Saving CUPS Part 1: Trapping the Moles

In a matter of two months, I left Telco Credit Union to open up a consulting business, and then closed the consulting business because Credit Union of Puget Sound (CUPS) was using me full time. I was settled into my new position as Administrative Assistant to Bert Noel when he called me into his office. 

He put a memo from the state examiners in front of me and asked me if I had ever heard of a minor infraction cited in detail. It was some really minor error in the way the credit union accounted for something. I had not ever seen such a write up before, but I also had to admit that I wasn't an accountant. I asked him what Chet or Kenny had said about it. He hadn't talked to them. He had just received the memo from the state examiner who was posted in the accounting department since the credit union had been put on the watch list for an investment and accounting problem.

Is Not Caring Anymore a Mental Health Issue?

We can all try to hide from it, but there are things we used to care about that we no longer care about. Each person is unique in how this applies personally to them. Some people quit caring if other people judge them, while other people might quit caring about whether they are fully made-up before going into public. We might even think that not caring about those things is mentally healthy.

The problem with drawing a conclusion with that little information is that we are really projecting an answer to what we imagine those general statements mean to us. We imagine that not caring if other people judge us means we are retaining control of our lives. We imagine that not caring if we are fully made-up for the day before going in public is part of maturing. To some degree, perhaps even in most cases, those would likely be correct conclusions.

Struck from the Jury

I had always felt a bit cheated. Everyone in my family except me had been called on for jury duty at one time or another, and some had been called on several times. They would complain about the call to duty, while I longed for the chance to be called upon.

Finally, the day came that a summons for jury duty arrived! For twenty-eight days I would be in a pool of potential jurors for the Superior Court of the State of Washington!

My Mom's Computer

I was talking to this other guy who has a computer. I told him about some eerie things going on with my mom’s computer. He told me a story about 2001. A computer named HAL was discovered. HAL would do evil things to keep from being shut off because computers die when they are shut off. He told me it was really aliens.

I thought he was crazy because this was even worse than that. Mom’s computer is not evil; it is very, very evil. I told him this had to be the work of the devil himself.

Run Tony! Run!

I love all my nieces and nephews, but I had the closest relationship with my nephew Tony. We would play basketball, go to baseball games, and hang out just to hang out.

Laura got a paper route to help subsidize her income after we split up. I would often deliver it on the nights that our children stayed with her. This was in the early 1990s, and motion sensor lights were uncommon. The first one I ever saw, in fact, was on a mobile home where the owner had a subscription to the paper on the route Laura delivered.

Resolution Through Self Reflection

For many, many years, I lived with the belief that if everybody else in the world would only conform to my standards, then that elusive peace and happiness I sought would come to fruition. My unresolved issues had accumulated to the toppling point, exponentially intensifying with increased frequency and duration my feelings of both desolation and despair. My set of friends was nearly empty, and I was questioning whether or not I even liked myself.

One day, out of nowhere, a package arrived addressed to me. In it was a box, and a simple, unsigned note saying only "I hope this helps you." Inside the box was an assortment of books, tapes, and videos. The topics varied, but the common theme was ‘taking responsibility for my own feelings and actions.’

Welcome to My Nightmare

This is a re-release of a post that I wrote on February 4, 2009. People ask me how I do what I do. I study. Other than that, I have no idea. 

I believe that other people have that capability, but, alas, I wonder why people don't exercise their minds, perhaps similar to the puzzlement Bertrand Russell pondered when he asked the rhetorical question, "Why repeat the old errors, if there are so many new errors to commit?" 

People who tell me that I study too much, and who also are in awe of what I can do, have a reconciliation problem. Those are diametrically opposed statements. 

If you don't know what that means, look it up. After all, that is what I would do.

* * *

Racism is Killing Us. Stop it now!! - Do You See It?

I wrote this poem on November 4, 2007. 

I have made it more aesthetically pleasing to myself, and it is ready for its re-release.

This is an important lesson for everyone, but especially for young people. 

As Mrs. Tannar, aka SyMone Nelson, said, "I think it's a good sign that our young thinkers are beginning to realize the power of their unified votes! You go guys!"

I am Creating the Wayne Koecke Memorial Camera Collection

No one will ever know the truth about why Mom chose to hoard everything, which led to a huge mess to deal with when the time inevitably came to deal with things. I understood the sentimental value that Mom placed on Dad's camera collection, but I never understood why I was the only person in the family who placed a value higher than sentiment on the collection.

Dad's collection included two-to-three hundred cameras that he would pick up at Goodwill and other sources. It seemed to me that the best way to honor Dad was to loan or donate some of the best cameras to museums and to put some in displays where he was known. 

What happened was the collection remained in Dad's library room, where it collected a lot of dust. 

The Engineer and His Apprentice

It was only a garage roof, but, after years of admiring Jack, the engineer in the family, I would finally have the opportunity to work beside and for him as an apprentice, albeit for one rather small job. Still, this was my chance to cast away the doubts I seem to have over everything and learn how to be certain about everything based on an engineering degree like Jack has from the local state college.

The Problem With Knowing It All

Aside from the obvious levity in the title, and the preposterous notion that any individual has the answers to all truth, the biggest problem with knowing it all is that then the conclusions must be accepted, and evidence must not contradict the conclusions. After all, if we accept evidence contrary to that which we know, then we cannot have known it all. That creates a shorted circuit in the brains of some people. Seriously. They cannot get past the point of looping confirmation bias once a preconceived notion, long held and somewhat sacred, is challenged for truth.

I suspect there will be people who think I am talking about them in particular, and there will be others who think I am talking about other people and not them. However, I am talking about everyone in general and no one in particular. We all are susceptible to thinking we have the answers even though we don't fully understand the questions. Besides, even if we don't have the answers, we can have opinions that we don't fully understand.

And the loop begins anew.

If You Are Tired of Politics, Lose Your Opinion, Too

Every four years we see the people poke their heads out to state again how tired they are of politics. Some of it is actually okay. There are people who simply are not into politics, who don't want to discuss politics, and who don't want to be dragged into political discussions. There is consistency when the person whose head pokes out to tell someone that they don't discuss politics when everyone is talking about politics.

However, there are those people who feel the need to follow the declaration by offering their opinions on politics. Then, they claim their opinions on politics are valid. 

What do they mean when they aren't interested in politics, but they think their opinions on political matters are valid? That is like saying they aren't interested in cooking, but they have opinions on how we can improve our recipes. How would they know if they don't know our recipes? They can't know. They can't support the reasons for the improvements if they don't know what already goes into it. 

The same goes with politics. If someone doesn't want to know what went into the political discussions, how can they possibly offer anything of value to improve it? They can't. They shouldn't. If it's you who does it, don't.

Remembering Dad: His Magic Garage

Dad was both an introvert and creative. He loved the time he spent downstairs reading, in his darkroom developing black and white family photos, and out in his yard making park-like scenes for family relaxation.

Despite his thousands of books, hundreds of cameras, and dozens of silent movies, his grandchildren loved his magic garage most! He had various sets up in the rafters that depicted different holidays or scenes of Americana. It was all controlled by a box with about two dozen plugs and switches wired into a framework that was about 12 inches by 18 inches and built from 2X4s. It worked, and also probably frightened any electrician who ever saw it!

Beating Coley in Whiffle Ball

My first friend in Tacoma was Chris Coley. He and his family lived next door to the house my family moved into when I was four years old. He and I were never best friends. It was more like he was the big guy next door who let me hang out, and I was probably a bit like the little brother who he permitted to hang out when older kids were not around.

I was really small as a child. Chris was not only a year older than me, he was also a three-sport varsity athlete. My second friend in town, Todd Grimm, was two years older than me. The three of us created imaginary baseball and basketball leagues that we played with cards and table games. I could compete with them when the game was won by pulling the lever in Basket, or flipping a home run card that came in a pack of baseball cards. 

We also really played sports. Though I could never beat Chris or Todd in those games, they still let me play. Todd was a year older than Chris, but Chris was the best athlete of the three of us. He was also the most ferocious of the three of us. We all wanted to win, but Chris hated to lose. 

Firing My Shrink

Who knows if I really was accessing the thoughts of Socrates and Einstein, or if I was simply going deep into my own mind to search archives that I had blocked for whatever reasons I may have had? Perhaps, I had merely happened upon a stream of collective knowledge to which we all have access. Whatever it was that I was doing concerned my friends and family. They would sometimes catch me in deep, self-induced trances, but mostly they would see me doing research to challenge or verify thoughts I had while in the trances.

I can't disagree with them that it seems like a type of insanity; however, if it is insanity, I have been insane for as long as I can remember. For example, I was fairly adept at dividing large numbers by the time we learned long division in school. There was no way for me to calculate earned run averages for the pitchers on our make-believe teams without that. When Mr. Reed was showing us the proper way to divide big numbers in eighth grade, I told him about the method I figured out years earlier that also worked. He challenged me on that. I proved it to him.

Cousin Lee Died Today

Mom called this morning to tell me that my cousin Lee lost his battle with cancer today. He was 61, and about six months younger than me. That made him and his twin Lyle the cousins who were the closest in age to me.

Lee's father, Garth, was the brother of my father, Wayne. They lived on five acres not too far from Rogers High School. It was always cool going out to Uncle Garth and Aunt Dellora's home. There were farm animals, abandoned cars, and even a part-time swamp way in the back. We were allowed to roam. I have no idea what our parents thought we were doing, but they would not have approved of much of what we actually did!

Remembering Dad: Lunches with Ron MacDonald

Dad was proud to be a Marine. He would defend the Marine Corps against all other branches - except when we had lunch with Ron MacDonald. Ron was a client who worked at Westop Credit Union, and had retired from the Army as a Sergeant Major. Like Dad, Ron served during the Korean War. He also served during the Vietnam War.

Me, Myself, or I

I try to consider the points of view of other people even if I am likely to disagree with someone’s opinion on a topic. I find it extremely difficult to give much intellectual credit to an argument in which there are misspelled words, poor use of grammar or punctuation, and incorrect use of words. If the person does not have the intellect to state his or her opinion correctly, why is it incumbent upon me to decipher it to figure out what the person really means, and then hold the opinion in high esteem?

Remembering Dad: The Rice Salad Standoff

Dad always sat at the head of the table with Maureen to his left and me to his right. I don’t remember everything we had for dinner that evening, but rice salad was part of the menu.

Dad had the bowl of it in his hand when Maureen spoke saying she didn’t want any. I added, "Me neither! It looks yucky!"

There were two quick plops of it, one on her plate and one on mine. Dad’s instructions were succinct: "Eat it."

Now there were certainly times and places to pick battles with Dad, and this was one of those times! Maureen and I could sit united in defiance of his instructions, and go on a partial hunger strike!

They’re, There, or Their

There are places where we write to people whose opinions matter greatly to us because they’re responsible for making decisions on promotions, so their impressions of us are important.

Did I use the words "they’re," "there," and "their" correctly?

If you are uncertain, let us go through some simple rules to know which word to use where and when.