Reality Check | Mike Taylor

Any hope I had of living a private life went by the wayside the first time I griped about one of my ex-wives in print. I try to be as honest as I can be in these columns and sometimes I wind up revealing more than I really want to. Or should.

Too often, these “revelations” serve only to highlight my incompetence, ignorance and personality flaws, all of which are legion.

By way of example, my lack of math skills has been well documented here. Regular readers of this column (Hi, Bob and Joyce!) know that even simple addition can make my head hurt if it involves too many digits (three or more).

Mr. Paepke’s ninth grade algebra was my last real math class. Mr. Paepke did his best with me, but I was not a model student. I’m sure there are still nights he wakes screaming from nightmares of the countless, fruitless hours we shared together in his classroom.

At any rate, I try to be honest about my Jethro Bodine-like arithmetic skills.

Which is why I was so surprised by a letter I received from reader James Bedor the other day. That letter — five hand-written pages! — was sent in response to a comment I made recently regarding my lack of understanding of Einstein’s “Special Relativity” theory.

Mr. Bedor, a retired physics teacher, has taken on the Herculean task of teaching me … gasp! … higher mathematics. And not just math, but PHYSICS!

Mr. Bedor’s attempt is noble, but he’d have better luck teaching French to a chimpanzee. Just ask Mr. Paepke.

In his letter, Mr. Bedor assures me he will only be touching on the “‘simpler’ aspects of Special Relativity.” He then goes on to pen comments such as “…material objects cannot reach the speed of light in a vacuum because the energy you use to accelerate the material object makes the object more massive (energy and mass are two forms of the same thing)” and “Rather than accelerating the object to C, the speed of light in a vacuum (light does go slower than C in transparent objects like water and glass) … Moving objects become shorter in length in the direction which they are moving as seen by an external observer. The limit is zero length as their speed approaches the speed of light in a vacuum (C).”

There are FIVE PAGES of this stuff and it only gets more arcane with each passing page.

Mr. Bedor, I do applaud your heartfelt attempt to lift me out of ignorance, but honestly, what I hear in my head when I read your letter, is “A-well-a, everybody’s heard about the bird / Bird, bird, bird, b-bird’s the word / A-well-a, bird, bird, bird, the bird is the word / A-well-a, bird, bird, bird, well, the bird is the word — I wonder what “C” stands for? — A-well-a, bird, bird, bird, b-bird’s the word.”

And the formulas you included (I assume the little drawings with squiggle marks, numbers and letters are some sort of formulas)? Well, I didn’t understand them in Mr. Paepke’s ninth grade algebra class and, if possible, I understand them even less now.

I mean, c’mon! “V2 = N, – N = (19c) – (-18c) = h7c?” And this is the one that has characters I sorta recognize! (Though I have no idea at all what they mean in this context.)

Despite all his mathematical proofs, I’m not sure I even agree with Mr. Bedor’s (and Einstein’s) conclusions. Sure, Mr. Bedor has a lot of numbers, letters and squiggle marks proving nothing can travel faster than the speed of light. I, meanwhile, have nothing but 30 years worth of Star Trek indicating the exact opposite.

I suppose I’m inclined to come down on the side of Captain Kirk, if for no other reason than that he never tried to make me understand math.

Mike Taylor’s book, “Looking at the Pint Half Full,” is available at Robbins Book List in Greenville and in Kindle format at Amazon.com.

Teen Beat | Grace Fowler

From the stories you hear on the news and in movies, you’d think not having a dad in my life would cause me to be an incredibly screwed up kid. Kids whose parents are divorced often get this kind of a reputation, like something is wrong with us or somehow we haven’t had a fulfilled childhood. I know plenty of kids whose parents are still married that are more “screwed up” than I am.

I think stability has more to do with the foundation you are raised with and your morals, than whether your parents live under the same roof.

The reason my family moved to Michigan is because of my parent’s divorce. While the transition hasn’t always been easy and my brother, sister and I had a lot of change to deal with all at once, I try to see it in as much of a positive light as I can. I try to look at all the opportunities I have been given since we moved here. I have been able work at multiple jobs, be closer to my extended family, and I met my best friend here. I knew that my family needed to start over and, to my way of thinking, we couldn’t have picked a better place to do so.

Things are probably hardest for my brother because he doesn’t have what should be the most important male figure in his life present on a daily basis. But he has found a few men who are great male role models to fill the holes, as have I.

As well since moving here, I am not only closer to my maternal grandmother, but I also have gained two more sets of grandparents. I’m not really related to either of these couples, but they treat me as if I was. And I’m grateful for that support.

I have a few father figures here, too, and what I’ve found — especially in this town — is that once people start caring about you, they treat you like family. All of my “fathers” give me words of wisdom, they teach me life lessons and they comfort me like a dad should.

It isn’t all rainbows and gumdrops, however. I do get sad sometimes when I watch movies where the daughter is on the outs with her dad and then they make up and live happily ever after. Or when I see TV shows where the girls are always able to run to their fathers for advice or for a hug. I don’t have that. I also developed a few weird quirks because of my parent’s situation like having a hard time with hugs and trust. Sometimes I wish I could turn back the clock and put everything back together the way it used to be. But I can’t.

Regardless of all the drama I’ve been through and the hole that I constantly have to work to fill, I know that everything happens for a reason and this whole ordeal has made me the person I am today.

Don’t assume that kids are going to be troubled or screwed up because they are from a divorced home. And if you are one of those kids, resign yourself to the fact that sometimes it’s going to suck, but make a list in your head of three positive things about your day or your life — maybe a new opportunity you have been given or something that will help you in your future. And remember, there’s always someone who has it worse. To end on a light note, in the words of Kelly Clarkson, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

Grace Fowler is a senior at Greenville High School. She can be reached at grace@staffordmediasolutions.com.

On My Mind | Maureen Burns

You always remember your first one. Of course, I am writing about our local triathlon. What can I say? Wow! Wow! Wow!

I love this kinda stuff. I have also loved every year of the Danish Festival. I love the spirit of community excitement and working together. This triathlon was another great example.

The trail gave the fans a perfect perch to watch from. The beautiful Baldwin Lake and scenic road around it were glorious for the participants to experience. Hills gave them great challenge. A participant from Reeds Lake in East Grand Rapids said, “This lake is so clean. This was a wonderful place to do this. Usually we end up running in fields.”

Lake people morphed into cheering squads as they floated around from spot to spot ringing bells. I guess they hadn’t all gotten the memo, “BYOT” — bring your own tambourine. I seemed to be the only one out there with two bells and a tambourine. I’m pretty sure lots of other cheerers were jealous.

A few days later, I heard that Keith Hudson cheered participants on with a drum. His memo must have been “BYOD.”

As we all gathered here and there along the route to cheer folks on, it was wonderful to see how that encouragement lifted them. They smiled, some with big grins, some just with their eyes as the race was taking everything they had. Several came back after the  finish to thank us. Many thanked us as they went by. I had never realized before how much athletes appreciate or need that.

Thinking about it, when you’re running, biking or swimming — you are doing the work of keeping on keeping on, all by yourself. It is you and your thoughts. The noise and cheers are balm for the tired spirit and body.

“This was a fabulous event. It was so well organized and so well done. It was wonderful.” That comment came from the winner of it all. He won and then went back onto the course to find his sister and cross the finish line with her.

The weather was supposed to be bad. All the weather reports confirmed. My heart ached for all the people who had trained so hard and all the others who had worked so hard planning the event. At about 3:30 a.m. there was thunder, lightning, and rain. My heart sunk more. But, it quickly passed and then the Gods and Lady Luck shone bright on this event. A lovely cool temperature, clear skies and then full bountiful sun made the triathlon everything everyone hoped for.

My super brother-in-law, Mike Devereaux, did it as a relay. He did the bike part. Mike is in the midst of chemo therapy for cancer and this was a shining example of his zest for life.

Gregg Daniels had a full knee replacement not long ago and completed the full event. He planned to walk the running part and came through like a trooper, fourth in his age group. He did it with his son-in-law, Booner Williams. Booner is a local boy, grandson to Lloyd and Marcia Walker, who came in from St. Louis, Mo., to do this. Booner didn’t even train for it. He made it look way too easy.

Penny Dora ran past us and said, “Never underestimate how hard this is!” And then she added, “Which is what I did!” as she ran past us to the finish line, wearing her beautiful big smile.

Vicki Korson emailed me recently and said, “I don’t know how I got into doing this. I can’t imagine how I’ll do.” She sailed through with pride and strength and came in numero uno in her age group.

Julie Momber and Gisela Peek walked the Mackinaw Bridge with me a year or so ago. We did it to conquer our fear of heights, or at least get a piece of them. Now they took on the triathlon and conquered that. They trained hard and made it look easy – great examples, for sure. Gisela, 68, was No. 1 in her age group and the oldest participant in the triathlon.

As if all this glory, excitement and achievement weren’t enough, when it was over, an event was held for kids. They swam 100 meters in shallow water, biked 2.2 miles and ran a half mile. To watch as the kids ran and biked by was absolutely wonderful. To hear how they were cheered and announced in as they crossed the finish line, was heartwarming.

My friend, Miss Emma Wolverton, age 8, was No. 1 in her age group. I asked her how it was. “It was pretty cool. The hardest was running.”

“Would you do it again,” I asked? “Yes,” she exclaimed without hesitation.

More than 150 volunteers made this fab day happen. More than 225 participated from age 7 to 68. Participants came from five states, including Hawaii.

Oh, and, we can’t forget all those cheerleaders, on the lake and all along the way — family, friends, strangers, everyone excitedly encouraging others. I gotta train next year, though. I’m telling ya. Never underestimate how hard it is to ring bells and a tambourine for hours. I can hardly move my fingers to type this. And I heard that Lisa Pullum and Amy Korson ended up with blisters on their fingers from ringing their cow bells.

All in all, bravo to everyone, including those sun gods. What a peak day. Wow! Wow! Wow!

Maureen Burns, a Greenville resident, is a professional speaker and author. Her e-mail address is maureenburns@maureenburns.com.

There are more than 3,000 different species of mosquitoes throughout the world. Currently, 176 species are recognized in the United States. A new species, Anopheles grabhamii, was reported from the Florida Keys in 2001 (Darsie et al. 2002).

Record rainfall in the month of April, resulting in flooding and standing water created an ideal breeding ground for summer’s biggest nuisance — mosquitoes.

These annoying, blood-sucking insects aren’t just bothersome, but can also cause serious illness.

The deer tick is another troublesome pest that can cause illness.

During the summer months, many families will head out to the woods for camping, picnicking or simply to enjoy a walk or hike through nature. These activities needn’t be avoided, but precautions should be taken when spending time in the great outdoors.

John Niewoonder of the Flat River State Game Area Field Office of the Department of Natural Resources offers some tips to help reduce the risk of insect-borne illnesses.

• Niewoonder suggests avoiding areas where mosquitoes are prominent such as wetlands and heavily wooded areas. However, if camping in the woods, apply bug repellant liberally. With regard to ticks, some additional precautions should be taken.
“Wear clothing that protects the skin and inspect yourself (for ticks) when you have been in a wooded area,” Niewoonder said.

• The Michigan Department of Community Health (MDCH) advises the use of insect repellant that contains specific active ingredients such as DEET, Picaridin or oil of lemon eucalyptus.

• MDCH also suggests taking steps in and around the home to prevent mosquito infestation by replacing or repairing screens and removing empty containers with standing water. The reporting of dead birds is also crucial in tracking the spread of West Nile Virus because dead birds can easily be tested to see if they are affected with the disease. This can be done by visiting www.michigan.gov/westnile.
Load the camper, pack the picnic basket and head for the great outdoors but don’t fail to include a good insect repellant, protective clothing and a pair of tweezers.

Reality Check | Mike Taylor

We’re becoming a society of effete dandies bent on transforming every aspect of life into an upscale fern and chrome shopping mall experience that smells faintly of lilacs and Chanel No. 5.

Maybe this is simply the next logical step in human evolution, maybe a byproduct of the sexual revolution, or maybe the change is fueled by Madison Avenue and simple economics. Whatever the reason, we seem determined to “deluxe-ify” pretty much everything.

Yes, everything.

Good enough is no longer good enough.

What am I talking about? To tell you the truth, I’m never quite sure myself. But it’ll be easier to explain if I first cite a few examples.

Garbage cans. When I was a kid (back in the early Mesolithic) garbage cans were metal, dented and, usually, very, very stinky. They served two purposes; holding garbage and breeding flies.

Using one was simple. You lifted the lid and dumped in garbage. Then, once a week, you hauled it to the curb and the garbage man came by, removed the garbage and left the can.

It was a fairly simple system. Not any more. Now, trash (the part that isn’t recycled) is placed in strawberry scented plastic bags, securely sealed and placed in colorful (pink, if you care about breast cancer) plastic Dumpsters. The Dumpsters — which never actually touch garbage — are emptied weekly by a sanitation engineer.

It’s basically the same system as the metal can, but it smells better, looks better, and — if you don’t count the millions of tons of nonbiodegradable, strawberry-scented plastic trash bags — is better.

Then there are the burger joints and other fast food-type eateries. These used to be nonfranchised, mom ’n’ pop establishments with questionable cleanliness standards and burgers to die for. They weren’t fancy, but the food was real good and real cheap.

These days, even the fast food joints are trying to go upscale. The other day I dropped nine bucks and change at an incongruously named “cafe.” For my money, I received a burger that tasted like greasy sawdust and an order of fries that had been under the heat lamp so long they’d begun to develop melanoma.

But since the restaurant shoehorned the word “cafe” into its name and added a couple hanging plants, I at least knew I was dining in style.

Sweet Annie lives in a pretty, upscale neighborhood where folks really, really aspire to the genteel lifestyle. They upscale everything there, and then charge you for it big time.

She recently moved from her home into an apartment there. Not just any apartment, but an “apartment home.” It says so right on the sign at the complex’s manicured entrance. To me, they look just like apartment-apartments, but nope, they are “homes.”

Apartments are for poor people.

Down the street are even nicer “condo homes.” The condo homes also look exactly like apartments, but they’re not. They’re condos. If you doubt it, just look at what one costs.

The foo-foo factor that really got me, though, was the neighborhood’s store and lock storage facility. You know, the kind of place guys keep all their home theater equipment when they’re between wives.

In Annie’s neighborhood, these are called — and I kid you not — “storage condos.” Really? You’re telling me the junk you can’t fit in your new condo — sorry, condo home — needs a condo of its own?

I’m guessing these people park their cars in a “condo garage” and store their unmentionables in a “condo underwear drawer.”

Where will it end? Will we eventually gift wrap our garbage with silken bows and ribbons to make our curbsides more appealing come trash day? Will we find a name for toilet paper even less offensive than “bath tissue?”

Look. I’m not a savage. I’m not advocating a return to the stinky, dented garbage can days of yore. On the other hand, those burgers from mom ’n’ pop’s greasy spoon were sooooo good …

Teen Beat | Grace Fowler

I recently had an experience where I did the right thing because I knew it was the right thing and I literally could not walk away from the situation. Most of the time it is impossible for me to take charge and do what my conscience is screaming at me to do, and I wish I was able to follow my instinct. The whole time my brain is literally yelling at me to say something or step in but I sit there, frozen.

My recent experience is nothing that will change the world and it isn’t something that I am able to put on a resume, but it made me feel good about myself for the rest of the day. I was on my way to a meeting and I saw one of my classmates walking home in the rain. At first I saw him, drove by, and I was going to keep driving but something inside of me put the brakes on and turned the car around. I rolled down my window and asked if I could give him a ride home. We had done a project together and I knew he lived on the way to my meeting so it wasn’t an inconvenience.

I dropped him off and continued on with my day. Honestly this might seem like the dumbest thing but I shared a similar experience a few years ago, except I was on the receiving end of the ride. It was almost winter time and we had jus finished volleyball practice and I had to walk home. I didn’t live far away, but I was stupid and didn’t bring a jacket. So here I was walking in, maybe, 40-degree weather in spandex and a T-shirt.

There was a girl on the varsity team who had always intimidated me. She wasn’t overly friendly and she had no intention of befriending any underclassmen. She was drop dead gorgeous and a very talented athlete. As I was walking home, she pulled off to the side of the road and asked if I wanted a ride home. It caught me off guard and I was a little freaked out and so I said no. She pointed out the fact that it was freezing and I didn’t have a coat and practically forced me into the car. We made small talk on the ride to my house and we never really spoke again after that.

I was very grateful and obviously it stuck with me, considering it happened several years ago. She did the right thing even though I wouldn’t have died and she didn’t really gain anything from it.

I want to say thank you to all of you who have done something like this for someone. You might think it doesn’t change anything or really matter in the long run and, honestly, it probably won’t. Still, thank you and the world appreciates your kindness.

Grace Fowler is a senior at Greenville High School. She can be reached at grace@staffordmediasolutions.com.

Personally Speaking | Robin Miller

Not many things in life are more exciting for a teenager than getting a driver license – an experience I recently shared with my son. But before he could get his license, there was the dreaded, nerve-wracking road test with Scary Larry.

We suspected Larry would be tough. The word around town was that he was no pushover. And I wouldn’t want him to be; after all, the responsibility of driving isn’t to be taken lightly. I’m convinced he must have been an upper level commander in the military or a foreign dictator in a previous life. Larry rarely smiled. He slowly and carefully enunciated every word and was very blunt and to the point.

As my son sat in the hot seat in front of his desk, Larry proceeded to collect the necessary documents required to take the test — Segment 2 completion certificate, Level 1 license and the vehicle proof of insurance and registration. He made several references to the Driving Skills Test Study Guide, which he referred to as “a secret among most teenagers who take the test.” He told my son that everything he needed to know to pass the road test was in that book.

Larry was very formal and addressed my son as “sir” and me as “ma’am.” I was proud of my son’s reaction. He sat up straight, made eye contact and politely answered his questions. Before we headed outside for the vehicle inspection and parking test, Nate confessed to Larry that he was nervous. “Why, can’t you drive?” Larry responded. In his defense, I quickly said, “He’s a good driver.” Larry said, “Well, I’ll be the judge of that.”

After completing the parking test, we got in the car. Larry rode shotgun while I sat in the back seat behind my son. I silenced my cell phone, remembering the “No cell phones during test” sign in the office. We pulled out and headed west. My son had practiced driving in the area, so I was fairly confident. Besides, I had my foot firmly planted under his butt, ready to give a good, hard warning nudge.

He knew to watch for speed limit changes and signs indicating lane merges, yield and no turn on red. He was doing well. Then, “ring, ring,” echoed the car speakers like an alarm signaling danger. “Danger,” of failing the test because I forgot the Bluetooth rings even when my phone’s silenced. Larry never flinched. He continued scribbling notes on the paper on his clipboard as he directed my son “right” and “left” throughout town. My son asked if he could turn on the air conditioner. “I don’t know, can you? Larry responded. “Does the book say you can’t? Mom’s probably hot, too.” More than you know, I thought.

After our 25-minute trek, we arrived back at the office … back to the hot seat. I was relieved, but still nervous. The anticipation leading up to this day was enormous and now my son’s fate was in the hands of Scary Larry. We both listened as he went over the road test, not offering praise, but not criticizing, either. He asked my son why he didn’t do “head checks” on three lane changes and whether he knew why they were important. My son – nervously rubbing his clammy hands together — said he didn’t realize he hadn’t done the head checks but had learned about them. Larry gave stories of accidents involving young inexperienced drivers killing passengers or themselves or causing permanent disabilities. He told the dangers of showing off, speeding, “getting air,” and making bad choices among friends or in the parking lot at school.

What Larry shared hit home, especially for my son. We both understood the life-altering consequences of making mistakes while operating a vehicle. Finally, Larry told us he passed the road test. I wrapped my arms around my son’s sweaty back. He stood up and shook Larry’s hand and looked him straight in the eye and thanked him.

As we drove away, relieved the road test was over, my son turned to me and said, “Giving road tests is a big responsibility, mom. Lives are in his hands.” It was then we realized why Scary Larry has to be scary.

 Robin Miller lives in the Edmore area.

On My Mind | Maureen Burns

This is one of many fun quotes by Ellen DeGeneres. I am a big fan of Ellen. She is one of those few people in the world that is known by her first name only — like Cher, Lucy, and Beyonce. I don’t watch her show regularly but have certainly seen parts of it. I love to watch her dance her way through the audience.

My niece, Rachel Devereaux, teaches at Cannonsburg Elementary School. Not long ago she was with other teachers. Someone said they had a friend who was the executive producer for “The Ellen DeGeneres Show.” They asked Rachel if she’d like to be on the show with them. “Just tell me when,” Rachel replied. Well, when happened recently and what a fun time it turned out to be.

They had VIP tickets, of which there are only about two dozen given out. VIP Means you don’t wait in line while other people wait in lines of ropes like at Disneyworld.

There is tight security for the show. You must show ID Your arm gets stamped with a blue light of the Warner Brothers symbol. No cameras are allowed. Purses are checked thoroughly in every single pocket. You go through a metal detector. As you are doing all of this, there are signs up on what to do if there is an earthquake. The show is in California. Oh, yeah, you’re not in Kansas anymore.

The party starts while you wait in line. There is a long hall you go through filled with pictures from the show and monitors with fun clips. All are designed to make you laugh and have fun. As you wait, which takes about an hour and a half, you can shop in the Ellen store, which is only accessible if you are on the show.

Rachel was placed (yes, they place you) in the dancing aisle. This means you will be closest to Ellen as she dances through the aisles, which are made extra wide to accommodate her dancing.

After you are seated, a guy comes out to warm you up. He dances with everyone. He encourages you to dance wild. “Who’s the wildest dancer? Who has the wildest moves?” He gives T shirts to get them hyped. They are nicely told that, “Ellen might dance here or not, but if she does dance by you, have fun dancing with her, just don’t hold her up”.

There are more rules. No gum. No going potty unless it is a big emergency. No shouting words out. He teaches folks to turn off their cell phones as he says he knows many don’t know how to do that.

Everyone then gets up and dances. They have competitions against other sections of the audience. By the end, when the show is ready to begin, Rachel said, “You are totally exhausted.”

Once the show begins, there are no cuts and no edits. She gave a joke the audience didn’t respond to and she said, “Seriously?” This was left in the final cut and not edited out. She gives her monologue and then says, “Let’s dance.”

“Car Wash” was played and she danced from the back up. As Rachel was in front, she couldn’t see her coming. But then . . . there she was. Ellen came right to Rachel. Their eyes locked and they, “had a moment”. Rachel danced with her and was struck by how “really, really beautiful she is and so very thin.”

Once Ellen got to her seat, she talked softly. Rachel had to concentrate hard to hear her, probably because the audience had clapped so loudly and for so long.

Between commercials there was no interaction with the audience. Ellen practiced her lines. A guy told you when to clap and when to cheer. He pumped you up repeatedly.

Ellen has an overall message and she is very sincere about it – treat people with kindness and accept people. “Most comedy is based on getting a laugh at somebody else’s expense. And I find that that’s just a form of bullying in a major way. So I want to be an example that you can be funny and be kind and make people laugh without hurting somebody else’s feelings.”

I think what the world needs is more people like Ellen who radiate kindness and make the world laugh. I’m also grateful to Rachel who allowed me to share her great big fun adventure with you. So pass it on, readers. Have a good laugh today and radiate some kindness. Maybe we could all make this a daily habit.

Maureen Burns, a Greenville resident, is a professional speaker and author. Her e-mail address is maureenburns@maureenburns.com.

Just Thinking | Julie Stafford

A colleague and his wife recently had a baby girl — tiny, doll-sized fingers, chubby kissable cheeks, peach fuzz head, all dressed in pink with footies. I was lucky enough this week to have the privilege of holding her, tucked in the crook of my arm, just staring at that tiny mouth and perfect little nose.

Without even thinking about it, I realized I was swaying back and forth, with a gentle bounce from foot to foot, and patting her diapered bottom. An automatic flashback to when my kiddos were that small. Hard to even imagine now. But I think it’s a mom thing, that sway.

That got me thinking about one particular night — actually, it was the wee hours of the morning — about four or so months after my oldest daughter, Grace, was born. I was bone tired, having a hard time keeping my head up rocking in her chair. She was wide awake and all mixed up about day and night, so I decided to just lay her down next to me so I could doze and calm her fuss. She was gooing and spittling and working hard to focus on her toes, which were up in the air. Already I wondered what she would become?

On Sunday, that baby girl, who has grown into a beautiful young woman, gorgeous on the inside and out, will graduate from high school and begin preparing for college. Already I’m trying to brace myself for the hole that will be left in our home when she’s not there every day.

As a parent, you hope your children grow up to be kind and generous and smart and funny and set practical goals and dream big. You hope they make it over the bumps like braces, and acne, and broken bones. You hope they make great friends, earn good grades, go to college or get a meaningful job, are productive members of society.

I have watched in awe as Grace has blossomed from a giggly little chatterbox who always pointed to the sky and wore twirlie dresses and talked in third person has grown into a teenager who is above and beyond thoughtful, conscientious, curious about the world, open to new ways of thinking and doing.

Grace has been through more life changing events than most, but not as many as some. And she’s handled herself true to her name. With Grace. People often congratulate me on doing such a great job in raising an outstanding daughter. Quite honestly, I think they’ve got it backwards.

Grace has helped shape who I am today. She encouraged me to reach for something better when things weren’t going so well. She helped me see things I couldn’t because they were too big. Her sense of humor and snort lightened many a dark day. And she is quick with wisdom beyond her years. Grace doesn’t want gifts or ask for things she doesn’t need. Her life has been shaped by travels to places where people live in unspeakable poverty.

Grace hopes to study medicine one day. Maybe she’ll follow that dream. Maybe she won’t. But what I know for sure is that after Grace walks down the aisle on Sunday, her life is just beginning. And it’s going to be exciting to watch what it brings. I may not have a crystal ball to help ease my anxiety about what the world will bring to her, but what I know for sure is that this planet will be a better place because of Grace.

Reality Check | Mike Taylor

Since addressing the topic of mosquitoes last week, I’ve done a little research. It turns out that not only are mosquitoes annoying, they also are the deadliest creatures of all time, even when one factors in the people who manufacture Twinkies and Pauly Shore movies.

In the history of the human race, about 46 billion deaths have been attributed to illnesses transmitted by mosquitoes. This equates to roughly half the people who have ever lived. Half! Ever!

Well, I say, enough is enough. Of course, when I say it, the mosquitoes just laugh, or at least they make little buzzing noises, which I assume to be the mosquito equivalent of laughter. But just recently, geneticists have taken up the battle cry and mosquitoes won’t be laughing much longer.

Anthony James, a scientist from UC Irvine, has figured out a way to genetically “hack” mosquitoes in such as way that the females hatch without wings. Because it’s the girl mosquitoes that bite, this renders the entire population harmless.

The boy mosquitoes then go their way, find new mosquito girlfriends, mate (after dinner and a movie, presumably), and thus create yet more generations of wingless, harmless mosquitoes.

Eventually, the blood-sucking, vile little … it’s hard to describe my feelings toward mosquitoes in a classy, family-oriented newspaper like this one. Suffice it to say that the mosquitoes all eventually become extinct.

Cage-based tests have shown that if you turn loose enough gene-hacked male mosquitoes, the entire population is decimated — with extreme prejudice — in just a few months. This could, theoretically, be done (insert evil laugh here) worldwide.

So far, James’ experiments have been conducted under strictly controlled conditions. But Luke Alphey, one of James’ former colleagues — and one, in my opinion, with more vision — has taken the tests to the field, releasing the hacked males into the environment.

This would probably violate all sorts of laws and rules here in the States, but Alphey released the mutant bugs on the Grand Cayman island in the Carribbean, where no such laws exist.

If some of those altered skeeters manage to get off the island, well … these things happen. And believe me, they will get off if I have to row there and get them myself.

Now, under ordinary circumstances, I — along with most other right-thinking, bleeding heart liberals — would question the morality of exterminating an entire species. I mean, who are we to play God?

But we’re talking mosquitoes here, man!

Sure, I know, what about the impact on the environment, right? Will killing off all the skeeters create some sort of domino effect? Will flies follow? Then mice, cats, dogs, cows and eventually, us?

According to researchers, nope, that won’t happen. It turns out that, to quote one study, “…the complete eradication of mosquitoes would have limited, if any, adverse environmental effects.”

And that’s good enough for me! I say, nuke ‘em and let the bug-free barbecue begin.