RADIO SHACK

A piece of America is being lost. In case you've not heard, Radio Shack is closing down many of its stores. Will all of them close? That remains to be seen.

Always considered the doormat of electronics among high-end stereo freaks for its schlocky stereo equipment, Radio Shack has survived these many years by being the sole provider of electric "stuff". (I call it that because I don't know the names of any of the little do-dads that they sell.)

But, I (and you) don't have to know these names because the folks at Radio Shack DO know them.

When you walk into a Radio Shack you are immediately sized up by the workers there. For instance, when I walked in they likely nicknamed me "the guy who doesn't know shit about electronics".

When I'd approach a Radio Shack employee I would confirm to them their suspicions by saying "hi, I'm Mark and I don't know shit about electronics". The one I'm speaking to would flash an all-knowing grin to his partner, communicating an unspoken code known only to electronics geeks which says "yup, here's another one".

The next challenge is for the electronics moron (me) to describe what it is I need. This is always frustrating for both parties and likely takes up most of the time of a Radio Shack employee. I can almost hear the conversation when a Radio Shack employee comes home to his wife at the end of the day. "Hi, dear. What did you do today?" "I listened to idiots who knew nothing about electronics describing what they wanted in incoherent sentences."

Ultimately, through something resembling osmosis, the needs of electronics numb skulls are figured out by the always patient Radio Shack employees.

Thus it was with a high degree of sadness that I found out that our local Radio Shack is closing. I went there because I needed a small electronic device that emits a high-pitched warning. Why Radio Shack? Because folks on the internet have unanimously said that "Radio Shack has them".

The sign on the door said it all. I don't remember what the specific words were because the tears streaming down my face blinded me to most of the letters.

"No more electrical do-dads" was the ultimate meaning of the sign on the door.

An era has passed. There will never be another Radio Shack.

I miss them.

Terribly.

Readers, enjoy your day.

SMUGGLING

Please ignore for a minute the title of this entry. I'll get to it in due time.

Canadians have a wonderful snack food that they hold near and dear to their hearts. In sharp contrast to Canadians' normally likeable nature, they won't share their favorite snack with their neighbors to the south. Between this and our not being able to delight in a purely Canadian Tim Horton's donut in the U.S., I'm a bit perturbed with Canada. The object of my discontent is Canadian "Cheezies", a junk food so junky that it should be banned in civilized countries. For those not in the know, Cheezies are similar to Cheetos but with more fat, salt and cheese...and other "stuff".

In short, they're an irresistible delicacy.

O.K, let's get to the subject at hand - SMUGGLING. As we left Canada a few days ago, we entered the black hole known as U.S. Customs and Immigration. The customs agent asked us the usual questions, including "are you bringing any food items into the U.S.?" Feeling somewhat like we were in confession we declared that we were crossing into the U.S. with a considerable load of Cheezies. The look on the agent's face said it all: humor, disgust, revulsion, disbelief, among others. The agent, feeling that we were Cheezies virgins, lectured us on the evils of this Canadian delicacy, stamped our passports and sent us on our way.

It occurred to us that the agent brushed us off rather rapidly, not wishing to further delve into other Canadian products that we may be carrying which might offend his sense of haute cuisine.

Which leads (mercifully) to the point of today's sermon:

If you wish to smuggle illegal items from Canada to the U.S., declare a large quantity of Cheezies.

They're the ultimate diversion.

Readers, enjoy your day.

ACCEPTANCE

Having returned from a fantastic weekend in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, I cannot help but think that our good neighbors to the north have the right formula. While we in the U.S. seem to negatively focus on the differences among us Americans, Canadians accept and embrace those differences.

Evidence of this was abundant this past weekend at the Heritage Festival in Edmonton. This event featured food, music and dance from no less than 70 different ethnicities that comprise the Edmonton population.

The food - where does one start? In the course of the day we ate jerked chicken (Jamaica), egg rolls (Singapore), lemon bitters (Australia), lefse hot dogs (Scandinavia), elephant ears (Romania), watermelon (Iran), potato on a stick (Lebanon), pretzels (Germany), and on and on.

Equally wonderful were the music, native dances and colorful clothing worn by the many different Edmonton citizens.

It was a wonderful weekend to observe what can and should be done to create inclusiveness within a highly diverse population. What a festival!

In many ways this wonderful Heritage Days festival defines what it is to be Canadian.

Let's not let ourselves be defined by Charlottesville.

Readers, enjoy your day.