: adult ADHD, donovan baldwin, essay, poems, poetry, poets, writing haiku
Sunday, January 26, 2025
ESSAY - BREAKFAST, MR. BASCLE, AND DON QUIXOTE
For a while, in high school, I rode to school with a friend, Mike B his dad, "Frenchie" driving us in his T-Bird.
I would walk to their house on Bayshore Drive, in Warrington, and wait in what I always thought of as "the library", while they finished breakfast and got ready.
One morning I pulled down Don Quixote, by Cervantes, and started reading. Only a few pages a day, but, over several days, I finished it, and was hooked, on Don Quixote.
One morning, Frenchie, "Mr. B" to me in those days, asked if I wanted some French toast. I had never even heard of French toast, and asked him how it was made. Once he described it, I really didn't want it, but, to be polite, I said I'd try some.
Wow! I'm still a bacon and eggs, grits and toast for breakfast guy, but, once in a while, I order French toast, and remember being a teenage boy in Mr. Bascle's house, on sleepy Bayshore Drive, eating French toast and reading Don Quixote.
By the way, Frenchie, wherever you are, I've never had better French Toast than yours.
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Labels: breakfast., Don Quixote, donovan baldwin, essay, french toast
Monday, January 20, 2025
ESSAY - EPIPHANY, OR THE AHA MOMENT!
One of the more common attitudes that I encountered was, "I never realized this was so complicated..."
Or, "So THAT'S why you do that!"
Of course as a truck driving instructor, another common attitude was, "Those people in the little cars are crazy, and I used to drive like that..."
I guess the key point is "ignorance". Now, ignorance, unless intentional, is not a sin. It just means that, for some reason, you just don't "know".
Maybe you haven't had a chance to learn, maybe there was no reason to learn, or opportunity.
And yet, up until the epiphany of enlightenment of my instruction, they were certain they were "right"... even though "wrong".
Well, maybe not even "wrong", just the information perhaps did not apply to their life's needs, decisions, or purposes.
You usually don't know you're lacking something until you've had it and THEN lose it. So, if you didn't know the knowledge existed, or that it might do you some good to have it, why should you feel any lack in your life for not having it?
I guess my point is, I've stepped into many situations in my 75 years, and still do from time to time, where I suddenly realize that I have just learned something that I've lived three-quarters of a century without knowing... and suddenly something made sense, and I realized that something had been missing.
Epiphany.
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Labels: donovan baldwin, enlightenment, epiphany, essay
Friday, January 10, 2025
ESSAY - "PRESERVE THE MOST PERFECT BEAUTY", SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS
However, I have to specifically disagree with Sir Joshua on this one, "If you mean to preserve the most perfect beauty in its most perfect state, you cannot express the passions, which produce (all of them) distortion and deformity, more or less, in the most beautiful faces."
I CAN understand, in his era an artist's representation of a face in a stylized manner WAS the cat's meow. There was even a time when I might have agreed with him (and had a lot fewer years and wrinkles and scars).
Even more so, however, I have come to believe that many of the "passions", some of which ARE ugly, are also what help make us "human"... I like humans. I think I would rather see a passionate human, than a stylized one.
Sorry, Sir Joshua.
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Labels: art, beauty, donovan baldwin, essay, Joshua Reynolds
