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Our landscapes probably say a lot about us.  It probably isn’t fair to judge a book by its cover or homeowners by their yards…but, we do.

A prime example of judging a person by his landscape is the old analogy about which home contains a gun.  A person is standing on the curb, deciding which home to rob.  One home has a well kept lawn, small windmill turning in the garden, and little flowers in pots on the porch.  Decorating the lawn are two little wooden cutouts that resemble people bent over in the yard.

The second home, right next door, has tall grass that needs mowed.  A chain hangs from a tree in the front yard holding an oily engine.  The ground underneath is stained black.  A weathered doghouse stands off to one side with a worn dish beside it.  Through the dirty front windows you see a Confederate flag being used as a drape.

Which house has the gun?

We also judge people by appearance or their own “personal landscape.”  I remember interviewing someone for a job here at the radio station.  The job wasn’t for president of the company or anything, but it was still a first step into broadcasting.  He was in flip-flops and cutoff jeans.  He was in his 30’s and needed a shave.  Radio is an entertainment industry so I thought, “maybe this guy is really creative and thinks outside the box.”  Nope.  He wasn’t creative…he was lazy.

The person I hired at the time has been with us for years and brought enthusiasm and dependability to the job.  He did the most with what he had to work with.  You can train anyone, I believe, if they have the desire to work.

Landscapes are funny things.  We are hiring some landscaping folks to put in trees and make our home look a bit more “kept.”  People also hire consultants to advise them on their personal landscape.  The challenge, I believe, is not being something you’re not.  If we spent $50,000 and put in a waterfall, imported boulders, and a giant train…it would be interesting, but not us.  A well kept lawn, not Disneyland, is more our style.  Same thing in “personal landscape.”  I have three suits, but usually wear “dress casual” with a nice shirt, slacks, and dress shoes.  I’d rather have an Italian Pizza than an Italian suit.

I think the trick in your ‘landscape’ is to be honest with yourself and be sincere.  Sincerity.  Once you can fake THAT, you’ve got it made.

WHBU is having an auction to benefit the “Make a Wish Foundation.”  It’s on Friday, August 22nd from 6-10am.  Local businesses have donated items and the proceeds will go directly to Make a Wish.

Items include:

Sybaris Pool Suite - $400+ Gift Certificate

Beef and Boards - $110 Gift Certificates

Coopers Sports Bowl - Marvel Comics Bowling Ball

Hardins Bike Shop - 12″ Lil Daisy Heavy Duty Bike

Metal Works Jewelers - Gold Post Errings

Wine-N-Vine - Delux Wine and Beer Making Kit

Buck Creek in Bloom - Silk Floral Arrangement

Merle Norman - Make-up, Skin Care, Manicure

ClipZone Salon and Day Spa - Facial and Swedish Massage

Mr Mouse - $25 Gift Certificates

Canoe Country - $32 Gift Certificates

Strongs Alexandria Market - $10 Gift Certificates

Don’s Music Hall - $20 Gift Certificates

Scotty’s Brewhouse - $25 Gift Cerfiticates

Crestview Golf Course - $20 Gift Certificates

Remember, the proceeds go to “Make a Wish.”

My wife, Angie, and I just returned from vacation.  It’s always fun to get away…even from a job you enjoy.  The first few days are spent unwinding.  The last few days are spent anticipating the return to work  The REAL vacation is in the middle.

Vacations have changed a LOT since ancient times.  It’s hard to imagine the Caesar family loading up the chariot with a tent, firewood, water, and playing cards.  The kids, asking in Latin, “are we there yet?”  Just hard to picture.  Did they even TAKE vacations, then?  I have a Ball State history degree, but I must have skipped that day.

It seems that we really take too much on vacation.  At one point I had the laptop in the daunting “vacation pile” for the trip.  I guess I thought they would have WiFi access in the hills of West Virginia.  Then I realized that it wouldn’t really BE a vacation if I was doing station paperwork at the campsite.  So…I left it.

I think the laptop was the ONLY thing we left behind.  If Angie and I are blessed with children they will be required to ride on the roof.  Don’t panic.  They will be strapped into car seats.  Hey, I’ll be a good dad.  Fresh air is good for them.

Camping is probably one of my favorite summer activities.  I’m blessed because my wife also enjoys the outdoors.  The challenge, though, is preparing for the unknown.  The biggest unknown , probably, is the campsite.

If you’re going to stay at the Holiday Inn, you have a pretty good idea of what to expect.  Same can be said for the Hilton, Marriott, or Motel 6.  You’ll have a room, bed, color TV, annoying heat/AC unit.  The motel rooms will be, mostly, identical.  Hilton rooms will probably all be bigger…but, uniform.  Camping is a complete crap shoot.

Within any given campground there are huge sites, small sites, shaded sites, full sun sites, gravel sites, dirt sites, and grassy sites.  There are sites on hills, near the bathrooms, far from the bathrooms, and those with and without electricity.  You have to prepare for ALL these sites.  Suppose the Holiday Inn motel room would be without towels, but have a t-v?  Maybe there is a bed, but no sheets.  You have pillow cases, but no pillows.  AND you wouldn’t know until you arrived which combination you either had or lacked.

We have packed, for 2 years, a little covered awning thing in case we’re ever at a “full sun” site.  Those sites lack ANY trees and are, basically, like camping in a parking lot with grass.  We’ve never needed the awning.  It’s still packed in the original box.  BUT, the day I leave it home….we’ll get a site that makes the desert seem cool and comfortable.

This vacation I also fell into the trap of a modern, cocky, human.  “I’m superior to nature.”  Sure.  My battle was with a raccoon.  I’ll tell the story quickly, because his size seems to grow with each telling…but, he was huge.  About 2am heard a crunching sound.  Yup, he was in the new “camp kitchen” received as a gift this spring.  I put the food into the truck…and went back to bed.  Secure in the knowledge that he couldn’t possibly open a latched cooler.  5am…and he was in the cooler eating our hamburger.  I like nature close, just not eating MY food.

It was good to leave…and good to get back.  The pictures are downloaded onto the computer and I’m through all the e-mails.  There is one question I have, though.  You drive hundreds of miles sitting behind the wheel.  WHY do we all rush into the house and sit down?  I tried standing, but it just didn’t seem the same…  Maybe after the NEXT vacation.

I’ve just returned from vacation and have been reading the stories about Mike Symmes.  He’s the Chesterfield Accountant accused of stealing $300,000+ from clients over the years.  After his arrest on Wednesday, he killed himself on Thursday.  It’s a sad and tragic story.

We’re all faced with “the Joneses.”  I once worked for someone who, by my measure, was very wealthy.  He made a fortune as a lawyer, held well paying seats on boards, and took lavish vacations.  He considered himself “poor,” however, because his friend was Jim Irsay.  Yes, the guy who owns the Indianapolis Colts.  Jim’s home was amazing, with a compound housing a huge building for entertaining 500+ of his closest friends.  I felt poor because my boss had so much, he felt poor because Irsay had so much.  Maybe Irsay felt rich, but I doubt it. 

Mike Symmes, by all measure, was a nice guy.  He went to Ball State, owned a business, raised a family.  He fell into a trap waiting for any one of us.  Many people misquote and say “money is the root of all evil.”  The actual quote is “the LOVE of money is the root of all evil.”  It’s that love that can warp even good people into doing bad things.

There is a life lesson here.  America has some of the greatest “toys” on the planet.  With cool phones, great cars, and amazing computers.  We have access to interesting vacation spots, fun experiences, and unique joys.  But, they all come at a cost.  My folks have a little sign in their home.  It says, “Happiness isn’t having everything you want…but, being happy with everything you have.”

The death of Mike Symmes is sad for so many reasons.  The wife, children, and grandchildren he leaves behind.  The stain of suicide.  The financial victims.  Most tragic, though, is this death and case didn’t have to happen.  The American dream image he tried to create became a nightmare.

This blog is being written after a journey in an old time machine.  Unlike the H.G. Wells machine of the 19th century, this one only allows a person to go back in time.  But, this one is real.

With the recent move we’ve been deciding what goes and what stays.  In a cosmic trick of fate, we had just 7 days to vacate our old home and move into the new.  The temptation was to use a bulldozer and just shove everything into the moving truck to be sorted later.

The one item I wanted to keep and bring with me was the time machine.  It has sat moldering in the garage for 8 years.  Before that it had been stored at my parents house.  There just didn’t didn’t seem to be a place for it, but I was determined to bring it into the new home. 

With the exception of an outer cleaning, the machine was packed as it was onto the trailer and hauled to the new house.  Another cleaning and a few cuss words and it was carried into the home to be placed in the den, by a window.

Today, being Sunday, I decided to take a trip back to the 1970’s.  Elvis was alive, kinda…Happy Days was on TV, and my folks bought me the machine.  They were auction hounds in those days so I don’t remember who owned the machine first.  My guess is that some craftsman built it in the 1930’s. 

I sat at the machine today and began to explore the past.  My journey included things I’d forgotten from those days.  Images of my first Pinewood Derby race in Cub Scouts, the Homecoming Dance, and a Ball State acceptance letter. 

There were things I’d forgotten like the nameplate from a Gremlin or a pocket knife given to me when my Uncle Harold died.  I’d ruined the blade using the sharpener behind a can opener and tucked it away. 

The journey through time was surprising.  It ended in the 1980’s when I was at an Associated Press convention in Indianapolis.  For some reason I’d saved my name badge and placed it inside the time machine.  22 Years later on a sunny Sunday afternoon I found it again.

I’m writing today’s blog on the desk that contained a lot of hopes for a kid.  Some of them didn’t come true, but many of them did.  When this desk sat in the corner of my old bedroom I’d have never imagined working in radio, counting as friends people I admired then, and being married to a wonderful woman. 

I can’t take long trips in the machine again.  Some of the things are now in the trash outside.  However, I saved enough things to take a little journey every once in a while.  Starting today, I’ll put a few things into the desk…so a 60+ year old Leland can take a trip or two back to 2008. 

On August 22nd, from 6-10am WHBU will be having an auction to benefit the “Make A Wish” Foundation.  It’s an outstanding organization and we really hope you contribute.  The auction will be pretty simple.  That morning just call the special auction number we give you, bid on the item we have up for bid, and it will go to the highest bidder.  ALL the proceeds from the sale of items will go to “Make A Wish.”

This will be a fun event I encourage you to call that morning.  If you have new items you would like to donate for the auction, just let me know.  Call 378-2080 and ask for Leland.  We can always use more items and will be happy to mention your name or donating organization during the auction.

I normally write the blog about things going on in my life or other things that are interesting.  I think this is going to be a fun event and would love for you to participate.

All the best,

Leland

I’ve not met a single person who enjoys automated phone systems, but they are becoming part of our culture. If I owned “Leland Franklin Enterprises” my first priority would be to install a REAL person to answer the phones and leave REAL messages for people. No voice mail or automated phone systems.

We recently moved into the ‘burbs. There are trees in our neighborhood and people spend the evenings walking dogs, talking to friends, and working in the yard. There are, however, a few things about country life the real estate agent never mentioned. One of them is internet access.

Apparently, we are “right on the cusp” of service. There is service 1000 feet from our home, but not quite close enough for the magic of internet to actually reach our door.

The previous paragraph of information was typed in just 20 seconds, but took days on hold to discover. It’s not that the information was complicated, but there was no person to talk to…just menu choices on the phone. The menu choice for “1000 feet from the home” is way down the list.

Dialing #1 for english, then #3 for new service, then another series of number for Internet, then service areas…and so on. I’d retire a rich man selling the ’secret’ number which actually connects folks with a real person.

Don’t get me wrong, the folks at AT&T were nice, after a vast array of selections and waiting on hold for 45-minutes. But, I would pay a little more on a phone bill just to have a real person answer the call. Is it THAT expensive to have real people?

A friend once owned a car with a completely digital dash. This was 20 years ago and it was really cool. They just never caught on. People just like the look of the “analog” dials for speed, gasoline, and tach. So, although the technology exists to make push-button transmissions and a digital dash…people don’t want them.

After several calls to AT&T and other folks, looks like we’ll have dial-up internet for a while. There just isn’t service in the area.

I’m not really mad at AT&T, though. After all, every 1 1/2 minutes on hold for many hours I was reminded that MY call is “very important to them.” How often do we say that to each other? Think I’ll mention that to the next friend that calls….after leaving them on hold all afternoon.

“I just don’t get why people are so fanatical about trees and our carbon footprint,” I said in typical radio guy arrogance. Angie and I were traveling down the highway in an SUV driving about 70. “Why are these folks such fanatics?” When you have a talk show, you presume that you’re right and the conversation will be about me talking and Angie listening. Wrong.

“Fine, why don’t you just throw your trash out the window?” said Angie. I started to explain why that would be different, and that the ‘crying Indian’ ads of the 1960’s were right. “How is throwing out trash wrong,” she said. “Why can’t we all just toss our junk out of car windows…someone will clean it up.”

She can be sarcastic AND smile at the same time. What a “one-two punch” that is.

It got me to thinking about the pleasures we take for granted because “someone else” will clean it up. We spent a great morning kayaking Anderson’s White River on Monday. The “White River Watchers” work to keep the river clean. It’s easy to kayak and pretend you’re and explorer in native lands. In reality, the river would be filled with garbage without the efforts of some great folks.

Plastic bags sprout on the interstate highways every month or so as workers cleanup our garbage. Unseen men and women collect our trash from our homes, usually before dawn, once a week. Water is safe to drink in any public park thanks to unknown people cleaning our water supply.

As I type this I’m wearing a silk tie, leather belt and shoes, cotton shirt, and some type of synthetic blended pants. I’m probably not going to switch to pants made from hemp, or heaven for bid, sandals. But, the next car will likely be a hybrid of some type and I’ve started taking a few things to the recycling center.

I’m not a fanatic, but I’m becoming more ‘friendly.’

I’m convinced many of the things we learn from childhood are stored in a sorta “mental filing drawer” in our brains. You can’t exactly remember what is IN the drawer, but there is an index. This past weekend I pulled up a bit of fatherly advice given me sometime when ties were thin and Elvis was, too.

Our new home was pretty well stripped by the previous owners before we moved in last month. Someone somewhere has a vast box of light bulbs, circuit breakers, and closet doors. But, there was a not-so-hidden treasure buried in the attic insulation. A GIANT antenna. I mean huge.

The only thing I can figure is that this refuge from another time was assembled in the attic and was too big or too worthless to move. Some unnamed soul did take the time and effort to hook it into the existing cable system in the house. (The electric cable “booster” was removed, but that was to be expected…)

Our previous house didn’t have cable, either, but it was a choice of the “Franklin Financial Committee.” This esteemed group meets monthly, usually over the dining table, and discusses in a rational way household finances. It usually de-volves into me whining about not having cable. However, saving $50+ per month for something I don’t watch often, makes financial sense.

The discovery of an antenna before we moved was a surprise treat. No more rabbit ears.

A large part of one evening last week was spent dusty and covered with insulation. After digging through several boxes I found the cable “booster” I’d saved from the old house. And managed to hook it into the antenna. Calling downstairs to my wife, Angie, I said, “how does it look?” “Pretty fuzzy” was not the answer I wanted.

It was then, in the insulation, I thought about my own father. Our antenna was outside, on a pole, tied to the side of our home. Mom would station herself in front of the t-v, my sister and I in the yard, and dad on the roof. He’d holler that famous phrase, “better or worse” and start adjusting. Mom was at mission control before the RCA, and my sister and I were “relays.”

They say a man is truly an adult when he starts saying and using phrases of his father. In my own case, the lessons were good ones and positive. We’ve not been blessed with “relays” at the Franklin home, so I had to shout a bit louder. But, “better or worse” was a phrase I was shouting from my attic and, despite the heat, it made me smile.

Oh, in case you’re curious, my folks long ago abandoned the antenna and have 100+ cable channels. Maybe I can still learn a few lessons from dad.

The Franklin Family has moved. We’re in the new house, boxes are everywhere, and nothing can be found. I’m tempted to wear a Halloween costume to work…because it’s clean and I know where it is. Black socks, t-v cables, and an overdue library book are in another dimension.

So, with all the boxes to unpack, things to install, and challenges to be faced…why am I worried about my lawn?

In the old neighborhood we had a nice average lawn. The guy next door would mow, cussing all the way, about once a month. My other old neighbor would mow a lot, and usually mow my yard too. It was a pretty good system, and we were “average.”

The new neighborhood is great and the people have welcomed us with open arms. We have had company a few times, amongst the boxes, and little notes are left in the mailbox. I think, though, it’s because of this warmth that I’m uncomfortable about our lawn.

EVERYONE works in the yard on our street. Arnold Palmer would love to have golf courses which are as nice at the lawns on our street. I’m serious. Our neighbors have lush green lawns with roots at least 40′ deep. The grass is the shade of green only found in photos of Ireland in spring.

My yard is a yellow mess.

I don’t really know how to fix my lawn. If a light doesn’t work, you check the bulb. If a car won’t start, check the battery. If a yard looks terrible, you panic. Instead of wearing clean socks, packed in some random box, I’m visiting Lowes looking at seed. Instead of hooking up television, I’m sharpening the mower blades. Instead of working “in” the house I’m “outside.”

Today it’s raining. I hope that’s a good thing. $50 worth of fertilizer is on the yellow yard. It’s supposed to be wet, then dry for 2 days, and then rain again. It’s been raining for 12+ hours.

Oh, it will work. This yard will turn green. However, if it doesn’t, I’m researching sod companies who work from 10 PM - 4 AM. If they are really quiet, maybe I can just replace the yard without the neighbors knowing. Shhhhhhhh…