The passing of time as we understand it, is an arbitrary and artificially applied concept, humanly divined and codified for selfish purposes. Our lives are ordered by time and we are dependent upon the system we have established for ourselves, a system that is both frustrating and liberating. Nevertheless, regardless of the historical development of how time moves, with its expression of the rotation of the earth, the sun, the changing seasons, the pull of gravity, and complexity of relativity of space and matter, we are obligated to operate within the established code of time, which may be naturally driven or socially constrained by culture.
Do we eat three meals a day, morning, noon, and evening because our bodies tell us to do so? Or have we fallen into this concept by virtue of the design of our lives, thus forcing our bodies into a fallacy of the need for three meals equally spaced? Do we sleep at night because it is dark or because of the physical requirement for rest or perhaps a combination of both? Our watches and clocks remind us of the time which in turn sends a message on upcoming event or obligation. Schools, businesses, institutions, travel, energy, all depend on our system of time and our understanding of its movement and passage.
Yet for Joel, autistic since birth, time has no meaning. He does not understand nor embrace in any sense, the passing of time. For him time stands still and he almost resents having to conform to the system that has been codified and efficaciously applied. He recognizes the actions of a clock and is frequently reminded of seconds, minutes, and hours, but those odd increments are but words to be used when confounded by forthcoming events. The concept of time spent on an activity has no meaning and the word hurry is not a part of his vocabulary.
This makes Joel's existence rather random yet also ironically regimented. Because the passing of time is essentially a mystery, he must apply rigor, ritual, and routine to everything that he does. The more routine, the more successful he will become. Yet surrounding that routine and enveloping the action is the overriding lack of concern about length or expectations. This makes for a tension filled universe for everyone else connected to Joel, but not for him. His contentment with time playing little to no role in his life is wildly frustrating for others but wildly comforting for him.
For the autistic child, his inner peace is found in personal expression of his interests, focusing on those activities for which he is successful regardless of their niche in the world. I knew one autistic child who constantly drew maps of the world. Sometimes the maps were detailed and other times rather general. The maps served no real purpose since better maps are attainable at any bookstore; yet he continued to draw maps as a way to fulfill his own peculiar brand of self-expression.
Joel finds satisfaction playing the piano and the organ as well as listening to classical music or watching certain television shows. While none of these activities serve a great market need in the world, and riches are most likely not going to occur from his interests, nevertheless he does express his joy through these events. An autistic child is not seeking to find his place in the world, rather he has already found it and is comfortable in that residence. For Joel, the passing of time is some kind of mysterious force that plays little to no role in his theater, a theater that consists of his own designs for expression.
Yet, truthfully, the world cannot operate singularly and one-dimensioned. Monody is charming and refreshing but cannot compete with the beauties and complexities of polyphony. Joel's rejection of time is one of those endearing qualities that makes him who he is but also prevents him from collective congruency in social interaction. We are a time mandated culture and operating outside of the time boundary is to be anathema in today's world.
This makes for a pleasant tension as we continually teach Joel the meaning of time which he artfully rejects to keep it a mystery!
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Some of the problems
As I continue to chronicle the saga of Joel, our autistic 20 year old son, it occurs to me that I often find the good and tend to leave out the challenges, which in many ways have existed since day one. This is not to say that the challenges are greater than the joys nor to say that we have not learned from the challenges, nor does it abdicate our responsible but loving expectations for him, nor does this mean that Joel is not a remarkable force in our lives and those who cross his path, but it would not be fair to present our son in a vacuum, to demonstrate the hills without showing the valleys, to share the light without also knowing the dark. So forgive me as I write realistically about Joel.
Joel's learning disability, which we do not always understand, is actually easy to handle. We just accept that there are some things we will not comprehend and some situations that he will not put together. Since all of us have different levels of intelligence and we do tend to learn in different ways, and Joel definitely has trouble reading and comprehending and recalling what he has learned, it should not be surprising that he prefers the concrete over the abstract and the obvious over the hidden. As a nearly consummate joke teller and a committed educator, I often deliver subtle jokes to see if he will understand, with the hope that the effort to associate the punchline with the story will aid in conceptual thinking. While he usually laughs (which is why he is often the listener of choice for my jokes), he does not always understand and gives me a perplexed but entertaining look!
This all makes for an existence and a training that cannot include subtleties of expression, expectations, innuendo, or natural understanding. All instructions must be clear, obvious, and intentional. Many times instructions require explanations for their existence and clarity of purpose. Just to say "please feed the cats" may also need a "...because they are hungry."
This may be why personal hygiene remains a mystery to Joel. He does not enjoy taking a shower, brushing his teeth, putting on deodorant, or shaving. None of these normal events is normal to Joel. They do not make sense to him and most require an understanding of long-term benefits. Yes we brush our teeth because they need it, but to Joel the act of brushing is just a burden. Shaving helps men look clean, fresh, and ready for the day, but for Joel it has no meaning, takes his time, and even hurts a little (so he says).
To this end, we have tried a smorgasbord of methods to get him to be independent and committed to personal hygiene. As is typical for Joel, every method is successful to a point and everything is ultimately unsuccessful. When something works, such as a sign on the door, or a list of required activities, or a stopwatch, we praise him and decide that method is the right one. Yet, eventually it quits working and we find ourselves once again searching for the answers.
As parents who will sacrifice everything for our children, we do not stop trying to help Joel, and we remain committed to the concept of teaching Joel independence in as much as possible. We do find that in general, a routine with written instructions is the best approach to most problems. Connected to this is the constant reminder to Joel to be aware of himself with the sensitivity to how others see him. This is a difficult concept for a concrete thinker, one who sees the obvious and does not understand the subtle.
Yet it is all rather dichotomous due to the irony of Joel's personal presentation. On any given day, he may forget to wear deodorant, brush his teeth, shave, or even comb his hair, yet that same day he might wear a nice suit with a tie and polished shoes. He is complimented often on his general appearance, thereby making the lesser obvious problems seem negligible in his mind. This may, in fact, contribute to the challenge.
Joel's learning disability, which we do not always understand, is actually easy to handle. We just accept that there are some things we will not comprehend and some situations that he will not put together. Since all of us have different levels of intelligence and we do tend to learn in different ways, and Joel definitely has trouble reading and comprehending and recalling what he has learned, it should not be surprising that he prefers the concrete over the abstract and the obvious over the hidden. As a nearly consummate joke teller and a committed educator, I often deliver subtle jokes to see if he will understand, with the hope that the effort to associate the punchline with the story will aid in conceptual thinking. While he usually laughs (which is why he is often the listener of choice for my jokes), he does not always understand and gives me a perplexed but entertaining look!
This all makes for an existence and a training that cannot include subtleties of expression, expectations, innuendo, or natural understanding. All instructions must be clear, obvious, and intentional. Many times instructions require explanations for their existence and clarity of purpose. Just to say "please feed the cats" may also need a "...because they are hungry."
This may be why personal hygiene remains a mystery to Joel. He does not enjoy taking a shower, brushing his teeth, putting on deodorant, or shaving. None of these normal events is normal to Joel. They do not make sense to him and most require an understanding of long-term benefits. Yes we brush our teeth because they need it, but to Joel the act of brushing is just a burden. Shaving helps men look clean, fresh, and ready for the day, but for Joel it has no meaning, takes his time, and even hurts a little (so he says).
To this end, we have tried a smorgasbord of methods to get him to be independent and committed to personal hygiene. As is typical for Joel, every method is successful to a point and everything is ultimately unsuccessful. When something works, such as a sign on the door, or a list of required activities, or a stopwatch, we praise him and decide that method is the right one. Yet, eventually it quits working and we find ourselves once again searching for the answers.
As parents who will sacrifice everything for our children, we do not stop trying to help Joel, and we remain committed to the concept of teaching Joel independence in as much as possible. We do find that in general, a routine with written instructions is the best approach to most problems. Connected to this is the constant reminder to Joel to be aware of himself with the sensitivity to how others see him. This is a difficult concept for a concrete thinker, one who sees the obvious and does not understand the subtle.
Yet it is all rather dichotomous due to the irony of Joel's personal presentation. On any given day, he may forget to wear deodorant, brush his teeth, shave, or even comb his hair, yet that same day he might wear a nice suit with a tie and polished shoes. He is complimented often on his general appearance, thereby making the lesser obvious problems seem negligible in his mind. This may, in fact, contribute to the challenge.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
More stuff
As I ruminate this Christmas season over what to buy and for whom, I think about my grandmother's house and the belongings within. She and her husband accumulated lots of stuff. Not that they were hoarders by any means, and not that they boasted over their collection of goods, and not that they were excessive at all, and not that they had some deep psychological fear of not having things, yet in spite of their moderation and frugality, they acquired a lot of things. This is not dissimilar to most people. We have lots of stuff these days.
While we tend to complain about the excessive commercialism of Christmas, we don't really do anything about it. We continue to go shopping and buy things for our family and friends. We add to the stuff. Of course if the stuff weren't so readily available, perhaps we wouldn't be tempted to add to our growing collection of more stuff. Not sure though. It is easy to cogitate on the truths of Christmas and to recognize that gifts are merely an expression of our love for each other and a way to say thanks to those who mean so much to us, and to be a manifestation of the wise men who traveled so far to give gifts to the King, but less easy to make a change to our system.
Not that anyone really wants to by the way, but it does seem to me that we are acquiring too many things. Materialism is a disease and one that we seem to like. I cannot claim innocence in this department myself as I look at several hundred books, a new truck, nice clothes, and many odds and ends. On the one hand, it is easy for me to criticize the acquisition of things that will get thrown away at some point, but I participate in my own brand of materialism through books, music, and electronics. It is almost cultural, inherent, natural, and decidedly required for us to seek out more. While this in and of itself adds to the progression of life, to its refinement, its creativity, and yes to some extent its joy, it can also inhibit the deeper purpose of who we are.
At some point, and that point cannot be determined, it would be worthwhile to examine our malignant materialism in terms of pragmatism, aestheticism, comfort, and entertainment. If we pare everything down to one of those four categories, we discover that many things can go away, and those items can be labeled non-essential in the human sense. Subsequently, it may be time for us to simplify our existence in a kind of deliberate moving away from property multi-tasking. Since everything we have is property in some sense, focusing on one item at a time is a move against the ADD that infects all of us.
Meanwhile, it is much easier stated than acted upon, and I suspect that my children will one day have to deal with all the stuff we leave. Maybe some of it has monetary value or sentimental value, but I suspect that much of it, ultimately, will end up at the dumpster and covered with dirt. In fact I would guess there are mountains of junk that are buried, and on top of those mountains, we will once again have green grass! I am reminded that my legacy is not determined by my things but rather by my contributions, my family, my work, my compassion, and my love for others.
While we tend to complain about the excessive commercialism of Christmas, we don't really do anything about it. We continue to go shopping and buy things for our family and friends. We add to the stuff. Of course if the stuff weren't so readily available, perhaps we wouldn't be tempted to add to our growing collection of more stuff. Not sure though. It is easy to cogitate on the truths of Christmas and to recognize that gifts are merely an expression of our love for each other and a way to say thanks to those who mean so much to us, and to be a manifestation of the wise men who traveled so far to give gifts to the King, but less easy to make a change to our system.
Not that anyone really wants to by the way, but it does seem to me that we are acquiring too many things. Materialism is a disease and one that we seem to like. I cannot claim innocence in this department myself as I look at several hundred books, a new truck, nice clothes, and many odds and ends. On the one hand, it is easy for me to criticize the acquisition of things that will get thrown away at some point, but I participate in my own brand of materialism through books, music, and electronics. It is almost cultural, inherent, natural, and decidedly required for us to seek out more. While this in and of itself adds to the progression of life, to its refinement, its creativity, and yes to some extent its joy, it can also inhibit the deeper purpose of who we are.
At some point, and that point cannot be determined, it would be worthwhile to examine our malignant materialism in terms of pragmatism, aestheticism, comfort, and entertainment. If we pare everything down to one of those four categories, we discover that many things can go away, and those items can be labeled non-essential in the human sense. Subsequently, it may be time for us to simplify our existence in a kind of deliberate moving away from property multi-tasking. Since everything we have is property in some sense, focusing on one item at a time is a move against the ADD that infects all of us.
Meanwhile, it is much easier stated than acted upon, and I suspect that my children will one day have to deal with all the stuff we leave. Maybe some of it has monetary value or sentimental value, but I suspect that much of it, ultimately, will end up at the dumpster and covered with dirt. In fact I would guess there are mountains of junk that are buried, and on top of those mountains, we will once again have green grass! I am reminded that my legacy is not determined by my things but rather by my contributions, my family, my work, my compassion, and my love for others.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Passing of a Generation
My 91 year old grandmother, who we always called Sallie, after nearly 8 years in a nursing home, passed away leaving behind two daughters and three grandsons. She was the last of my grandparents. Prior to her stroke and the onset of Alzeimers, she was a happy lady with a definite and pointed worldview. She was not swayed by the technology surrounding our current culture, but was instead shaped by the hands-on experiences of her life. Hers was the generation before the computer age, before cell phones, even before remote controls, multiple television channels, before immediate and instant communication, before automation of all kinds shapes and sizes.
I recall trying to show her how to use a computer. She of excellent typing skills and office management ability could not deal with the computer, with its odd keyboard, quietness, strange screen, and memory bank. Her inability to comprehend the new robot-like machine led to a general suspicion of its worthiness and ultimately caused its rejection as having any value for her life. She was comfortable with a pen and paper and that comfort level remained throughout most of her life until she could no longer hold a pen. She wrote letters, long letters full of the kind of detail that keeps the mind sharp.
She preferred the dial telephone where you place your finger in the number hole and go around until it stops, but she did accept the new approach of actually touching the numbers and creating tone. She did enjoy talking on the phone with the exception that long distance calls were kept at a minimum due to the costs incurred. She never could escape the fear of the great depression and somehow felt that dollars even pennies should be guarded very carefully. At the same time her reliance on the government to solve the world's problems took her to liberal heights not often found in other family members. She continually supported the democratic party and when asked why, she would say, "You had to be there to understand." She and many others had to place their trust in FDR and that trust got extended to the government at large, a trust that remained throughout her life.
The television was a source of great joy but only for the three channels available. When more channels became the norm, she rejected them, keeping channels 4, 9, and 12 as the reigning champions of television. In addition to the local news and weather, the best channel was the one showing the Dallas Cowboys with Tom Landry and Roger Staubach at the helm, men she knew on a first name basis! Of course commercials brought with them opportunities to serve cake and cookies which had been prepared that morning in the midst of getting ready for a massive meal.
And my grandmother probably never ate the massive meal since the glasses were always filled with tea and the rolls never quit showing up on our plates. Her roving eyes to make sure all were eating and all were happy would land, sometimes with harsh judgment, on the person who was not eating. Meat, vegetables, and bread must all be eaten until there was no more room at which time the pies would arrive. Surrounding this bevy of food was conversation ranging from normal family stuff to local business. From my grandfather, whom we called Ray, a man who knew no strangers and liked everyone he met, I learned about the rich, the poor, the politicians, the lawyers, the Chinese, Mexicans, African-Americans, Indians, Whites, and occasionally some races I didn't know existed. I also learned about property, canned goods, Farah slacks, and the latest car design. Mainly I learned how to love each other in spite of our flaws and to listen carefully for there are always gems of truth to be gleaned in most conversations!
They are gone now, Sallie and Ray, and I miss the old days at times. I miss the constant tuneless whistle Sallie would offer when in the kitchen. I miss the hustle and bustle of meals, of Christmas, of camping trips, and yes even mowing their lawn. I miss the clank of the pipe as my grandfather emptied it, replacing old tobacco for a fresh batch, and I miss the burning of the match as it nearly ignited his finger before a quick flick of the wrist extinguished the flame. Mostly I miss the smiles, the energy, and the unconditional love of my grandparents.
We are now in a new dimension and one that the older generation never did embrace. It is replete with texting, computer searching, youtube videos, email, cell phones, talking cars, automatic lights, complicated kitchen items for ease of cooking, laptops, desktops, and information right at your fingertips. All these things are a part of our everyday lives and make our lives both richer and more complicated. Yet let us not forget that joy doesn't come from the things we see and touch. Joy comes from the love we receive and give to others. Sallie and Ray gave us love and that is what I will miss the most. Thank you!
I recall trying to show her how to use a computer. She of excellent typing skills and office management ability could not deal with the computer, with its odd keyboard, quietness, strange screen, and memory bank. Her inability to comprehend the new robot-like machine led to a general suspicion of its worthiness and ultimately caused its rejection as having any value for her life. She was comfortable with a pen and paper and that comfort level remained throughout most of her life until she could no longer hold a pen. She wrote letters, long letters full of the kind of detail that keeps the mind sharp.
She preferred the dial telephone where you place your finger in the number hole and go around until it stops, but she did accept the new approach of actually touching the numbers and creating tone. She did enjoy talking on the phone with the exception that long distance calls were kept at a minimum due to the costs incurred. She never could escape the fear of the great depression and somehow felt that dollars even pennies should be guarded very carefully. At the same time her reliance on the government to solve the world's problems took her to liberal heights not often found in other family members. She continually supported the democratic party and when asked why, she would say, "You had to be there to understand." She and many others had to place their trust in FDR and that trust got extended to the government at large, a trust that remained throughout her life.
The television was a source of great joy but only for the three channels available. When more channels became the norm, she rejected them, keeping channels 4, 9, and 12 as the reigning champions of television. In addition to the local news and weather, the best channel was the one showing the Dallas Cowboys with Tom Landry and Roger Staubach at the helm, men she knew on a first name basis! Of course commercials brought with them opportunities to serve cake and cookies which had been prepared that morning in the midst of getting ready for a massive meal.
And my grandmother probably never ate the massive meal since the glasses were always filled with tea and the rolls never quit showing up on our plates. Her roving eyes to make sure all were eating and all were happy would land, sometimes with harsh judgment, on the person who was not eating. Meat, vegetables, and bread must all be eaten until there was no more room at which time the pies would arrive. Surrounding this bevy of food was conversation ranging from normal family stuff to local business. From my grandfather, whom we called Ray, a man who knew no strangers and liked everyone he met, I learned about the rich, the poor, the politicians, the lawyers, the Chinese, Mexicans, African-Americans, Indians, Whites, and occasionally some races I didn't know existed. I also learned about property, canned goods, Farah slacks, and the latest car design. Mainly I learned how to love each other in spite of our flaws and to listen carefully for there are always gems of truth to be gleaned in most conversations!
They are gone now, Sallie and Ray, and I miss the old days at times. I miss the constant tuneless whistle Sallie would offer when in the kitchen. I miss the hustle and bustle of meals, of Christmas, of camping trips, and yes even mowing their lawn. I miss the clank of the pipe as my grandfather emptied it, replacing old tobacco for a fresh batch, and I miss the burning of the match as it nearly ignited his finger before a quick flick of the wrist extinguished the flame. Mostly I miss the smiles, the energy, and the unconditional love of my grandparents.
We are now in a new dimension and one that the older generation never did embrace. It is replete with texting, computer searching, youtube videos, email, cell phones, talking cars, automatic lights, complicated kitchen items for ease of cooking, laptops, desktops, and information right at your fingertips. All these things are a part of our everyday lives and make our lives both richer and more complicated. Yet let us not forget that joy doesn't come from the things we see and touch. Joy comes from the love we receive and give to others. Sallie and Ray gave us love and that is what I will miss the most. Thank you!
Monday, December 07, 2009
Texting vs. Speaking
Joel, our 20 year old autistic son, has difficulty speaking most of the time. Some days he speaks little to none while other times he is a little more verbose. Yet, even in his talking moments, rarely does he have something substantial to say. On good days he is full of questions that seem to build on each other. The questions could be about family members or what hymns we are singing or the starting times of events or how old people are or what instruments are being used. Mainly, though, spoken language is a challenge for Joel and he mostly finds himself nodding or speaking very quietly.
Yet a new and rather stunning development has occurred. Joel enjoys texting on his phone. He writes long involved texts that demonstrate a deeper understanding of life, a way to seek beyond the obvious, and a way to express his emotions. Below are some of his texts:
"Hey daddy can you pick me up around 4:00 so I can get my haircut afterwards? See you in an hour and forty-five minutes! Do you think it is going to snow tonight? It is kind of chilly outside! Brrrr! I am taking a cold rc cola break at the library! I am dressed kind of warm! I have a scarf some gloves a hat a jacket and a sweater! Are you wearing a tie today or a turtle neck? I am going to shelve some more books here in a minute! Then I will call you at around 4:00 to pick me up in time to take me to get a haircut! Ttyl bye! P.S. It is my birthday in 5 days! I am going to be 20 years old! Yay!"
and:
"Thanks dad! Do you mind if I wait outside for you at around 3:30? I shelved lots of books today at the library and I might shelve some more books here in just a few minutes! See you at 3:45! Tell all the professors of Howard Payne University I said hi and tell all the students I said hi too! Ttyl bye!"
Of course some texts are shorter and simpler, but in general he speaks more through texting than through talking. Why is this? Is it the strange block that occurs from the brain to the mouth for some autistic children? Does texting actually allow a circumventing of the neurons needed for speaking? Perhaps communication for an autistic child is deeper, requiring a different form and transit from which we are familiar. Perhaps the conduit for expression is a channel not usually found in most people.
Whatever the reason, we are enjoying the new communication and we are enjoying discovering a personality that shines forth from the cell phone! Ah Joel...always keeps us on our toes!
Yet a new and rather stunning development has occurred. Joel enjoys texting on his phone. He writes long involved texts that demonstrate a deeper understanding of life, a way to seek beyond the obvious, and a way to express his emotions. Below are some of his texts:
"Hey daddy can you pick me up around 4:00 so I can get my haircut afterwards? See you in an hour and forty-five minutes! Do you think it is going to snow tonight? It is kind of chilly outside! Brrrr! I am taking a cold rc cola break at the library! I am dressed kind of warm! I have a scarf some gloves a hat a jacket and a sweater! Are you wearing a tie today or a turtle neck? I am going to shelve some more books here in a minute! Then I will call you at around 4:00 to pick me up in time to take me to get a haircut! Ttyl bye! P.S. It is my birthday in 5 days! I am going to be 20 years old! Yay!"
and:
"Thanks dad! Do you mind if I wait outside for you at around 3:30? I shelved lots of books today at the library and I might shelve some more books here in just a few minutes! See you at 3:45! Tell all the professors of Howard Payne University I said hi and tell all the students I said hi too! Ttyl bye!"
Of course some texts are shorter and simpler, but in general he speaks more through texting than through talking. Why is this? Is it the strange block that occurs from the brain to the mouth for some autistic children? Does texting actually allow a circumventing of the neurons needed for speaking? Perhaps communication for an autistic child is deeper, requiring a different form and transit from which we are familiar. Perhaps the conduit for expression is a channel not usually found in most people.
Whatever the reason, we are enjoying the new communication and we are enjoying discovering a personality that shines forth from the cell phone! Ah Joel...always keeps us on our toes!
Sunday, December 06, 2009
Receipts everywhere
Walking into church this evening, I noticed some paper on the ground and stopped to pick it up. Although not an obsessed naturalist by any stretch, I do get concerned with trash and debris scattered about. Not only is it unsightly (an unusual emotion for me as a non-visual learner), but it also is not healthy for the grass or trees. I suppose in my retirement, I might be one of those people who walks around with a pointed stick, relieving the environment of unwanted trash. A roving naturalist doing my part to help the environment, like not washing the towels in an extended stay at a motel, or recycling plastic bottles or avoiding running over the turtles crossing the road. Anyway, back to the event of this evening.
I picked up two old receipts, headed to the dumpster, and began to dwell on one of my irritants in life--receipts. Not all, but perhaps most mornings I pull into a drive-through and order a cup of coffee. There is a sign near the paying window that says "If we fail to hand you a receipt, you will receive $5.00 toward any purchase." I, however, wish it said, "If we burden you with a stupid, waste of time receipt, you will receive $5.00 toward any purchase."
I am sick of receipts. They clutter up my truck, get in my way, result in excess trash, waste paper, and generally bother me. I have receipts for gas, dry-cleaning, meals, water, snacks, and the list goes on and on. Recognizing the tax benefit of some items, I would actually prefer the option not to receive a receipt rather than the assumption I always want one. Maybe there will be a day when I can simply show my email address and have all receipts emailed to me. That way I can organize the ones that have a tax deduction. Meanwhile, I suppose I'll just put up with the constant flow of receipts and the absurd need to pick them up when I find them outside on the ground. I would furthermore encourage others to use a trash can, since the earth does not need to be our human trash bin.
I picked up two old receipts, headed to the dumpster, and began to dwell on one of my irritants in life--receipts. Not all, but perhaps most mornings I pull into a drive-through and order a cup of coffee. There is a sign near the paying window that says "If we fail to hand you a receipt, you will receive $5.00 toward any purchase." I, however, wish it said, "If we burden you with a stupid, waste of time receipt, you will receive $5.00 toward any purchase."
I am sick of receipts. They clutter up my truck, get in my way, result in excess trash, waste paper, and generally bother me. I have receipts for gas, dry-cleaning, meals, water, snacks, and the list goes on and on. Recognizing the tax benefit of some items, I would actually prefer the option not to receive a receipt rather than the assumption I always want one. Maybe there will be a day when I can simply show my email address and have all receipts emailed to me. That way I can organize the ones that have a tax deduction. Meanwhile, I suppose I'll just put up with the constant flow of receipts and the absurd need to pick them up when I find them outside on the ground. I would furthermore encourage others to use a trash can, since the earth does not need to be our human trash bin.
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