Monthly Archives: September 2012

Of plums, their sweetness, politics, and the eternal desire for more

by Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author’s program note. I decided to walk to the Farmer’s Market yesterday; usually I ask Mister Joseph to drive me, the better to bring home the excessive armloads of produce I need to feel I have enough. But the weather, on the cusp between a summer exiting and a fall arriving, was perfect for something ambulatory and good for you.

Yes, it was a perfect day to be out and about…. and the way to the market hard by the Charles Hotel was packed with everyone and his brother, folks who had the same idea as I did: to prepare squirrel-like for the rigorous winter ahead… never mind that every morsel I purchased this day would be long gone before the first flake of snow hits the pavement. It’s the thought that counts, that there would be enough, that I would have enough, and that this winter there should be, for me and mine at least, an ample sufficiency.

It is most curious to me how this process works. One minute it is a hot, stiffling New England summer day… then, as if by magic, there is a whiff of the New England autumn ahead with its preview of gusts and dismay about the return of the winter that tests us all so sorely, the more so if Social Security is your metier. This touch of autumn is Nature’s wake-up call… and, unless you are clueless on such matters, you get the point and do the necessary. Thus I was walking to the Market with a friend who said, “I knew I should have worn my sweater.” He really didn’t need it… but Nature’s clues resonate more with some than others. Moreover since he is not of hardy stock, he needs a call more clarion than I do. And he got it.

“Done for the season, sir.”

Last week there were white peaches, blueberries and a few blackberries, too. I asked how long the fabulous whites, an exquisite liquor in a soft skin, would last. The young woman behind the counter, overly plump and too young to catch her breath as often as she does, was cavalier. “We’ll have them for another month at least.” But today, just a few days after her confident pronouncement, there were no whites to be had, no more to come, and so I was disgruntled. The only white peaches now were in my head with many a long day to pine for them and wish them sooner here….

But when God, they say, closes a door, He opens a window. And that was nothing but the truth this day… for there before me was a deep purpled fruit I had, in my lamentation for the whites, forgotten. But the fruit had not forgotten me. “Try the plums, sir. They’re oozing and ready to pop in your mouth. No waiting!” Thus the young woman, who any 18th century English novelist would have correctly described as a “saucy wench”, thereby in some measure regained the good opinion of Yours Truly… and so, by the merest touch, I confirmed her evaluation… eyes engaged for color… fingers to test for perfect readiness… only mouth yet to call into action… and that, once accomplished, lead to a dozen ready to take home and devour without ceremony.

And so with the plum I had regained my equanimity and good cheer. I knew exactly how Little Jack Horner must have felt when he, plumless one minute and chagrined, had by deft digital movement extracted a beauty from his Christmas pie. Plums have been coming to the rescue just like this for centuries and so boys like Jack “Sitting in the Chimney-corner” know that a single plum at just the right moment can make a world of difference and that old grannies should be reminded of this whenever the world is too much with us, late and soon.

Facts about plums.

A plum or gage is a stone fruit tree in the genus Prunus. It is a diverse group of species including peaches, cherries and bird cherries, amongst others. Prunus is distinguished from its relations because its shoots have a terminal bud and solitary side buds (not clustered), with flowers in groups of one to five together on short stems, and the fruit having a groove running down one side and a smooth stone (or pit.)

Mature plum fruit may have a dusty-white coating that gives them a glaucous appearance; this is easily rubbed off. This is an epicuticular wax coating and is known as “wax bloom”. Dried plum fruits are called dried plums or prunes, although prunes are a distinct type of plum and may have antedated the fruits now commonly known as plums… but universally regarded as the best.

Plum: the best part of anything.

You have only to eat a plum to understand why they are regarded as “good”. But you need to know something of its long history and association with mankind to understand why the very word itself has passed into our language meaning “the best part of anything,” for to call a thing “plum” is to call it the very best it can be. The question is, how to put this “bestness” to work for our greatest pleasures.

Uses for plums.

Plum fruit tastes sweet and/or tart. The skin, for instance, may be particularly tart. It is juicy and can be eaten fresh or used in jam-making. Plum juice can be fermented into plum wine; when distilled this produces a brandy known in Eastern Europe as Rakia. In the English Midlands, a cider-like alcoholic beverage known as plum jerkum is prized.

In considering how plums are used you must remember that refrigeration is a very recent development in human history. One feature very much in the plums favor is that it dries well and keeps its flavor. Dried plums (called prunes) are sweet, juicy, and contain several antioxidants. They’re widely known for their laxative effect, particularly with elderly people suffering from constipation. How to handle this aspect of what the prune can do has produced sharp disagreement among plums, all of whom have an opinion on the matter.

On the one hand, plums are glad to be helpful, especially to old folks who have eaten plums and been loyal to them for a lifetime. On the other hand, plums wish to develop their reputation for being a celebrity fruit, edgy, cool, the favorite of trend-setters and calorie conscious fashionistas. This split, so distressing to plum lovers everywhere, after many acrimonious years now seems on the road to reconciliation thanks to recent developments in a thing which initially wasn’t a plum at all… sugar plums.

“Visions of sugar plums danced in their heads”.

A sugar plum is a piece of drage’e candy that is made of dried fruits and shaped in a small round or oval shape. But “plums” here mean any dried fruit, such as dried figs, dried apricots, dried dates, dried cherries, etc. The dried fruit is chopped fine and combined with chopped almonds, honey and aromatic spices, such as anise seed, fennel seed, cardamom etc.; then rolled into balls, to be coated in sugar or shredded coconut, thence to go into expectant mouths and such gems of our culture as ” ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas” (1822) ; Eugene Field’s poem “The Sugar Plum Tree” (from “Poems of Childhood”, 1904) and, of course, Tchaikovsky’s masterpiece “The Nutcracker” (1892) where the Sugar Plum fairies and their brilliant theme still enchant despite being egregiously overplayed every Christmas. (Even some plums concur). As for the plums, every time they hear it, they get angry… for their name and flavorful renown have been usurped to sell… apricots! And cherries! And that will never do.

Check your sugar plums… make sure there are plums there. Accept no substitutions.

Since launching this campaign, plum sales have soared… and plums, gathering to extol themselves upon this success, have forwarded any number of additional ideas to keep the ball rolling. The best is to rework Jack Horner’s presentation. Abercrombie and Fitch has been approached for one of their comely lads to hold a strategically placed plum… and nothing more. Kinky.

The Plum Book.

No story on the plums and their great reputation would be complete without a reference to what automatically becomes the most popular book in Washington, D.C. the minute the television networks project the next President. Its actual name is “United States Government Policy and Supporting Positions”; it is, however, universally called “The Plum Book.” It contains over 9,000 civil service leadership and support positions (filled and vacant) in the Legislative and Executive branches of the Federal Government that may be subject to noncompetitive appointments, in other words political appointments.

Are you of an upwardly mobile and competitive disposition? Then imagine this: whilst scanning The Plum Book for something geared to your genius, you nibble an authentic sugar plum whilst listening to the great melodies of the sugar plum fairies. If you’re a plum lover it gets no better than this… go to any search engine now and, with Tchaikovsky’s help and an appointment from the president turn today into Christmas, the plum itself in all its manifestations the best present of all.

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Services include home business training, affiliate marketing training, earn-at-home programs, traffic tools, advertising, webcasting, hosting, design, WordPress Blogs and more. Find out why Worldprofit is considered the # 1 online Home Business Training program by getting a free Associate Membership today. Republished with author’s permission by Daniel Fischer

An open letter to every volunteer on behalf of every organization whichrelies on them.

by Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author’s program note. In this punk economy, the nation’s 1,000,000 charities, non-profit organizations and eleemosynary institutions are hard pressed to do all that must be done for the good of so many. To achieve their admirable goals, they need volunteers… and lots of them. But volunteers who don’t know how to be good volunteers are, in fact, a drag upon an organization’s limited resources. Thus this article from an old hand in the volunteer business. Whether you are a recruiter of volunteers or a public- spirited person looking for suitable volunteer options, this article is for you!

For the music to accompany this article, I have selected perhaps the greatest recruiting song ever, “Indian Love Call.” It was first published as “The Call” but became instantly popular in the 1924 operetta-style Broadway musical with music by Rudolf Friml and Herbert Stohart, with book and lyrics by Otto Harbach and Oscar Hammerstein. They made it good…. Nelson Eddy and Jeanette Macdonald in the 1936 film “Rose Marie” made it great. If there is a drop of blood in your body and a heart that still functions, you cannot help but respond to its soaring lyrics:

“When I’m calling you will you answer too? That means I offer my love to you to be your own.”

Go now to any search engine. Find this celebrated song. Put a box of tissues where you can easily get access. Turn it on… and be prepared to call your favorite charity when finished. You are about to give of yourself for the good of others. “You’ll belong to me. I’ll belong to you.” With this article in hand, you will soon be the best volunteer this organization has ever seen.

It’s a Job.

The first thing you must realize about any volunteer position is that it is not just like a job; it IS a job… and must be treated accordingly. Sadly, too many volunteers think that because there is no paycheck that they have the right to be frivolous and cavalier about the business at hand. Nothing could be more wrong. This seriousness starts even before you are engaged as a volunteer.

What you need to know, and what either the executive director or designee must tell you, is exactly what your duties and responsibilities will be. In other words there must be a clear understanding of what the organization expects from you and your ability to live up to these expectations. Naturally, both parties should expect to put all this in writing, so that both parties are clear… and so that they remain clear throughout the volunteer’s involvement. Here are just some of the things the volunteer must be told and the organization must be clear in informing:

* clothes. What you’ll be doing will guide your selection.

* name and contact information for person responsible for assisting the volunteer.

* available training materials and where to find them.

* exact duties and when, where and how they must be done.

* how to report progress and/or where and how task-related queries should be handled.

Note: new volunteers are in need of constant hand-holding and TLC. Expect to provide it.

Introduce the players.

New volunteers must be assigned a mentor, someone who will show them the ropes, a person like the Artful Dodger in Charles Dickens’ “Oliver Twist” . His song in the 1968 film perfectly sums up the relationship between mentor and mentee. “Consider yourself at home. Consider yourself one of the family. We’ve taken to you so strong. It’s clear we’re going to get along… Consider yourself one of us”. Exactly.

Mentors must be friendly, knowledgeable, accessible, “good people” willing to extend a helpful hand and (above all) gifted with a sense of humor and an ability to live by the words of Theodore Roosevelt, “to do the best you can, with what you’ve got, where you are.” In short paragons of astonishing virtues and skills.

Is there more to learn? Of course there is… there always is, if you want to be one of the best volunteers ever.

* Stay informed about the organization by promptly reading all organization emails, ezines, etc. Do not allow yourself the luxury of falling behind.

* Action everything requested in a timely fashion. Do not make your mentor or other organizational contacts chase you for the information they need to do their jobs.

* Ask for and listen carefully to constructive criticism. Properly handled and considered it becomes a fuel for improvement and advancement.

* Be proactive. If you see a problem, bring it to the attention of your mentor. This is the way to show your mentor that you are “with it,” loyal, thoughtful, a self-starter… in short just the kind of person this organization needs and must have.

Still more tips.

* NEVER criticize what you see. Ask why it is that way. Never come across as a pompous know-it-all.

* If you cannot keep a scheduled job assignment, let your contact know as early as possible. Remember, something you cannot do must be done by someone else.

* Always be prompt and keep your excuses to the barest minimum.

* Solve all pc and other electronic device problems as fast as possible. Don’t burden your contact with a boring “blow-by-blow” description. Don’t discuss the problem. Solve it.

Three more key points.

* When you see a problem you can solve, solve it. Organizations rely on people who are willing to do more than their share, and gladly. This is the most important person of all. BE THAT PERSON!

* Work to make the CEO’s life easier. CEOs are people with more on their plates than can easily be processed. In helping them you help yourself; for the more you are able to assist without adding to CEO burdens, the faster you go up in the organization. Never forget this.

And, finally,


Never look upon what you do as drudgery, beneath you, something to be done with as soon as possible so that life’s fun and games can begin. Work properly understood is, as Sigmund Freud knew, one of the two pillars of the successful life, the other being love. Treat this opportunity for constant growth and development accordingly. Then reach out to other volunteers, newer than you, who’ll be glad to hear how you got started and why everyone in the organization speaks so well of you!

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Services include home business training, affiliate marketing training, earn-at-home programs, traffic tools, advertising, webcasting, hosting, design, WordPress Blogs and more. Find out why Worldprofit is considered the # 1 online Home Business Training program by getting a free Associate Membership today. Republished with author’s permission by Daniel Fischer

‘No taxation without representation.’ A.cheeky Scot comes home.

by Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Can you remember when you were just 20 and life was an unburdened joy, even the most trivial things touched by a kind of magic, a certain thrilling madness? I remember…

… and I remember, too, riding my bike around the student city and pristine beaches of Goleta, California in the middle of the night, pulling up to my friends’ apartments and beating on the door with all my might, shouting at the top of my voice, “Get up! Get up! You are sleeping through your life. It’s a wonderful night and you’re missing it! You’re missing everything!”

Soon sleepy voices, petulant. would say, “Go away, Jeffrey! Go to bed! Come back tomorrow!” But I always prevailed, for I was not just a night-time visitor. I was destiny… and could never be denied for long. Soon windows and doors were opened… friends appeared in de’shabille’, groggy, unkempt… soon to be ready for anything; another installment of the rip-roaring, high-spirited, energy-to-burn, could-never-be- contained-life ready to roll… and soon even the sleepiest felt it and exulted, glad I’d come.

This was living indeed… for I insisted on squeezing the last drop of life’s elixir from every moment, without excuse or exception. After all, isn’t that what life is all about? At least that was what my life was all about… no more so than in the time following my selection (in the spring of 1967) to spend my junior year at the University of St. Andrews, Scotland’s oldest (founded 1413), proudest university. From the very minute my selection was announced, life was alive with possibilities, unknown ports, new pathways I knew I’d be traveling with unbridled enthusiasm and bliss. I lived in a constant state of joy, gusto, manic energy and human kindness. I was going to have a life after all… and its starting point had already been announced. I must have been insufferable…

Each day meant doing things never done before; things checked off life’s list, new ways to be glad to be alive:

first passport acquired… first travellers checks…first trip to New York City… first Broadway show…first star autograph at the stage door… first passenger ship boarded…first (legal) cocktails (the minute New York’s jurisdiction was passed). And, once I had boarded the MS Aurelia (thought to be the smallest ship crossing the Atlantic) there were oodles of new friends, sparring partners (for being number one could never be as sweet if there was no number two to lord it over), fellow travelers, lovers. All fueled by a corona of primal energy. It never dawned on me then that some cynics would cavil at the riches we squandered. It was our right… and we did it grandly, with moves, gyrations, and flourishes wondrous to behold, more wondrous to do. I remember this astonishing tableau with nothing but satisfaction… not a single regret except that it, as all other things, ended; this is the tragedy of humanity… but it was a thing of the future, not something to mar the present. Nothing could do that.

Ship life.

Imagine the wildest party you ever attended, imagine every guest young, beautiful, determined to dazzle, show off, capture hearts (and break them). Now double this scenario… then double it again and you have the Aurelia, a ship well known to Baby Boomers once passengers, many celebrated, respectable and staid now, then anything but.

I recall so much… Greek stewards incessantly reminding us there was “no smocking in the life botts”, a line that immediately took wing. U.C. classmate Larry Pitzman, babied at home, his head in a tin bucket for most of every day, even when the Atlantic was at its most pacific. Three of us U.C. students were in this cabin… along with one quintessential German (blond and strapping). Pitzman muttered darkly of Nazis… and regurgitated his most recent meal. I can recall the head in the bucket… but not the face on the head.

Then there was William Powers Ingoldsby always immaculately dressed and perfectly turned out, a yellow tie of watered silk, cashmere blazer, Rue de la Paix. He had been to Europe many times and let it be known (but never bragging for bragging was not his way) his presence was a benediction… and so it was. He thought his cabin mates boisterous but liked them better for that… Because he and I constituted one half the U.C. contingent en route to St. Andrews we were careful with each other, a shade over polite; good relations were essential. We circled warily, scrutinizing each other, friendly, not yet friends. No matter. Destined for the same place, the same college of the same University, we had time enough.

Anxious to arrive.

Exhilarating though ship board life was, it was, for me, largely beside the point… and that point was in St. Andrews. And so I stayed in London just for a bit, to see the things every tourist must see (and to which I never returned despite many return visits)… and to meet and report to Professor Earl Lesley Griggs, director of the U.C. program. He was a scholar of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, spending decades producing volumes of Coleridge’s letters with erudite commentary. I went with Ingoldsby (as all now called him following my lead) to the lavish South Kensington address provided by the University. Ingoldsby, with perfect manners and an unsurpassed way of wafting incense in the direction of those the more grateful for it as unworthy, was instantly persona gratissima. I was not… Griggs, his hair an astonishing mane of gray and white, sensed a tendency in me to scoff, the master of innuendo, double entendre, and calculated insolence. If so, he was right. My skill here was already prodigious, near perfection. No doubt Professor Griggs thought that by giving tea and scones to such as me that he had more than earned his elegant digs. He may well have thought that seeing me go was the only time he would have that pleasure.

But Nemesis enjoyed the frisson, and so began arranging otherwise… whilst I took the overnight express to Edinburgh, then to St. Andrews by the local train which still ran in those gracious days, not yet destroyed by pettifogging bureaucrats glad to inconvenience the privileged students they envied. It was one of the last moments I would be unknown and a stranger in my new environment, though even I didn’t know that yet.

By-election into history.

This complete transformation occurred about three weeks later when I saw the notice there was to be a by-election for the seat on the Student Representative Council (SRC) for the Faculty of Arts. I saw at once the benefits… benefits without drawbacks. If I won, I’d be a stunning champion, a wizard. If I lost, no matter, since no one would expect much of a new student who would in this instance just fade away.

My colleagues were, at first, horrified, aghast. “You don’t know anyone here besides us”, Mark Morris and chain-smoking Lucy Shepherd wailed. “But you,” I said “are all I need.” “You” that is and an issue… which some clueless, ham-fisted administrator gave me on a silver platter when he decreed that first-year students having matriculated just a few weeks before would not be allowed to vote. Such outrage, trampling the rights of an entire class, made me whoop with unbounded glee, for I got the point, even if the administration did not. Not since Cardinal Beaton had been crucified (1546) on the great doors of the Cathedral had there been such outrage and indignation in St. Andrews. It couldn’t have pleased me more.

And so aided by my first friend at the University, Ian Mowatt, who at 18 looked 10 but always made me laugh, I found a tricorne which made me resemble the Lexington patriot whose shot was heard round the world; thus we rallied my burgeoning army of helpers… outraged revolutionaries to a person. My dorm room, just across the street from the Royal and Ancient Club, the home of golf, was packed with them daily. Win, lose or draw, I was already a known entity for sure… about to do what no American had ever done…

Predictably, after my urgent, eloquent broadsides, distributed by the high energy rights advocates who abounded and carried them everywhere, the administration buckled, confounded, abashed, embarrassed delivering to me the votes of an entire class… and every liberal sympathizer, too.

It was all happening like the plot of a Frank Capra film; the last piece the time-honored heckling where one stood before one’s outrageous classmates, armed with garbage and putrid fruits and vegetables, proving one’s worthiness for their vote by lightning fast quippery. My main opponent was, I think, a second-year man (I was tertian) and had been awarded the part of Kate Kennedy in the unique pageant the year before showcasing all the historical figures involved with the University over the centuries. Kate Kennedy was always played by the most comely boy in the freshman class. I am pleased to tell you my sarcasm was hilarious, withering, stinging and memorable. The vote that followed was not merely a victory but a landslide, historic.

And so I became the people’s choice, the first American so elected to the SRC and a credit to my Clan MacMillan, whose well-known member (and my distant cousin), Harold, had just been Prime Minister (1957-1963). Is it any wonder a British parliamentary career (with eventual peerage) crept into my thinking?

Congratulatory letter.

My advisor at the University wrote Professor Griggs and informed him of the event and its proud significance. The return letter from Griggs to me must have been gall and wormwood to craft… I had many cheerful evenings reciting it, rendering it, acting out for my irreverent friends and followers the man, his message of pinched congratulation, and his every grimace, frown and imprecation as he worked. Delicious.

Author’s program note. For music to accompany this article, I have selected “The Sword Dance” from the 1947 Broadway production of”Brigadoon”. Music by Frederick Loewe and lyrics by Alan Jay Lerner.

Let the eerie stateliness of the bagpipes enter your bones. It is a bonnie tune indeed! I’m dancing… join me! Let us fling together. Find it now in any search engine. Then end with “The Heather on the Hill.” It captures the essence of this fragrant symbol of Scotland and the lyric poetry in every Scot.

Dedicated to the gentle memory of William Powers Ingoldsby, too soon taken, and the unending charm that captured every heart.

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Services include home business training, affiliate marketing training, earn-at-home programs, traffic tools, advertising, webcasting, hosting, design, WordPress Blogs and more. Find out why Worldprofit is considered the # 1 online Home Business Training program by getting a free Associate Membership today. Republished with author’s permission by Daniel Fischer Check out Info Cash ->

‘Hear how the wind begins to whisper. Soon it’s gonna rain. I can tell.’

by Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author’s program note. In 1960 one of the loveliest musicals ever written hit the Big Apple and made history. It was “The Fantasticks” with music by Harvey Schmidt and lyrics by Tom Jones. It tells an allegorical story, loosely based on the play “The Romancers” by Edmond Rostand, concerning two neighborhood fathers who trick their children into falling in love by pretending to feud and erecting a wall between their houses.

The show’s original off-Broadway production ran a total of 42 years and 17,162 performances, easily making it the world’s longest-running musical. One of its gems is a song called “Soon It’s Gonna Rain”, and I defy you to listen to its lyric beauty unmoved… Go now to any search engine; find the original cast album. Then close your eyes and imagine the gentle rain falling calm and serene, washing away all distress…

“Then we’ll let it rain./ We’ll not feel it. Then we’ll let it rain./ Rain pell-mell.”

Beautiful isn’t it?… And, in this summer of 2012, painful and ironic, for in these dog days of this scorching year there is no rain, though millions pray daily for relief and wonder why God does not respond and save His people.

The facts.

The first and most sobering fact, a fact millions are still not prepared to believe, is that climate change is no longer a “threat” that will occur sometime in the future. It is present reality as virtually every scientist in the field confirms. This includes three scientists who make their findings clear in the August 2012 issue of the journal “Nature-Geoscience”.

The findings by Christopher R. Schwalm, research assistant professor of earth sciences at Northern Arizona University; Christopher A. Williams, assistant professor of geography at Clark University, and Kevin Schaefer research scientist at the National Snow and Ice Data Center, are telling. In a nutshell, this is their conclusion: extreme weather and drought are here to stay and will influence our lives directly or indirectly.

Item: This year’s drought, no end in sight, is already one for the record books in terms of duration, severity and temperature.

Item: The 2011 drought in the South Central states was a record at the time, but has easily been bested by the events of 2012.

Item: Widespread annual droughts, once a rare calamity, have become more frequent and are now ready to become the “new normal.”

Bad news gets worse.

Item: A growing frequency of weather and climate extremes like heat waves, droughts, floods, and fires can be expected.

Item: Future precipitation trends, based on climate model projections from the coming fifth assessment from the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, indicate that droughts of the 2012 severity will become commonplace as the century progresses.

Item: Assuming “business as usual”, each of the next 80 years in the American West is expected to see less rainfall than the average of the five years of the drought that hit the region from 2002-2004.

And still more bad news.

Item: Crop yields will continue to fall, with many more local cases of complete crop failure.

Item: Agricultural productivity will decline as plants take in only half the carbon dioxide they do normally, thanks to drought-induced drop in photosynthesis.

Item: Major river basins, already showing 5 percent to 50 percent reductions in flow will fall further, with lakes and reservoirs unable to return to “normal.” Ever.

Is there any good news?

Frankly, not a great deal. In fact, as I sit here surrounded by learned studies, articles the more alarming because so grounded in indisputable fact, and the jeremiads of scientists worldwide, I want to bury my head in the sand like most everyone else. But of course that is completely useless and unhelpful, whoever does it.

Why our “leaders” do not lead.

Why do the words “climate change” and our options so rarely if ever pass the lips of our major presidential candidates? They are intelligent men… but they also refuse to rock any boats and a frank, open discussion on the matter certainly does that, roiling the dwindling waters.

They know that talking about human-induced carbon emissions would upset the “see no evil” voters of Michigan, for instance, and Ohio, states they must carry. Thus, the conspiracy grows. Voters and candidates know about the problems of climate-change… but no one wants to bite this bullet which will necessitate major changes of every kind. And so, before our eyes, things worsen. It is the American way and it will, in due course, sabotage our culture and lifestyle.

To avoid this all-but-certain outcome, these are the questions we must ask and honestly answer:

1) Do we have the will, the stomach and the fortitude to see this problem completely and truly?

2) Are we willing to examine all data without flinching or prejudice?

3) Are we willing immediately to act, to implement our findings without special pleading or exemptions?

4) Have we the guts to stay with earth-saving programs for the long durations necessary, for there can be no rushed or instant conclusions?

5) And finally. Will we induce our leaders to lead by demanding constant effort and a frank, open discussion of continuing problems, deterioration and, yes, progress. For if we do not hold their feet to the fire, they will not focus on the necessity for curtailing it.

Is progress certain?

Not as things stand at this moment… but we have not yet begun to fight, and so we cannot say what we will do to keep the rain coming and all the benefits which ensue therefrom. “The Fantasticks” will help…

“Soon it’s gonna rain/… And we’ll not complain/ — Happy ending — / / If it never stops at all.”/

That would be fantastick indeed!


At about 5:45 a.m., just as I was completing this, the heavy mist of early morning changed into greater abundance as the lightest of rains… a benevolent beginning, most welcome. May it come soon to your neighborhood and help cleanse us all.

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Services include home business training, affiliate marketing training, earn-at-home programs, traffic tools, advertising, webcasting, hosting, design, WordPress Blogs and more. Find out why Worldprofit is considered the # 1 online Home Business Training program by getting a free Associate Membership today. Republished with author’s permission by Daniel Fischer