I have long pondered the question of whether angels exist. I have certainly had the sensation that someone or something was "watching over me." It may be the only plausible explanation for surviving several incredibly stupid youthful exploits.
In my mind's eye, I picture angels as the spirits of those loving friends and family who have passed on to whatever lies beyond. There is one person I often picture, someone whose love and friendship saved my life, and whose time on this earth was much too short. I also picture the playful ghosts of my beloved pups, Rusty and Shaggy, dancing around the yard with glee.
Yet I'm unwilling to rule out that it's not all just dumb luck. How else can you explain the seemingly random nature of tragedy. I am certainly no more deserving than so many others who have passed on. The idea that it's all part of some master plan defies my personal sense of logic.
But this morning I drove to Durham to pick up my wife's wallet, which she had left at the bagel shop, found that not a cent was missing, and decided that the angels have been here all along. They are in the actions of the kind staff of the bagel shop who safeguarded her wallet, and the anonymous customer who turned it in.
We are surrounded by so much suffering and violence, so it's easy to forget the abundant kindness that exists in the world. Each of us practices it everyday without thinking. We are often reminded on Facebook and in sanctuaries that we should be kind to others. But I'm convinced it's our natural tendency. I think what's more important is to notice that others are kind, frequently and excessively, because it's all too easy to forget and focus on the evil.
Are there winged cherubim flitting amongst the clouds? I have no clue, and don't mind waiting a while to find out.
But I'm now convinced that there are angels among us, and maybe that's enough.
Friday, January 31, 2014
Saturday, January 25, 2014
Why I Always Decline the Extended Warranty
The short answer is "because Clark Howard says so" and perhaps that is enough said. But here's more food for thought.
An extended warranty is essentially an insurance policy. Now I'm a big fan of insurance, and in fact that's an area where Kate and I sometimes disagree (I want more coverage, she thinks it's a waste of money). But consider that the purpose of insurance is to reduce the risk of severe financial harm (e.g. house fire, car accident, expensive medical issue).
In most cases, the loss of a consumer good (e.g. laptop, cell phone, camera, refrigerator, breadmaker) is not going to cause "severe financial harm". It could cause inconvenience and frustration and perhaps a brief financial setback, but likely not severe harm.
It could also be argued that, if the loss of a particular product WOULD cause someone a major financial problem, perhaps they shouldn't purchase that item in the first place, or should consider a less expensive alternative. Laptops, for example, can be purchased for $300 or $3000. Same with refrigerators and TVs. I don't even need to mention Craigslist, ebay and manufacturer refurbished.
Now there's a good chance that, of the two people who read this post, at least one of you has benefited from an extended warranty. You paid $30 bucks for the warranty, and got a new phone for free after you dropped it in the...puddle on the street, let's say.
But think back over all the times you have purchased the warranty and estimate all the money you spent. Now compare that to what you would have spent on repairing or replacing any products that broke. I believe the data would show that the vast majority of consumers who buy warranties spend more on warranties that they would have spent on repairing or replacing broken products.
There is also the question of when to purchase the extended warranty. Do you accept it every time it's offered? The store will offer you one on everything from $15 toasters to $1500 TVs. For it to even begin to make sense to engage in that gamble (that's essentially what it is, and like casinos, the house almost always wins) one would need a criteria, such as declining it on purchases below a certain amount, or for products that are generally very reliable (e.g. TVs).
However, let's say you decide it's worth it simply to reduce the risk of inconvenience and frustration should you drop your smart phone in the puddle. You could decide that's something you'd like to insure, and that is of course perfectly reasonable.
But rather than purchasing an extended warranty, consider the idea of a "self-insurance" program. Every time you purchase something that you believe is worth insuring, instead of purchasing the warranty deposit the same amount of money in a savings account designated for repairing and replacing broken items. Over time, odds are very high that you will come out way ahead.
All that being said, I can contemplate a scenario where an extended warranty would make sense. One might, for example, require a particularly expensive item for health, safety or income production. Loss of said item might fall into that category of causing "severe harm". I'd also note that while I firmly subscribe to the "delayed gratification" philosophy, an occasional splurge that provides great pleasure or significantly enhances quality of life (e.g. a refrigerator with exterior ice dispenser) is eminently justifiable, and might need to be insured depending on specific family economics.
But probably not the toaster. Well, maybe this one.
An extended warranty is essentially an insurance policy. Now I'm a big fan of insurance, and in fact that's an area where Kate and I sometimes disagree (I want more coverage, she thinks it's a waste of money). But consider that the purpose of insurance is to reduce the risk of severe financial harm (e.g. house fire, car accident, expensive medical issue).
In most cases, the loss of a consumer good (e.g. laptop, cell phone, camera, refrigerator, breadmaker) is not going to cause "severe financial harm". It could cause inconvenience and frustration and perhaps a brief financial setback, but likely not severe harm.
It could also be argued that, if the loss of a particular product WOULD cause someone a major financial problem, perhaps they shouldn't purchase that item in the first place, or should consider a less expensive alternative. Laptops, for example, can be purchased for $300 or $3000. Same with refrigerators and TVs. I don't even need to mention Craigslist, ebay and manufacturer refurbished.
Now there's a good chance that, of the two people who read this post, at least one of you has benefited from an extended warranty. You paid $30 bucks for the warranty, and got a new phone for free after you dropped it in the...puddle on the street, let's say.
But think back over all the times you have purchased the warranty and estimate all the money you spent. Now compare that to what you would have spent on repairing or replacing any products that broke. I believe the data would show that the vast majority of consumers who buy warranties spend more on warranties that they would have spent on repairing or replacing broken products.
There is also the question of when to purchase the extended warranty. Do you accept it every time it's offered? The store will offer you one on everything from $15 toasters to $1500 TVs. For it to even begin to make sense to engage in that gamble (that's essentially what it is, and like casinos, the house almost always wins) one would need a criteria, such as declining it on purchases below a certain amount, or for products that are generally very reliable (e.g. TVs).
However, let's say you decide it's worth it simply to reduce the risk of inconvenience and frustration should you drop your smart phone in the puddle. You could decide that's something you'd like to insure, and that is of course perfectly reasonable.
But rather than purchasing an extended warranty, consider the idea of a "self-insurance" program. Every time you purchase something that you believe is worth insuring, instead of purchasing the warranty deposit the same amount of money in a savings account designated for repairing and replacing broken items. Over time, odds are very high that you will come out way ahead.
All that being said, I can contemplate a scenario where an extended warranty would make sense. One might, for example, require a particularly expensive item for health, safety or income production. Loss of said item might fall into that category of causing "severe harm". I'd also note that while I firmly subscribe to the "delayed gratification" philosophy, an occasional splurge that provides great pleasure or significantly enhances quality of life (e.g. a refrigerator with exterior ice dispenser) is eminently justifiable, and might need to be insured depending on specific family economics.
But probably not the toaster. Well, maybe this one.
Thursday, January 9, 2014
Treading lightly, or rationalizing the vast sums I spend on gadgets and gas
I count myself among those who believe that our current rate of consumption is a path to widespread damage to the ecosystem. Thus I wrestle with the question of how to tread lightly on the earth. Should I recycle more? Stop patronizing certain companies? Buy a hybrid? For all my wrestling, it seems most of my choices fall short.
Case in point, our house is smallish by first-world middle-class standards. It is energy efficient, with passive solar features. Yet we have a bedroom we hardly use, and storage space for belongings we don't need. It's no "McMansion", but it's a bit more than 182 square feet.
I hardly ever buy an electronic device that isn't either used or refurbished. But I have a LOT of electronic devices.
Our vehicles are used and high mileage. Yet they are embarrassingly inefficient. My daily ride is a full-sized F-150, with a powerful, rumbling V-8. [confession: I love it!]
We own a small chunk of forest, complete with flowing stream. We do our best to care for it. Doing so, of course, requires equipment; two chainsaws, three lawnmowers and a string trimmer. Did I mention the small diesel-powered tractor?
If you believe greenhouse gases are causing scary and severe changes to the earth's climate (and I do), then you would certainly have cause to point a finger in our direction.
I bemoan the fact that so many of the goods I purchase (tires, toilet paper, hiking boots, the aforementioned electronics) are manufactured in far off lands by workers who may be treated unfairly and paid poorly, in factories that surely spew pollutants into the air and water. And yet I continue to buy tires and and toilet paper and hiking boots. And electronics, definitely more electronics.
I find the endless aisles of cereal and scented candles and bath towels and kitchen gadgets to be both nauseating and alluring. I have a suspicion we could turn off all the factories and have still have an ample supply of toothpaste and legal pads and patio furniture for the next decade or so, especially if we all took better care of what we have.
I've done a fair amount of paring down material possessions. And yet a certain major on-line retailer makes regular appearances on my credit card statement and once a day I peruse the Deal News website. OK, maybe twice a day. Three times max. I could certainly manage to go a bit further on the "paring down."
I do at least maintain delusions of self-sufficiency, harvesting firewood and venison from our forest.
Expense is a major barrier to living a "sustainable" lifestyle. Right now there is a wire connected to my house that runs straight to the mountain-removing coal mining of West Virginia. While I would love to sever that line, solar panels ain't cheap. Falling short, once again.
Another justification (rationalization?) is that, even if I lived in a Tiny House and drove a hybrid and ate locally grown lentils and rice, the overall impact would be the same as beating an oil tanker with a hammer. "Let's vote with our dollars and stop shopping at 'Save-A-Wad'" is a nice idea, but the companies, I fear, have gotten too big to notice.
In the end, though, I do believe that actions are important. Yet so are conversations. And creating models. And education. And raising the next generation. And the work we do with the time and resources we have. And living a life that is comfortable and satisfying, in pleasant surroundings, with good food and enjoyable pastimes, so we have time and space to rest and recharge and get back to doing good work.
And ultimately, the change we need to solve the sustainability problem is exponentially more profound than the choice between a Prius and a pickup. [Did you hear the new F-150 will be all aluminum?!! Sweet!]
And so, I will continue to buy my electronics refurbished, DVDs at the pawn shop, and cars on craigslist. My next truck will be another gas guzzler, but I will strive to make more visits to the farmers market, and fewer to the super store. And I'll continue to believe that someday, perhaps not in my lifetime, we'll have a world where waters flow clean, forests grow tall and deep, and poverty and hunger and violence are history. Achieving that goal is an unfathomably monumental task. But I remain hopeful that the small steps we take today will move us just a bit closer.
 |
| Two foot overhangs shade windows in summer, let light in during winter |
I hardly ever buy an electronic device that isn't either used or refurbished. But I have a LOT of electronic devices.
Our vehicles are used and high mileage. Yet they are embarrassingly inefficient. My daily ride is a full-sized F-150, with a powerful, rumbling V-8. [confession: I love it!]
We own a small chunk of forest, complete with flowing stream. We do our best to care for it. Doing so, of course, requires equipment; two chainsaws, three lawnmowers and a string trimmer. Did I mention the small diesel-powered tractor?
If you believe greenhouse gases are causing scary and severe changes to the earth's climate (and I do), then you would certainly have cause to point a finger in our direction.
I bemoan the fact that so many of the goods I purchase (tires, toilet paper, hiking boots, the aforementioned electronics) are manufactured in far off lands by workers who may be treated unfairly and paid poorly, in factories that surely spew pollutants into the air and water. And yet I continue to buy tires and and toilet paper and hiking boots. And electronics, definitely more electronics.
I find the endless aisles of cereal and scented candles and bath towels and kitchen gadgets to be both nauseating and alluring. I have a suspicion we could turn off all the factories and have still have an ample supply of toothpaste and legal pads and patio furniture for the next decade or so, especially if we all took better care of what we have.
I've done a fair amount of paring down material possessions. And yet a certain major on-line retailer makes regular appearances on my credit card statement and once a day I peruse the Deal News website. OK, maybe twice a day. Three times max. I could certainly manage to go a bit further on the "paring down."
I do at least maintain delusions of self-sufficiency, harvesting firewood and venison from our forest.Expense is a major barrier to living a "sustainable" lifestyle. Right now there is a wire connected to my house that runs straight to the mountain-removing coal mining of West Virginia. While I would love to sever that line, solar panels ain't cheap. Falling short, once again.
Another justification (rationalization?) is that, even if I lived in a Tiny House and drove a hybrid and ate locally grown lentils and rice, the overall impact would be the same as beating an oil tanker with a hammer. "Let's vote with our dollars and stop shopping at 'Save-A-Wad'" is a nice idea, but the companies, I fear, have gotten too big to notice.
In the end, though, I do believe that actions are important. Yet so are conversations. And creating models. And education. And raising the next generation. And the work we do with the time and resources we have. And living a life that is comfortable and satisfying, in pleasant surroundings, with good food and enjoyable pastimes, so we have time and space to rest and recharge and get back to doing good work.
And ultimately, the change we need to solve the sustainability problem is exponentially more profound than the choice between a Prius and a pickup. [Did you hear the new F-150 will be all aluminum?!! Sweet!]
And so, I will continue to buy my electronics refurbished, DVDs at the pawn shop, and cars on craigslist. My next truck will be another gas guzzler, but I will strive to make more visits to the farmers market, and fewer to the super store. And I'll continue to believe that someday, perhaps not in my lifetime, we'll have a world where waters flow clean, forests grow tall and deep, and poverty and hunger and violence are history. Achieving that goal is an unfathomably monumental task. But I remain hopeful that the small steps we take today will move us just a bit closer.
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
Second Season
This is my second season deer hunting and here's the big lesson: hunting is complicated.
By any conventional measure (antler size, pounds of meat, number of deer), my season could barely scrape the bottom rung of mediocre. I harvested a single deer, a small button buck (picture below).
I've also spent many more hours sitting in the woods than I had planned. My goal was to get one decent-sized deer for the freezer. Had it happened in the first 15 minutes of opening day, I would have happily moved on to other tasks, like cutting firewood or sitting in a boat waiting for a fish to bite. I foolishly thought, with one season under my belt, this one would be easier. But on many days the overriding feeling was frustration.
I've seen dozens of deer. But they have always seen me first, or come from behind, or been way out of range. I have come to terms with the randomness of deer movement. I pick a spot in the woods to sit, and imagine them approaching from a certain direction. Without fail, they approach from a another. On one occasion, a deer spotted me just across the property line and froze, staring at me for a good five minutes. On another, as a large herd passed behind me, one of the deer spied me and stood stomping the ground for several minutes, easily within range if I had just been facing the other way. There were several days I saw nothing. Frustrating.
Granted, I've placed some self-imposed limits on my opportunities. My shooting stick is a 20 gauge shotgun, single shot. I have two home-made stands, the tallest reaching a mere 8 feet off the ground. My landowner permit allows me only to hunt my own farm. I've yet to buy a bag of corn.
By any conventional measure (antler size, pounds of meat, number of deer), my season could barely scrape the bottom rung of mediocre. I harvested a single deer, a small button buck (picture below).
I've seen dozens of deer. But they have always seen me first, or come from behind, or been way out of range. I have come to terms with the randomness of deer movement. I pick a spot in the woods to sit, and imagine them approaching from a certain direction. Without fail, they approach from a another. On one occasion, a deer spotted me just across the property line and froze, staring at me for a good five minutes. On another, as a large herd passed behind me, one of the deer spied me and stood stomping the ground for several minutes, easily within range if I had just been facing the other way. There were several days I saw nothing. Frustrating.
Granted, I've placed some self-imposed limits on my opportunities. My shooting stick is a 20 gauge shotgun, single shot. I have two home-made stands, the tallest reaching a mere 8 feet off the ground. My landowner permit allows me only to hunt my own farm. I've yet to buy a bag of corn.
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