RRN Online Volume 14

September 23 '96

Volume 14

Bit ‘bout Bloopers

Did you watch TV Bloopers on Monday, September 16? I saw only a part of the show. To me, the funniest part was the news commentator that announced with the grace and dignity of a Walter Kronkite that "(name not recalled)..died at his home today . He was 70 degrees." I am still laughing, as I type this. The same news man was shown reading a correction, and he still used the phrase, "He was 70 degrees." I am wondering what he mistook for "degrees", or if he just tacked it on. Usually, the news folks just say something like "He was 70." Lately, I have caught myself more times than I care to admit, mis-reading a headline. I often read what I expected to see, not what I actually did see. It is a paradigm thing, I’m sure.

The cause of death was not stated, but by deductive reasoning I would say hypothermia was the main factor. After all, normal body temperature is 98.6 degrees. I can only guess, but perhaps the news man once did the weather reports. After giving some thought to the matter of the newscaster as a former weather man, then he might have stated:

John Smith died at his home today with 70 percent relative humidity
John Smith died at his home today. He was 70 degrees, normal for this day is 85.
John Smith died at his home today with a 70 percent chance of afternoon showers.

What might a sportscaster for football or golf say?

John Smith died at his home today. He was 70 yards deep.
John Smith died at his home today. 70 yards rushing, 100 passing
John Smith died at his home today. He was 70 of 90 in the air.
John Smith died at his home today. He completed 70%.
John Smith died at his home today. He was 70 feet from the green.
John Smith died at his home today. He was 70, 2 under par.

I hope I am able to see the re-runs for the blooper show. I want to tape the newsman segment.

Just A Trace Of Heaven

One of the best things about driving is occasionally, you find a place where you can actually enjoy being on the road. I don’t mean that you are free to drive at unlimited speeds or power through sharp banked curves. No, the special thing about my favorite place to drive is the low speed limit and the ability to truly appreciate the surroundings. There are no traffic lights to halt your journey. There are no tractor-trailer trucks belching unburned diesel fuel on your windshield, no logging trucks with menacing timbers wagging precariously between unshielded, mud-slinging, rock spewing tires. There are no commercial vehicles allowed on this road. The roadway is only a two-lane paved highway, but it boasts one of the best cared for roadsides in the state of Mississippi. I tell all who will listen that the grass along the side of this highway is not just mowed, it is groomed. The roadway is as close to being litter free as can be expected, in a region inhabited by too many who consider the Earth their own ashtray or trash can. Its not Heaven, but its close. In fact, if Heaven ain’t a lot like the Natchez Trace Parkway, then I don’t want to go. Truthfully, if it is not, I will still prefer Heaven to the alternative.

Show me the person who does not appreciate the solitude, the tranquil beauty and the relaxed drive, free from the high speed hustle and bustle of our regular roadways, and I will show you the person who has yet to attain even a modest level of maturity, or else is an environmental barbarian, incapable of appreciating the harmony of man with nature. It was easy for me to appreciate the beauty of the Trace on the sunlight, pre-Autumn day that already sported the look and feel of early Fall.

The road marker at Mathiston informed me the distance to Tupelo was 59 miles. It is a distance easily traversed in an hour or thereabout. I felt better knowing that I had about an hour and 15 minutes to get to my periodontal appointment, and my emotional system began to free itself from self imposed constraints of appointment times.

It was a little less than 10 years ago that freezing rain moved through the area and uprooted many of the pines along the section of Trace I was traveling. I remember counting 247 trees along the Trace between Houston and my turn-off to take me to Weir. Since most of these 247 trees had fallen across the road, I was actually counting stumps and tree sections that remained after the paved roadway had been cleared.

Have you ever wondered why so many trees, when subjected to the great weight of snow or ice, fall across a roadway. Why don’t they fall away from the road? It would be a big help to the utility workers and road crews if trees could fall the other way. The trouble is, they can’t fall away from the road, they have to fall across the road or if they are too short they just fall toward the road. Why?

Well, I thought you would never ask. Have you ever looked closely at the limbs of trees along the side of a road, or those in the woods at the edge of a clearing. Perhaps you observed that the tree has more limbs or foliage along the side that faces the open road or clearing. In fact if you cut all of the trees down except the ones closest to the road or the clearing, you would see that the backside of the trees have very few limbs. Their ability to grow limbs along their backsides has been thwarted by those trees behind them. The deeper you move into the woods the more you notice that the dominant foliage is near the tops of all of the trees. Each tree competes with others for maximum exposure to light. In a forest, the best chance for light is directly overhead, so that is where the foliage will be.

Trees afforded the opportunity to grow alongside a road or at a clearing’s edge have the capability and distinct advantage of producing foliage on their "clear" side as well as overhead. This must be where the expression "clear advantage" is derived. However, the advantage becomes a liability when ice appears on the limbs. The trees try to stand tall, but now they begin to lean in the direction where the extra weight exists. It would be like asking you to stand upright and straight, with your back to a wall while holding a 100 pound sack of potatoes in your arms. No matter how hard you try to remain upright, you will topple forward (assuming you do not drop the sack). Scientists explain this by saying your center of gravity changed. That’s exactly what happened to the ice laden trees along the road, their center of gravity changed. They begin to lean, and either became uprooted or else great portions of their upper mass broke away.

My time with the dental hygienist at the periodontist’s office was hardly as pleasant as my drive along the Trace, but I found the new personnel behind the front desk to be as friendly and helpful as the former ones, and of course I saw several familiar faces. My journey back to Greenville was purposefully routed through Pontotoc, in order that I might check on the house as well as pick up any important mail. Since I drove right past my "talkative" sister’s house, I was tempted to stop for a visit, but I knew if I did I would be there far too long before I could get underway again, especially if she had just finished a batch of snickerdoodles. I trust the hint is subtle enough, Sarah.

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