Traveling to the Past

By Madeleine Kando

If you are one of our faithful readers who might be wondering why I haven't posted for a while, rest assured: I haven’t expired or gotten sick, which would be a valid reason for not posting (and not such a far-fetched possibility at my age).

Granted, my regularity of posting has dwindled over the previous year: pressure of working seven days a week and so on. (That’s a lie, I am happily retired). It couldn’t be blogger’s block since writing is something I enjoy, (to the chagrin of some of you, who are more sensitive to the mediocrity of my writing).

The truth is, my silence is due to a side step into my past. A friend of mine (whose name will rename undisclosed) let me borrow his time machine and I landed in Hungary at the turn of the 20th century. This was not a random choice, mind you. I wanted to find out what the hell by grandparents were up to.

While I was away, I discovered that living in the present is not the only option we have. Despite the horrors of that time - a lot of wars and dead bodies floating in the Danube - taking a break from the present can be invigorating. Living in the past is a lot safer, since you don’t have to make choices of who to vote for, what to spend your money on or which college to send your kids to. It has already been decided for you. And it is much less stressful since you know what the outcome will be, good or bad.

Of course there is the ever-present looming shadow of regret, but regret is not the past. It is the present. Come to think of it, the present is an awfully stressful, high blood pressure raising demon. Think about it. Don’t we all try to find a break from the present? Even the chipmunks with their cheeks full of seeds and the birds fighting for a perch on my birdfeeders take a break from the ever present. It’s called sleeping.

So, if you are suffering from Trumpitis, Harrisitis, Tendonitis or Presentitis, take my advice. Go visit the past. Not only will it give you a well-deserved vacation, but you might actually come back with a suitcase full of stuff that you thought you had lost forever. leave comment here

The King’s New Hair

by Madeleine Kando

Many years ago there was a King of a mighty country who was so enamored of his hair, that his big palace was chock full of mirrors. He loved walking down the long, golden-studded hallways, looking left and right to admire his reflection. Sometimes he ended up with cramps in his neck, but a good night’s sleep in his huge canopy bed with the mirror on the ceiling took care of that.

This King did not care about reviewing his army or attending important meetings. All his servants, cooks, and numerous gardeners were told to carry a mirror around and whenever they crossed the King’s path, they kneeled and held up the mirror, so his highness could admire his ever-so-beloved hair.

Unfortunately, since hair is no great friend of aging, our beloved ruler found to his horror that his hair was starting to grow dangerously thin.

He spent most of his time experimenting on which side of his head his increasingly sparse hair should be combed. His Advisor in Chief had once commented on how regal he looked when his sparse hair was combed to the left, so from that moment on, everyone in his royal presence had to wear their hair to the left. 

Many strangers came to curry favors of the great King. Russian Kings, Chinese Ambassadors, and North Korean Diplomats were seen entering the Palace, carrying large mirrors.

One day, among these many guests, came a barber from a faraway land. He let it be known that he could create the most magnificent hairdos. Not only were his scissors and combs uncommonly fine, but also once he had created a hairstyle, he said, the masterpiece would be invisible to anyone who was unusually stupid or not fit for office.

‘Wouldn’t that be incredible?’ the King thought, ‘This barber can make my hair abundant, flowing gorgeously in the wind, just like my mother liked it. I will be the envy of all and I will immediately know who is unfit for their job, in other words, who did not agree with me!’

The next morning, the barber (his name was Figaro), was summoned to the royal bedchamber and got ready to perform his incredible craft. ‘Your majesty’ he said humbly, ‘I must warn you. I have to shave your head before I can create a new beautiful hairstyle. This is the secret ingredient of my oh-so-incredible craft.’

America and the Olympics. How the U.S. Does it

Tom Kando 

Once again we went through an Olympics dominated by the US. 

I am not writing this piece to engage in chauvinism. Nor do I need to rehash the various obvious explanations for America’s advantage, such as population size and wealth. In a previous post (see Olympics), I showed that in proportion to population, small countries do much better than large ones: In 2016, Grenada, Jamaica, New Zealand, Denmark and Slovenia were all in the top ten medal winners. The US ranked #39 in the world, and China ranked #77. 

Bu now, I want to suggest a factor which has not been focused upon very much, namely the uniquely American DUAL system of athletic achievement: 

In the US, athletic achievement is cultivated and rewarded (1) at the amateur level in schools, and (2) at the professional level. 

To my knowledge, no other country has such a dual reward system. Of course, many countries have vibrant amateur sports, and in many countries the government supports athletics. The most extreme form of this was the Soviet model. Throughout much of the twentieth century, the USSR and East Germany used to garner the highest number of medals because sports were supported so lavishly by their government. Today, China probably provides generous government support for sports, as do probably many other countries as well. 

Clearly, the more money is spent on sports and on athletic training by a given country - from whatever source - the more medals that country will garner.