Monthly Archives: September 2025

Posted in opinion

THE MAYOR OF BALBOA

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By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

Earlier this month I packed up Dooley and seemingly half of my worldly belongings and headed out to Balboa Island. Balboa is adjacent to Newport Beach and is a cute touristy town full of cute shops and restaurants. It seemed like the perfect retreat from the endless hot days of Scottsdale. Dooley had never been on a car ride longer than an hour, so the success of this trip was a crap shoot from the beginning. Plus, I soon discovered that my new car model is smaller than my old model. Or maybe it was that between Dooley’s crate, car seat, stroller, food, grooming equipment, toys and training tools it just seemed smaller. In any event, my friend Pat and I each rented homes on Balboa for the month of September and early on the morning of the 1st, we set out on our grand adventure. To my surprise, Dooley is a great long-distance traveler, and my rental house was perfect – recently updated, freshly painted, and right along the main street with a front patio that was ideal for Dooley and me to watch the world go by.

Ed with Dooley

To be honest, in the weeks before the trip I felt I needed a break from Dooley. He is a very high-energy puppy, and I am, well, more of a sloth. But for various reasons I couldn’t find anyone who could take him, but to my surprise, Dooley’s presence turned out to be a blessing. On the second day of vacation, one of the people who walked by our patio was an elderly man, wearing a Panama hat and walking a golden retriever. He stopped when he saw Dooley, reminiscing about the two Cavaliers that he’s owned. I noticed that he had a patch on his shirt that indicated he was a dog trainer. Long story short, his name was Ed and had been training dogs for 30 years. I hired him on the spot and boy, was he the right guy. His methods were strict and no-nonsense. Apparently, I was failing at being the “alpha” in my relationship with Dooley, but Ed straightened me out with all the subtlety of a drill sergeant. Sure enough, within a couple of days Dooley was already walking better on a leash. Ed came over a few times, and I wanted to bring him home, but we agreed to work remotely on additional behavior issues – mostly mine.

Dooley, on his perch
Dooley with one of his constituents

Every afternoon Dooley scratched at the front door, just itching to get to the patio. He would sit up on the sofa, head resting on the porch railing, and greet everyone who walked by. Who could resist those puppy dog eyes? Apparently no one. Almost every person who passed by smiled or stopped to give him a pat and or ask me about him. I ended up talking with several people multiple times. Without exaggeration, over the three weeks I was there I probably met more than 300 people. Pat jokingly began referring to Dooley as “the mayor”, as he greeted his “constituents” every afternoon. Our multiple walks each day brought other opportunities to meet and greet, including a chance encounter with Kareem Abdul Jabbar. He was walking with two other people a few yards ahead of me and at 7’2″, he’s rather hard to miss. He stopped to sit on a bench, and he smiled at Dooley as we passed by. When I turned and headed home, we passed him again and he said, “That dog isn’t going to attack me, is he?” We both laughed. He clearly has some mobility issues, and it made me happy that Dooley brought him a light moment. I finally realized that without Dooley, I never would have met so many people, had so many engaging conversations, or walked the 13,000 steps he led me on every day. He is my calling card to meeting strangers and making friends. From now on, he will accompany on all of my car trips.

The biggest blessing of this trip was being able to spend time with family. I got to watch college football with Bob and Linda, had a wonderful afternoon and dinner on Balboa at the Village Inn with them, their daughter Dana, and their two grandchildren, Addison and Mack. And on my last night, they hosted a dinner with all three of their children and five grandchildren. We hadn’t been together in a long time, and it was the perfect way to end my trip.

I think Dooley is a 49er fan
Nieces, nephew and the GREATS!

As lovely as it was to be in cooler climes, I learned that a month is way too long for me to be away from home, especially with a puppy. Ed acknowledged that Dooley is a very smart, but very energetic puppy, who would better adhere to training at home. Plus, after three weeks I was ready to sleep in my own bed and have my own “stuff” at my disposal. I admit it, I’m a homebody. As it turned out, Dooley picked up a parasite at the end of our stay and luckily, I was home and near our vet before it hit him full force. So, leaving early was meant to be. But I’m already perusing my options for a vacation home next summer. My chief requirement? It has to have a spot for “the mayor” to meet and greet his constituents.

Posted in Social media

How Long Can We Tolerate Fraud on Social Media?

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by Bob Sparrow

When ‘thefacebook.com was first introduced in February of 2004, it was only available to students at Harvard. A month later it was open to students at other universities like Yale, Columbia and Stanford. In other words, average to stupid people were not allowed – very different than today. In 2005 it was open to high school students and the name changed to Facebook. In late 2006 it was opened to the public; so average and stupid people were finally allowed access. It caught on. By 2008 it had over 100 million users. I must admit to being one of them, as I thought this was a wonderful way to connect with family, friends, former classmates, etc. who were not local. So, I could see what they were up to on a regular basis, and they could see what I was up to. I thought it was a cool concept!

But something happens when you give EVERYONE access to EVERYONE else. Which is a nice way of saying that Facebook gave idiots a platform. So, content is not fact checked, in fact, it seems the less factual it is, the more hits it gets. Which is all Facebook cares about, because it’s free to the user and is paid for by sponsors.

Who programed your trusted physician

Speaking of sponsors, recently an ad popped up, of course it was based on a previous search I had done looking for a particular health benefit. A well-known physician that I respected and had recently read on of his books, came on Facebook talking about a simple cure for my ailment. Yes, they wanted me to buy something, but it wasn’t that expensive and because it came from such a reputable source, I was ready to buy.  But I knew enough to make sure it was legitimate, so I asked Google if it was a scam.  It was. The image and the voice simulation was recreated with the help of Artificial Imaging and Artificial Intelligence. So this influential physician appeared to be saying things that he really was not saying and, in fact, didn’t believe. It’s not just Facebook, it’s everywhere. It doesn’t matter who you see or what they are saying, it all could be artificially generated, just to get you to buy a product that is not endorsed by anyone who might have any knowledge of the subject. We might catch on if we see a bodybuilding ad done by Barney Fife or marriage counseling done by Elizabeth Taylor., but they know we’re not that stupid . . . are we? Demographics today show that 74% of users that go on Facebook to connect with friends and family are seniors between ages 55-65; sellers know that this demographic is the easiest target to fool. (I’m so glad I’m out of that demographic!)

So, yes of course, I’m still on Facebook, as that’s where our blog posts every Monday; but when you juxtapose our low subscriptions with the multiple comments we get, it tells us that most of you read our blog on Facebook, as we only have about 225 ‘Followers’, meaning that those ‘Followers’ have our blog sent directly to their email and read it there, not on Facebook. And yes, we know who you are – THANK YOU! Just to compare our 225 number, the top person being followed on Facebook is Christiano Ronaldo, who has 170 million followers; so, we have a long way to go. He’s a soccer player from Portugal in case you aren’t one of his followers. The top U.S. person being followed is Vin Diesel (not even his real name) with 98 million followers. So, because most of you read our blog on Facebook, we feel like we’d be abandoning you if we took it off and delivered it only to our subscribers email. However as our disgust with Facebook grows, we still might consider the possibility of taking it off. If we do, we’d give you plenty of warning and plenty of opportunity to subscribe, so that the blog would come directly from our website to your email – no middleman or flimflam man, no Facebook.  

To the right of each weekly post is a place where you can ‘subscribe’, it’s free! And don’t worry about Facebook getting along without us; they are currently valued at a little over $1 trillion.

Posted in opinion

THE FLOWER CHILDREN OF ARNHEM

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By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

Every September, in the quiet town of Oosterbeek in the Netherlands, a deeply moving ritual unfolds among rows of white headstones. It’s not a grand spectacle, nor a political affair—it’s a ceremony of remembrance led by children. Known as the Flower Children of Arnhem, this tradition is one of the most poignant acts of gratitude and remembrance in Europe, honoring the Allied soldiers who died during Operation Market Garden in World War II.

Willemien Rieken

The scene is simple but powerful. Hundreds of local schoolchildren, dressed in their Sunday best, walk solemnly through the Arnhem Oosterbeek War Cemetery. Each child is assigned a grave. They kneel, whisper the name of the fallen soldier etched into the stone, and gently place a flower—often a single chrysanthemum or rose—on the grave. There are no speeches from the children, no rehearsed performances. Just a quiet, personal moment between the living and the dead. The Flower Children ceremony is more than symbolic—it’s deeply personal. Some children return year after year to the same grave, forming connections with the families of the fallen. One such story is that of Willemien Rieken, who began laying flowers as a young girl and continued for over 75 years. She eventually met the family of the soldier whose grave she tended, forging a bond that transcended borders and generations.

This tradition began in 1945, just one year after the battle that turned Arnhem into a crucible of sacrifice. Operation Market Garden was an ambitious Allied plan to end the war quickly by capturing key bridges in the Netherlands and pushing into Germany. British, Polish, and American troops parachuted into the region, but the operation faltered, and thousands of soldiers were killed or captured. The Dutch people, who had endured years of Nazi occupation, never forgot the bravery of those who came to liberate them.

What makes this ceremony especially powerful is its intergenerational nature. Veterans who fought in Arnhem often attended, their eyes misty as they watched the children pay tribute. For many, it’s a moment of healing. The presence of young voices in a place marked by loss reminds us that memory is not static—it’s passed on, nurtured, and kept alive by those who never knew the war but feel its echoes.
The ceremony also serves as a quiet rebuke to the idea that history fades. In a world where attention spans are short and headlines fleeting, the Flower Children of Arnhem ceremony stands as a testament to enduring gratitude. These children aren’t just participating in a school event; they’re engaging in a ritual of remembrance that teaches empathy, history, and the cost of freedom.

Each year, the ceremony is held on the first Sunday after September 17, the date Operation Market Garden began so this year it will take place on the 21st. It includes a formal memorial service attended by dignitaries, veterans, and thousands of visitors. But it’s the children who steal the show—not with fanfare, but with their sincerity.

2014 Ceremony

In a time when remembrance can feel performative or politicized, the Flower Children of Arnhem offer something rare: a quiet, heartfelt tribute that transcends nationality and ideology. It’s a reminder that gratitude doesn’t need grand gestures—it needs continuity, sincerity, and the willingness to pass stories forward. So, if you ever find yourself in the Netherlands in September, make your way to Oosterbeek. Watch the children walk among the graves. Listen to the silence. And know that in that moment, history is not just remembered—it’s cherished.



Posted in Writing

So Now I Have to Learn How to Write!

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by Bob Sparrow

As is obvious from the last 14 years of this blog, Suzanne and I love to write. But just recently we decided we wanted to write something besides the blog. Those who follow us know that Suzanne has already written something besides this blog. As in two very good, non-fiction books, In the Enemy’s Camp, (2004)  a riveting account of American civilians, her husband’s family, held prisoner by the Japanese in the Philippines, and Before All Is Said and Done, (2022) a book that everyone should read to prepare you for life after your spouse has passed. Both books are available on Amazon Books.

But I had a story rattling around in my head, with which I wanted to do something. I actually have several stories rattling around in there and I thought it was time to . . . I was going to say empty my brain, but it’s pretty much empty already. So, I asked Suzanne if she was interested in co-authoring a novel, novelette, short story, screen play, television series, something! I really didn’t know how the rattles in my head would shake out. Fortunately, she was on board with whatever we decided.

So, our story takes place in the South Pacific and I believe the germ of the idea came from an old television series called Adventures in Paradise, which was created by James Mitchner, yes that James Mitchner. It starred Gardner McKay, who was, by most accounts, a nice-looking, bad actor. It was on television for three years – 1959 -1962 (I know, some of you weren’t even born yet!). I went on YouTube and watched three or four episodes – it was in black and white, had weak story lines and was poorly acted; generally, it was awful! But it took place in the exotic South Pacific, and I saw potential for perhaps writing a television series that would be in living color, have interesting story lines and be well-acted. After several discussions with Suzanne, it was decided that I would write down the basic story and she would not just edit it, in terms of choosing the right words and punctuation, but helped create the ‘arc’ of the characters and story, as well as re-write parts of it to make it more interesting and believable. We each had our responsibilities; she is an excellent writer, who had experience in the book-publishing process and I . . . well, I just had a story and a desire to write it. But I found out, I didn’t really know how to write a story! So I searched Amazon for books on how to write and found two great ones, both by Sol Stein, Stein on Writing and How to Grow a Novel. When I was done with them, I had scribbled notes on almost every page, yellow highlighted sentences throughout, and dog-eared pages from front to back.

As Suzanne and I were writing this story, we thought it fit nicely as a six-episode television

Working title: In Search of Bali Ha’i

adventure/travel series. So I asked my son-in-law, Jason Shomer, for some advice as he’s a good writer in his own rite and has had experience in this field. He bought and sent me a book called The Anatomy of Story, by John Truby, which is now also scribbled on, highlighted and dogeared. Jason also gave me some advice about writing a television series.

So, Suzanne and I re-wrote what we had into what we thought was a television series, dialogue format. After reading it we decided that we really were over our heads in trying this, and that we should get back to being over our heads in trying to write a novel. The working title for this project is In Search of Bali Ha’i and we’ll keep you updated on any progress with this adventure, but don’t hold your breath, I’m still learning how to write!  

Posted in opinion

A ROBOT TO UNPLUG MY TOILET

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By Suzanne Sparrow Watson

Today, Labor Day, marks our annual celebration of the social and economic achievements of American workers. The first Labor Day holiday was celebrated in 1882, in New York City, and it became a national holiday in 1894. I usually don’t think about labor unions that much anymore. When I worked in human resources it was a subject that I thought about all the time and was a heated topic in many meetings. Long, tedious meetings. Invariably the discussions centered around how to keep the unions out of banking. But I’ve been giving unions a bit more thought lately, as I believe we are at a turning point in terms of how we view work and labor.

Shirtwaist workers

One of the reasons I’ve given unions some thought is I’ve been updating my wardrobe and have paid attention to the labels. Nothing I bought was made in the U.S. In fact, my clothes have been more places than I have: Indonesia, Vietnam, and Peru just to name a few. I realize this is not a new issue but find it sad that it’s really hard to find clothing made in the U. S. I am old enough to remember when we were advised to “look for the union label”, by the International Ladies’ Garment Workers Union. In part, that union was formed as a result of a fire in 1911 in New York. The fire—likely sparked by a discarded cigarette—started on the eighth floor of the Triangle Waist Company, a manufacturer of women’s shirtwaists (blouses). The flames, fed by cotton filaments and tissue paper waste, quickly spread upward to the top two floors of the building, but in those days the fire truck ladders were only able to reach six stories. Many workers, trapped by doors that had been locked to prevent theft, leapt from windows to their deaths. Some were able to reach the fire escape, but it soon became so overloaded that it collapsed, killing those who were on it. The tragedy galvanized the city government to enact health and safety laws and helped shape future labor laws across the country. On the other hand, the owners of the Triangle Shirtwaist Company were indicted for manslaughter but were eventually exonerated. To add salt to the wound – they later profited from inflated insurance claims related to the fire damage. As I looked at the labels of the clothes I just purchased, I wondered about the working conditions where they were made. My fear is that the seamstresses may be no better off than the Triangle Shirtwaist workers 114 years ago.

The other reason I’ve been thinking about unions is the rapid advance of AI. Bill Gates in a recent interview said AI is moving at a speed that “surprises” even him, stating that AI will take over most jobs. We have already seen a major strike – by the SAG/AFTRA unions in 2023- whose complaint was not simply the usual request for more money, increased benefits and worker safety, but centered around protection from AI-generated images, writing and voice-overs. AI is evolving so quickly that 2023 seems like the stone age. According to numerous sources, the AI programmers can’t even keep up with it. In May it was reported that one of the OpenAI models disobeyed direct instructions to turn off and even sabotaged shutdown mechanisms in order to keep working. ChatGPT has experienced the same phenomenon: models will occasionally sabotage a shutdown mechanism, even when instructed to “allow yourself to be shut down”. In addition to the downright scary implications of these “disobedient” models, is the very real impact they are having on jobs. Last week the Wall Street Journal ran two articles in one day about this issue. Already workers in fields as diverse as software engineering, voice acting and graphic design are reportedly being replaced. I witnessed a real example of this when our grandson graduated from college. There was a large contingent of international students, so afterwards I remarked to our grandson how impressed I was that the person announcing the graduates could get the names right. He informed me that it wasn’t a human announcer – right before entering the stage each graduate said their name into a computer, and an AI model announced their entrance.

I worry about the future of work and what it will look like. Many entry- level white-collar jobs are already in jeopardy. Ironically, the workers we honor on Labor Day, the union workers using their hands and back and brains, should remain plentiful in the near future. At least until they can program a robot to weld a seam or unplug a toilet. I hope I won’t live long enough to see that.