My parent taxi service is calling for a return to foot, bike, or possibly the horse and buggy
Steve Hartwig
I’ve recognized the impact gas prices have on my family finances. I discovered my crosstown driving to and from schools, sports, band, grocery shopping, our favorite bookstore and, of course, coffee shops now costs more than my commute to work. Not good! So, do I quit kids or work?
Pondering… thought-bubbling… speaking with a higher power… asking friends for advice… I’ve even tried asking for advice on Facebook, but was thrown in jail.
I enjoy being actively engaged in my kids’ lives, but I have to be honest with myself; the cost of taxiing is entering the “too expensive” category. Not the “car is too expensive” category — everyone needs a sweet ride, right? — I mean the “kids are too expensive” category. So, I’ve decided to sell a couple off. It‘s difficult choosing which kid, and I’ve had a serious interest in them all, because I really love them. But like socks, do I part with holes in the toe or heel? That’s a difficult decision.
In the meantime, I’d like to propose a return to horse or foot travel for children, to and from all activities. They often complain, but I used to walk many kilometers to and from school — uphill both ways — and always covered in at least two feet of snow. I don’t understand the reasoning behind their argument because life is so much easier now, just more expensive!
Dear IKEA, I like your meatballs, but please help me
Emmaline Spencer
Dear IKEA,
I recently built my little sister’s new bed frame from IKEA and I have never seen an IKEA instruction booklet so thick in my whole life. The bed came with four boxes of parts and four separate bags of screws galore. I wanted to cry multiple times in the process. There is a deep sense of struggle when no parts are labeled and all you have for instructions are pictures and several pieces that look identical, minus a couple of different pre-drilled hole placements.
Too deep into the project, I realized it was a choose-your-own-adventure style instruction manual. Unfortunately for my sister, this meant she had no choice in the orientation of the bed since I didn’t understand that at the start.
Don’t worry though, it gets worse. Upon coming to an end of this multi-hour gong show of building a bed, we get to the final page of instructions. The final instruction is to lay down some slats that were not included in the four boxes and that we would have to buy separately. I will be obtaining the slats later today, but by golly, please make your instructions clear and clarify what we need to complete furniture.
Sincerely,
A worn out customer
The joy of power outages
Sydney Marchand
Last week, during a crazy wind storm, my house lost power. Maybe a tree fell over on a power line, or the wind caught too much speed, I don’t really care how or why it happened, all I know is that I love power outages. I took the opportunity to turn off my laptop and collect a bunch of candles that I had tucked away in my closet and scattered them around my house. My walls turned into shadowboxes cast in a warm, auburn glow. The hum of the refrigerator stopped, there was no TV to distract me, no buzz of fans or glare of overhanging lights. Just silence.
I quickly found myself curled into a ball on my couch, wrapped in far too many blankets, being forced to take a moment to calm down. I was reminded to breathe and disconnect — even if it was only for an evening. The fright of windstorms and power outages is nothing compared to the little pockets of peace and serenity that they so often bring. They can be a great reminder to unplug, sit in silence, and relax for a moment. So bring it on, wind. You aren’t so bad.
Halloween treats rebuked
Kian Johnson
Last issue, Jeff called the Wunderbar a “Blunderbar” here in the opinion section. I disagree, but now’s not the time for such arguments because there’s a bigger villain at play: fun size treats.
They’re the candy equivalent of full-price loose leaf textbooks marketed as “for student convenience.” We all know that this spineless spinelessness is a misrepresentation. The so-called convenience curbs itself when you try to shove the thing into an appropriate binding. In the same way, the fun in “fun-size” evaporates as soon as you have to open 70 tiny Snickers packages to emulate a regular sized bar.
Originally promoted by Mars in 1968 to sell smaller-portioned candy as nutrition mindfulness increased, the term reflected the idea that you could still eat junk food without worrying about your health. As someone who eats his fun-size candy dozens at a time, this clearly no longer applies to me. The term now reflects a variety game for those who trick-or-treat, and it creates a wrapping mess for everyone.
If this whole rant has put you off any fun-size candies you have laying around, don’t worry. Come to The Cascade’s office and I’ll take care of them for you. Just make sure Jeff doesn’t find out.
Steve is a third-year BFA creative writing/visual arts student who’s been a contributing writer, staff writer and now an editor at The Cascade. He's always found stories and adventures but now has the joy of capturing and reporting them.
Emmaline is working on her BA and ambitions to become an English teacher. They always say, those who cannot do, teach. She spends her free time buying, reading, and hoarding books with the hope that one day she will have no furniture and instead only have piles of books.
Sydney is a BA English major, creative writing student, who has been a content contributor for The Cascade and is now the Opinion editor. In 7th grade, she won $100 in a writing contest but hasn’t made an earning from writing since. In the meantime, she is hoping that her half-written novels will write themselves, be published, and help pay the bills.
