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posticon Editorial - Stop Sending Junk Mail To Dead People

Opinions | Friday, July 12, 2019 | By Dan Veaner Print
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Editorial

There was mail for my Dad in my mailbox today.  One was a solicitation from a Cortland hearing aid business -- why is it that 90% of the hearing aid businesses are in Cortland?  (Eh, what, I didn't hear you...).  Another, addressed to Joseph H. Veaner, proclaimed, "Joseph's world gets $500" with a little tiny asterisk, that would lead Joseph to read, if he could see type that small, that he would have to open a qualifying Key Bank account in order for the $500 to come into his world.

Par for the course, right?  Junk mail. We all get it.  The only problem is that my Dad passed away a couple of years ago, and every time I get something addressed to him I feel very sad.  It's worse when the junker's (that's Key Bank in this particular case) computers try to personalize the junkee's (no, my Dad wasn't a drug addict, but he received a lot of junk mail in his time!) 'experience' with happy little phrases like 'Joseph's world', which, at the moment I am certain is called Heaven.  Not to mention that my Dad didn't have a middle name.  So I have to conclude that the 'H' was a karma thing, the initial of the place where junk mailers will go after they die.  

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posticon Thoughts - Marijuana Is A Cash Crop

Opinions | Friday, July 12, 2019 | By Casey Stevens Print
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Caseythoughts The fourteen inches (plus!) of liquid sunshine that's fallen in our part of the universe this first six months of 2019 has given way to an abundance of sun, along with accompanying heat and humidity. But, sun, glorious sun! And, with these consecutive days of blue skies and glorious brilliant sunshine comes a recognition that this column could certainly stand some sharing of good news., or at least optimism. It's a scary world out there to those of us who wallow in dystopia, but I do have some positive notes to share with you. At least I think it's positive...

Mike was a friend of mine during my first enlistment. We met at Fort Devens where we spent over six months in cryptographic specialist school. We were both then ordered to special operations training with the National Security Agency (THOSE guys!) at Fort Meade, Maryland. After three months with that super-secret agency we were then shipped to VietNam together. Although I had several fire base and field station assignments during that tour, Mike stayed in Phu Bai his whole tour. We reunited at Fort Bragg where we shared an apartment while attached to the 82nd Airborne Division until discharge in 1973. So, we had a lot of time to talk and philosophize, and I still like to look back with wonder at how brainy Mike was, and how much he seemed to be able to predict America's future in our far-ranging conversations.

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