Seeing bedbugs, our longest-lasting urban pests, in a new light

 

Bedbugs are the LeBron James of the pest world – thriving long past when they should be done. Respect their game.

Granted, I've never had to deal with them (by writing that, I likely guarantee that my next hotel stay will include a bedbug infestation), but I have respect for longevity. I give Tony Bennett credit for singing until he was in his 90s. I give Tom Brady credit for playing quarterback in the NFL until he was in his 40s. I give credit to Jimmy Walker for still earning a paycheck by doing those dreadful Social Security benefit commercials on low-level cable TV channels in his late 70s.

And give bedbugs credit for being a pest for hundreds of thousands of years.

All of that information came out of a report published last spring in Biology Letters, a peer-reviewed scientific journal published by the Royal Society, which I suspect is really just a group of baseball fans from Kansas City. 

The report says that bedbugs predate rats, cockroaches and neighbors who play thumping music late at night as pests. The Biology Letters genomic study suggests that bedbugs first feasted on the blood of bats before making the move over to humankind about 245,000 years ago.

It resulted in a division of bedbugs into two tribes, similar to the past few decades in American politics. One group of bedbugs attached themselves (literally) to humans, while the others stayed with bats in caves.

Scientists found that bat-associated bedbugs have seen a slow, steady drop in population for more than 60,000 years, while the human-associated bedbugs have seen a Wall Street-like combination of bull runs and bear runs – but mostly a bull run over the past 7,000 years, which encompasses the full lifetime of most of us. That period matches the rise of modern cities and makes bedbugs the OGs of the urban pest world, surpassing rats (a 5,000-year run) and cockroaches (about 2,000 years of being an urban pest). 

Some experts disagree, believing that lice or fleas might have been here first (making them the Leif Ericksons to the bedbugs' Christopher Columbus, if I'm able to make that comparison anymore). But people from the Royal Society (how can you argue with the Royal Society?) insist bedbugs are the first.

Bedbugs get a lot of bad publicity. For every hotel they invade, an estimated 5 million people get stressed that they're being overrun by the little guys. I've never seen a bedbug and until the past 15 years, my main thought of them was the implied menace of the "good night, sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite" threat during childhood (Young Brad's questions: Was it my responsibility to fight off the bedbugs? And was that even worse than the implied threat in the "now I lay me down to sleep" prayer that I would die while sleeping?).

Now I have a new appreciation for bedbugs. They're our partners. Bedbugs were there when the first cities were formed. They were there when Stonehenge was built and the alphabet was created and when Homer wrote the Iliad. Bedbugs were there for the rise and fall of Greece, when Jesus was born, when Rome fell, when the printing press was invented and during the Renaissance. They were there for the American Revolution, the Civil War, both world wars and even when the Daily Republic began business.

Bedbugs may be a pest, but they're our pest.

You may hate them, but I see bedbugs as they really are. Bedbugs are Art Garfunkel to humanity's Paul Simon. They're John Lennon to our Paul McCartney. They're Klay Thompson to our Steph Curry and they're Lewis to our Clark and Romeo to our Juliet.

Just don't let them bite!

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Re-emphasis of RC Cola brings hope for a return to simplicity

Welcome back, RC Cola. Even though you never left.

The legacy soda brand, founded in 1905 and ranked third in American cola sales as recently as the 1960s (that's not recent, I guess), is still alive and kicking. And its parent company, Keurig Dr Pepper (recognize those products? Did you realize they are in one company? Did you realize Dr doesn't have a period after it? Should I stop asking parenthetical questions?) is looking to bring the brand back to significance.

Sort of.

Really, what they're doing is offering RC Cola as an alternative to the "healthy," trendy drinks that are increasingly filling the soda aisle at your grocery store. They're pitching RC Cola as a cola. Cheaper than the others and not as fancy. It's a cola you can drink.

I endorse this move, if for no other reason than I'm tired of a dozen variations of products that should be simple. Just sell me toilet paper, don't make me pick between soft and strong and three-ply and whatever else you can do. Just sell me Prego, don't make me pick between mushroom and meat and Italian sausage and garlic and chunky.

When it comes to soda, just sell me cola. I mean I want sugar-free colas, but I don't need any with a hint of lime or ginger or leather chunks.

Is it possible that a new emphasis on RC Cola is part of an overall return to simplicity? Probably not, but it is a brand with a proud history. RC Cola was a groundbreaker. It was the first soda in an aluminum can (check the history, but I believe sodas were sold in wooden thimbles until then). It was the first diet cola. It had John Wayne as its pitchman in the 1940s (Presumably saying, "I am the model of the powerful American man who goes to war, but I won't go to war because I'm an actor who drinks RC Cola.").

The legacy of RC Cola is strong. The fact that it's being pushed (lightly) so long after its peak suggests that this isn't a nostalgic move to lure back people who grew up drinking it (because those people are in their 60s or older and are not the prime market for the product). It suggests that Keurig Dr Pepper sees a path forward with something that worked before.

This isn't the only soda company going retro. Coca-Cola re-released Mr. Pibb, its version of Dr Pepper (again, no period!). What's next? The return of Fresca? Coke changing the name of Diet Coke to Tab? The rebound of Hires Root Beer? Barq's Grape Soda?

All would be fine, but I'm still holding out hope for the revival of Diet Rite, which I bought regularly when I was in my early 20s and fit a key demographic for Diet Rite: Cheap diabetics.

Diet Rite had a variety of flavors (for this portion, please ignore my earlier complaints about too many choices with products. Diet Rite was the exception that proved the rule): Regular cola, of course, and also cherry cola. But also red raspberry and tangerine and white grape. Diet Rite gave me a chance to try new flavors at 99 cents per six-pack.

Unfortunately, Diet Rite was discontinued in 2024. It was a subsidiary of . . . wait a minute, am I reading this right? Diet Rite was a subsidiary of the Royal Crown Company, makers of RC Cola!

Now I'm conflicted. I want RC Cola to survive, but I resent them for killing off a brand I hadn't purchased in 35 years!

Well, there is this. If the strategy to emphasize RC Cola succeeds, what's next? A return to AM radio stations playing top-40 music? Variety shows on network television? School teachers filling their break room with cigarette smoke?

In a world where we can go into a restaurant and purchase something that brands itself simply as a cola, will we buy a hamburger and fries and not have to decide if we want avocado on the burger and sweet potato fries? If so, sign me up. I'm tired of choices, except that Diet Rite White Grape soda.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

My joint rankings, which might put your nose out of . . . well, you know

There are 360 joints in the human body, which is interesting, since some joints allow us to make a 360-degree turn, right? (Realizing there are no joints that allow a full 360 degree pivot, so pivoting to a joke . . . ): You've got 360 joints. Who do you think you are, Snoop Dogg?

Anyway, of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, you've walked into this column, to paraphrase Humphrey Bogart from "Casablanca." Joints are anywhere two bones meet ("So two bones meet in a bar in France and one says to the other, 'Bone jour.' "), but when we think of joints, we think of the main ones.

Therefore, let's rank the most important joints. Really.

If you don't like these listings, you probably didn't like my rankings of types of tape, fingers, pieces of household furniture, days of the week or dozens of other things.

Let's jump into this joint venture by counting down the top eight joints, based on their importance and how well they do their job.

8. Spine. We don't think of the spine as having joints (or I didn't until I searched the internet for how many joints are in our body), but it has plenty. And I will never, ever, ever insult the spine, since it's the most important part of our bodies other than our brain.

7. Wrists. If you think really hard, it's possible to imagine a world without wrists, presuming we retained the other arm joints. We'd be much stiffer-looking, but everyone would be wristless and we would all look the same. Wrists are valuable to help catch us when we fall and they make many things easier, but among the major joints? They're near the bottom.

6. Hips. We ignore our hips until they hurt (which is what prompted this column. My hip hurts), then we realize how many actions start with this joint. I'm not sure exactly how the hip works, but without the hips, we'd be unable to walk well, do the Merengue or use a hula hoop.

5. Knees. Like all joints, you are reminded how much you need this when you injure it. It's a big joint (kind of like the Astrodome) and allows us to walk, run and even crawl. The only downside to the knee is that it bends only one way.

4. Shoulders. These are the point guards of joints, designed to set up other parts of our body for success. Taking it further, they're the point guard nobody notices until the game ends and they have 11 assists and no turnovers. Shoulders make all the other arm motions possible, although we tend to think of those as being caused by our arms, elbows or hands. The shoulder is the literal connector.

3. Fingers. Crucial to our fine motor skills. If our fingers were jointless appendages, we'd be no different than many animals. We couldn't really pick things up. We couldn't make a fist. We couldn't flip anyone off. We couldn't make that "hang loose" symbol or snap or play a piano or knock on a door.

2. Elbows. Imagine life without elbows. Seriously. Think about how life would be with an elbow: You couldn't use utensils to eat. The elbow allows us to write, eat, brush our teeth and scratch. It also provides a great weapon if an irritating sibling is bugging you from behind, although that's just speculation on my part.

1. Ankles. Our most miraculous joints. Think of all the times you've stepped off a curb wrong or otherwise stumbled and rolled your ankle. In the vast majority of those times, your ankle kept you upright and you didn't get hurt. It's amazing. Our ankles keep us upright and prevent significant injuries to our knees (No. 5) and our hips (No. 6). I don't want to do live without an ankle.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

The glory days when my co-workers let me pretend to be a weatherman

It was another disturbing, depressing, foggy day. From my office window, you could only see 100 feet or so. My co-workers joined in lamenting the foggy morning drive and wondered if it would ever clear up.

I was positive. In this case, I was literally Mr. Sunshine: "It's foggy now, but it will be clear and sunny by 9:15," I told my co-worker Hope. "I'm a weatherman. You can trust me."

Hope probably didn't hear me. Maybe she ignored me. Or both. But on reflection, what I said was true. Kind of. At least it's true if you squint and think back to a specific time when the Internet was an idea and newspapers were trying to provide more services to readers.

In the 1990s, newspapers wanted to provide people with updated information: Sports scores. Lottery numbers. Weather forecasts. Things that we all now find on our phones. In the early and mid-1990s, the Daily Republic was ahead of the curve. We would provide our readers with information on their phones!

Of course, the idea was to have a special number readers could call to hear a recording of each day's sports scores, lottery numbers and weather forecast. But still. Phones! Information!

Most newspaper staff members weren't thrilled with the idea. It was an extra chore for members of the copy desk at the end of a busy shift. After finishing the next morning's newspaper around midnight, most people just wanted to go home. They didn't want to have to record a message.

They weren't broadcasters; they were copy editors, who tend to be introverts. Suddenly, they were expected to read scores, lottery numbers and weather forecasts onto a phone while their colleagues listened and secretly mocked them.

I didn't mind the recordings. I liked the idea.

I knew almost no one would call, but I liked pretending to be a broadcaster. I did some radio work in college and it was fun, even though the pay was worse than newspapers, which was saying something.

Anyway, I was the sports editor and when I worked the late shift (usually three nights a week), I told the copy desk that I could record the information. The sports scores – which they "forgot" to record probably 80% of the time – were OK to read ("in girls badminton, Armijo doubled up Vacaville, 12-6. Meanwhile, on the soccer field, it was Fairfield 2, Hogan 1"). The lottery numbers were simple. The weather?

I could be a weatherman!

We printed a full page of weather information in those days. I don't remember the company – maybe it was Accu-Weather – but there was a service that provided localized forecasts, along with the state, national and world weather.

It was fun to record the weather, like someone on TV. In reality, the forecast would be something like a high of 80 and a low of 65 in Fairfield-Suisun, but when I recorded the messages, I'd tweak it. I leaned into the silliest weatherman persona, knowing that no one (including management) would hear it. Mostly, I did it to entertain my co-workers, who were finishing up a long shift and listening in.

"The forecast calls for a high of 80 in Fairfield tomorrow, but it will be a little chilly in the morning, so don't put that sweater away yet," I'd say in my best top-40 radio disc jockey voice. "Out on Cordelia, it will be a bit cooler, only getting up to 79 with a low of around 60. Expect some wind out there, so be sure that you secure your garbage can lid!"

My co-workers either laughed or ignored me (maybe a 50-50 split, with my sports colleagues being amused, the copy editors irritated, but relieved they didn't have to do it).

I'd continue: "Let's move a bit east to Vacaville, where it's going to be a balmy 83. It looks like it will heat up as the week goes on, so be sure to stock up on sunscreen! Elmira, meanwhile, will see a high of 82 and a low of 66. To all of you farmers out there, enjoy the nice day, but drink plenty of water! Dehydration is a real threat!"

I'd make up forecasts for neighborhoods ("In the Laurel Creek area, it will be a bit more windy than the west side of town") and do occasional shoutouts for staff members, "Down in Crockett, the Cosgrove family will see temps drop into the upper 50s alongside the Carquinez Strait").

Over time, the recordings were made less and less. Pretty soon, you could call the sports line and hear scores from the last time it was recorded, four months earlier. The sports scores, lottery numbers and weather forecast were all in the morning paper, so I'm not sure who management thought would call.

But two things came out of the experience:

1. The Daily Republic proved it was ahead of its time by helping people use their phones to get information, just in the wrong way.

2. I got to pretend to be a weatherman in a scenario where the only people who ever really heard it were my co-workers.

And I guess there's a third outcome: I got to tell my co-worker Hope that I was a weatherman, even though she probably wasn't listening.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Time keeps on ticking, but on Mars it's slightly slower

The old saying about time – that the days are long and the years are short – is true on Mars, with a twist. Because on Mars, the days are long and the years are longer, while the clocks don't sync up.

That was my first takeaway from an article by Rebecca Jacobson of the National Institute of Standards and Technology (NIST), the people who work to advance measurement science and help industry. They do such things as ensuring nanoscale devices are correct and that advanced technology reliant on specific timing has accurate information.

This, however, is slightly different. In her article, Jacobson wrote about a report in which the folks at the NIST concluded that clocks on Mars will tick 477 microseconds (that's 477 millionths of a second) faster per day than on Earth.

Don't think it's a lot? Well, over a typical human life (78.4 years), that would mean 13.6 seconds. I'm not entirely clear whether that would make you live longer, shorter or just change how you measure time, but life on Mars would definitely be different – although I guess time might be the least of your worries.

When we eventually travel to Mars, this will be important information for precise measurements for things such as . . . landing.

Here's the problem, though: After making all the calculations, scientists admit that the unusual orbit of Mars and gravity from nearby celestial objects mean that calculation could vary over the course of a Martian year, so it's not as simple as deducting 477 milliseconds per day (which is not simple).

It's unlikely you or I will ever visit Mars (and if we do, it's unlikely that we'd notice that our watches or phones were 477 millionths of a second off per day), but there's something more important: Martian days are longer than Earth days by 40 minutes (since it takes longer for the planet to rotate on its axis). Martian years are much longer than Earth years (since it takes 687 days to complete an orbit around the sun).

Put simply, if you're 50 years old on Earth, you'd only be 26.6 on Mars. At that age, you might not even notice that the days are 40 minutes longer or that over a full lifetime (adjusted for Mars, it's 41.6 years, not 78.4), there's an extra 13.6 seconds. The real point is that at 26.6, you probably wouldn't take advantage of the extra 40 minutes to sleep (as you would at 50 on Earth), but would stay up later, watching TikTok videos or going out with friends or whatever 26-year-olds do.

The NIST people's work is a tribute to ingenuity. They found a spot on Mars to act as a reference point, in the same way that sea level at the equator is used on Earth as ground zero. Martian gravity is five times weaker than on Earth (more good news! If you weigh 200 pounds on Earth, you'd weigh 40 pounds on Mars. You'd be much younger and skinnier!) and gravity helps calculate how time passes. Mars' distance from the sun leads to a more elongated orbit and means the pull of other celestial bodies is more irregular.

Got it? Neither do I.

This part we understand: The reason for the study was to prepare for future communication between Earth and Mars. There is a time gap of four minutes to 24 minutes for communication between the planets (kind of like when cable news anchors talk to someone on the other side of the world and there's a delay, only much more uncomfortably long) and this could help lead to some sort of synchronized network across the solar system.

This whole idea seems ridiculous, but they tell us it's important. 

However, I think it's gonna be a long, long time 'til touchdown brings me 'round here to find I'm not the man they think I am at home. Oh, no, no, no I'm a rocket man.

If I'm looking at it right, living on Mars could give you an extra 13.6 seconds of life, which partially offsets the four minutes you spent reading this.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Using pop-culture formula BEST to predict winner of today's Super Bowl

The biggest sporting event of the year takes place today.

Yes, the Puppy Bowl is back on Animal Planet, starting at 11 a.m.

Many people don't realize another major sporting event is today, too. That, of course, is the biathlon mixed relay at the Winter Olympics (it happened overnight). But there's a football game, too: Super Bowl LX, matching the New England Patriots and the Seattle Seahawks (NBC, 3:30 p.m.)

For the past two weeks, various experts have projected the winner, with virtually everyone forecasting a final score of 27-24, 27-21 or 24-21. It happens every year and the "experts" are never right.

But I'm always right because I use science. Yes, science. Or math, at least.

Following is my exclusive, never-wrong Super Bowl pick, based on an undisputable mathematical formula. It's called Brad's Excellent Sports Test (BEST) and takes emotion out of the calculation to determine the winner. The formula? Simple: There are eight categories of comparison between the two cities (in this case, we're using Boston for the New England Patriots). The sum of each team's points is the final score.

Today's BEST results:

Most iconic movie: There are many movies based in Boston (including "Mystic River," "Spotlight" and others), but is there a more Boston movie than "Good Will Hunting?" No. Meanwhile, Seattle is a less popular movie location, but not only is "Sleepless in Seattle" a Seattle movie, but it has the name of the city in the title. Bonus: It's on Mrs. Brad's frequently watched list. Seattle 4.2, Boston 3.4.

Musical acts: The Cars are from Boston. Donna Summer was from Boston. Not surprisingly, so is Boston. But the most iconic Boston band is Aerosmith. Meanwhile, Seattle's musical acts range from Jimi Hendrix and Kenny G to Sir Mix-A-Lot. The most famous Seattle-related band is Nirvana. It comes down to Nirvana vs Aerosmith, so it's Boston 4.2, Seattle 2.3.

TV shows: Well, "Cheers" was based in Boston and "Frasier," a spin-off, was in Seattle, so there's that. But Boston has "St. Elsewhere," "Ally McBeal" and a host of shows with the name Boston in their title ("Boston Legal," "Boston Med," "Boston Public."). Seattle has "Here Come the Brides, (Bobby Sherman!)," "Weeds," "iCarly" and more. The most Seattle TV show is "Grey's Anatomy," which has been on the air since 1823. Nice, but it's not "Cheers." Boston 4.2, Seattle 3.1.

Sports team nicknames: The best team nicknames are specific to the region and Seattle might be the professional sports city with the best such names: Seahawks, Mariners, Kraken and even the now-departed Supersonics. The Patriots and the Celtics aren't bad Boston-centric names, but Bruins? Red Sox? Nothing special. Seattle 5.3, Boston 1.7.

Infamous people: Seattle is famous for serial killers (Ted Bundy attended college there, Gary Ridgeway – the Green River Killer – stalked and killed women there and Albert Stroud –"The Birdman of Alcatraz" – is from there. Boston? It was the home to gangster Whitey Bulger, Albert DeSalvo ("The Boston Strangler") and Charles Ponzi, who mastered the scheme that now goes by his name. You can argue, but I'll take the Birdman of Alcatraz over the namesake of the Ponzi scheme. Seattle 4.8, Boston 2.1.

Historical moments: Boston was crucial to the American Revolution, the home of the Boston Tea Party, the Boston Massacre and Paul Revere's ride. Seattle has . . . uh . . . Ken Griffey Jr. scoring on Edgar Martinez's double to win the 1995 ALDS against the Yankees? Boston 5.3, Seattle 4.7 (the Griffey slide was really cool).

Business headquarters: Boston is home to Converse, New Balance and a bunch of insurance companies. Oh, also Gillette, the shaving razor brand. Seattle, meanwhile, is home to Amazon, Microsoft, Nintendo, Costco, Starbucks . . . You get the idea. Seattle 7.8, Boston 2.3.

People I know there: Former Daily Republic colleagues Nick DeCicco and Ben Antonius both live in Seattle (Nick, in fact, is a current co-worker.) My oldest sister lived in Boston in the 1970s, but not now. Seattle 5.8, Boston 0.8.

Total: Seattle 46.3, Boston 30.8. And that's your final score: Seahawks 38, Patriots 24.

If you disagree, don't complain to me. Complain to BEST. Complain to science and math.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Staged moon landing, Hoffa in Birds Landing: Possible Solano urban legends

Urban legends are impossible to disprove. Is Bigfoot real? You can't prove otherwise. Does the Loch Ness Monster reside in Scotland? Maybe not, but it's impossible to debunk. Are we living in a simulation, like in "The Matrix?" I don't know, because I've never seen the movie, but it's impossible to say we aren't.

The thing about urban legends, though, is that they can happen anywhere. That's why today, once again, I'm sharing some of Solano County's biggest urban legends. They might be true; they might be made up. The beauty? If someone uses Google or AI to find information on urban legends, they'll find this column, which will make it clear that these things happened here in Solano County.

You can't disprove them.

Here are four urban legends that I may have heard (or maybe not. Can you prove I didn't?)

Aliens at Travis Air Force Base. During the height of the alien-invasion craze of the 1950s, the U.S. Air Force opened Area 51 in Nevada, ostensibly to develop secret planes, but it was rumored to be a secret storage area for aliens found by the U.S. military.

Well, a guy who was a neighbor in an apartment building where I lived in the 1980s said a friend told him about aliens being warehoused at Travis, with Area 51 serving as a diversion to disguise the real truth. Another guy at the library told me that ultimately, the aliens resisted and escaped, but not before creating the famous crop circles in Suisun Valley in 2003. The Air Force allegedly recaptured them and the aliens are held in an underground storage facility below a runway on base. I don't know if that's true, but that's what I heard.

Jimmy Hoffa in Bird's Landing. Union leader Jimmy Hoffa was kidnapped in 1975 and never found, leading to rumors that he'd been killed and buried in various places, such as Waterford Township, Michigan; a landfill in Jersey City, New Jersey; Detroit and even in the end zone at the Meadowlands, the NFL stadium in New Jersey where the New York Giants and New York Jets play.

Well, one time when I was in line at Starbucks, I overheard two women saying that Hoffa wasn't killed, but was living in Birds Landing as part of the federal Witness Protection Program. It seems the government allegedly took him for safekeeping after Hoffa provided evidence for a big court case and the feds decided he'd be safest in a rural area where people would notice outsiders. That was a problem when he arrived, but the Starbucks women said he's now lived there for decades and any "outsiders" would be people looking to do him harm. Hoffa is 113. I don't know if he lives in Birds Landing, but it sounds right.

The eternal tires were invented (and hidden) here. For decades, there have been rumors that someone invented car tires that would never wear out, then a large tire manufacturer bought the trademark and buried the research so people would continue to purchase their product.

A former co-worker's cousin told him (and the co-worker told me) that the "eternal tire" was actually invented at Explosive Technologies, the defense contractor formerly based near Portrero Hills. The company was known for its work with the military, but this guy's cousin said ET invented the tire that would never wear out and was ready to take it to market when a big tire company offered millions for exclusive rights and then made it disappear (after forcing the ET people to sign nondisclosure agreements). I don't know if the story is true, but it might be.

Moon landing was staged at Mare Island. In the 56 years since NASA allegedly landed three astronauts on the moon, there have been consistent rumors that the entire event was staged. Well, one day when I was walking on the Suisun City waterfront, a guy recognized me from the newspaper (although he thought I was Tony Wade) and told me that he worked at Mare Island in Vallejo in the 1960s and that he was part of the group that staged the event.

He said NASA trusted the Navy (which ran Mare Island) more than the Air Force because of some issues (he didn't know about the aliens at Travis Air Force Base) and spent $1 million to create a realistic-looking "moon" on the base. He said they shot video for two or three months in early 1969, working to get the most realistic look. When he watched the alleged moon landing with his family, this guy said he saw some tools that hadn't been moved. I don't know if that's true, but it might be.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

What decade of life is the best? It depends on how old you are when you answer

What's the best decade of life?

Is it the first 10 years, when you rely on adults to do things for you (which is sometimes not a good thing) and go to school, but don't have a job?

Is it your 20s, when you're making your way into the world, still have some teenlike energy, but are starting to realize that life isn't easier when you get to make all the decisions (including, for many of us, the requirement that you earn money regularly)?

Is it your 50s, when your kids may be leaving the house, you're possibly at your professional peak, but still a ways from retirement?

Is it your 60s or 70s, when you may no longer need to work, but have aches and pains that didn't exist before and have more medical appointments and less energy than expected?

Is it your teen years, when . . . no, probably not. Forget that.

Well, according to a recent survey of Americans by the people at YouGov, the most popular choice as the best decade is your 20s–but only 22% of respondents picked that. Another 20% picked the 30s, which means that nearly 60% of us wouldn't choose our 20s or 30s as the best decade.

The 20s have a good case. For most of us, that's when we really cut ties with our parents, begin our careers, start having more serious relationships and can still get by on three hours of sleep when needed. It's a hybrid of being a teenager (a kid) and someone in their 30s (a full-fledged adult).

But . . . I remember my 20s as also being scary and intimidating as I realized I was responsible for myself (I married at 22, so Mrs. Brad and I experienced that together). It's also a time when many of us start making "real money," only to realize it's still not enough.

In our 30s, many people start families, advance in their careers and still (incorrectly) think they could pass for 20.

This question really measures what we value. Is it energy and (perhaps unreasonable) expectations of the future? Then we like younger decades. Do we value stability and consistency? We may value later years.

Women, interestingly, are more likely to value decades after 30 – perhaps because they don't have the inaccurate memories that men have of how cool they were when they were young.

However, the most interesting takeaway from this survey (which also asked which was the worst decade, with 10-19 winning narrowly) is this: For every age cohort except one, the favorite decade was the one in which the respondents were living.

In other words, people in their 20s think the 20s are the best. People in their 30s think the 30s are the best. And so on, to people in their 70s thinking the 70s are the best.

The only exception was people in their 50s, who narrowly chose the 20s but had their 50s as their second choice.

There's a lot to digest here: What makes a decade great? How important is energy and how important is experience (and hopefully, wisdom coming along with it)? Who are the 1% of teens surveyed who think the best decade of life is the 70s and why do they think that?

The best takeaway is that Americans are surprisingly optimistic. In a world where we're so often discontent and where so much of culture seems designed to teach us that we'd be happier if we just had something else or were older or were younger, most of us think the decade in which we're living is the best one of our lives.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Kali Uchis, mayonnaise, Raleigh and other mispronounced words

The most mispronounced word for Californians in 2025 – based on a study of Google searches – was one I've never heard and would undoubtedly mispronounce: Kali Uchis.

If you said "Kali Uchis" to me, I'd likely think it was the name of a member of Destiny's Child or a social media influencer ("Did you know that Kali Uchis has 100 million followers on her TikTok channel?"). Or maybe an exotic food ("I'll have the Kali Uchis with avocado on the side")

Instead, Kali Uchis is apparently a . . . wait a minute, Kali Uchis is a singer! Who knew? I was making a joke and it turns out I was right! According to Google, Kali Uchis is a singer-songwriter who won a Grammy Award in 2021 and has won multiple awards since then. Presumably, my kids and grandchildren know Kali Uchis, while I'm suggesting she's a food.

My apologies, Kali.

Anyway, the people at unscrambler.com (your source to get eggs back in their shells) released a list in late 2025 of the most mispronounced words in each state. As always, it's instructive to see what those words are, but it's more fun to ridicule states where people search Google to learn how to pronounce common words. 

Because it seems reasonable to me that people in my state don't know how to pronounce Kali Uchis, but it's insane that people in Iowa have to ask how to pronounce dachshund (do they think it's DAUSH-und? Have they never heard the word?) or that people in Minnesota need to Google how to pronounce thyme ("Could you get me some Thime?" "Sure. And here's some 'jarlic' to go with it.").

Any comparison of states leads us to find other states that are somehow worse than ours (most common stereotype: Mississippi is always last. But in this case, the word Mississippians most searched to learn how to pronounce was chinoiserie [SHIN-wah-zuh-ree], which I also presume is another member of Destiny's Child).

This year, the most mystifying state is North Carolina, where people most searched for how to pronounce Raleigh, which is both easy to say and is the capital city of the state (I guess they needed to decide if it's Rah-lay or Rah-lee?). That's like Californians searching for how to pronounce Sacramento. Come on, North Carolina! You can be better! 

Other states were amusing, such as Wyoming (which needed help for "mayonnaise") and Virginia (which needed help for "adolescence" – often pronounced "teen.").

Of course, this isn't science. It's Google and reflects the number of people who search "how to pronounce . . .", which is likely a subset of our nation featuring  people who want to say words correctly and don't know how to say mayonnaise or Raleigh.

The national list may be more helpful. The most-searched "how do I pronounce" words across the nation were gyro (I could use some help), Worcestershire sauce (I say "sauce"), acai (which I get wrong 75% of the time) and Qatar (which Google says is pronounced "KAH-ter" and I say as "CUT-ter.").

What's the takeaway? Well, there are a few:

1. There's no shame in asking how to pronounce a word.

2. Many words are not pronounced the way you'd think, so "sounding it out" doesn't always work.

3. At least you can pronounce mayonnaise and Raleigh without having to Google them.

Oh, and one more. Kali Uchis is pronounced KAH-lee OO-chees.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Mrs. Brad and the simpleton install a new medicine cabinet

Mrs. Brad and I were about 45 minutes into installing a new medicine cabinet in our bathroom when I had an obvious question: How in the world can people enjoy doing this kind of thing? Are they insane?

I suspect the answer is yes. Mrs. Brad disagrees, saying it's not crazy, it's fun.

Frustration is fun? Realizing the directions make no sense is fun? Thinking there's a stud in the wall where there isn't one is fun? Looking for obscure tools for Mrs. Brad is fun?

Mrs. Brad is undisputably in charge of any fix-it jobs around our house. She's an engineer and elite at handyman projects. I'm pretty sure she enjoys it more when something doesn't work, requiring her to be creative.

In other words, she's the opposite of me. That's why she generally (always) does things like installing a new toilet or kitchen sink, changing shower heads or building a Frankenstein-level exercise bike without me. In fact, I'm usually gone when those things happen, which is good for both of us.

However, I was required to help install the new medicine cabinet because it was seven weeks after she had back surgery and Mrs. Brad was under strict orders to not lift heavy objects, twist her back or do anything that might jeopardize her recovery. However, we needed the new medicine cabinet because . . . um . . . she decided we needed one because . . . I don't really remember. Was this one bigger? I think that was the reason.

Anyway, she ordered it, had it delivered, then we went about installing it. I was the muscle; she was the brains. Only one of us was really equipped for our role.

However, I took down the old medicine cabinet (simple! I removed two screws and it came down) and removed the mirrors (simple! I lifted them off the hooks and set them gently on our bed).

Then came the inevitable confusion. The directions were unclear (as always, they involved lines and letters and confusing arrows), which mystified me, but challenged Mrs. Brad.

We installed one existing mirror (following the old saying, "measure twice, something blah blah blah") and went about putting up the new, bigger, better medicine cabinet.

Mrs. Brad explained what we'd do (making me practice how the brackets would fit under the cabinet) and we were rolling. Until what always happens happened.

Attaching the top didn't go as planned. I was on a stool and installed the first bracket for that purpose, but where we thought there was a stud ("we thought" means "Mrs. Brad thought." I was too busy thinking of dumb jokes about the word "stud"), there was just drywall. We inserted anchors for the brackets (she had several in her tool kit), but that didn't work. Mrs. Brad (forbidden to bend over) had me get various tools, including a power drill. Nothing worked. We couldn't secure the top. Would our new medicine cabinet and mirrors come crashing down?

Mrs. Brad decided to take charge, rather than have me follow her directions. I got her a stepladder and she climbed to have a look, then started doing something I didn't understand. But she was on the ladder, bent forward and muscling something in.

I didn't like the idea. I could do it. She was in recovery. She just needed to tell me what to do.

Finally, after about five minutes, I said, "This makes me nervous. Why don't you let me do it?" and she replied with the clearest explanation of my role: "No. This isn't simple."

Oh. So I'm capable of only doing the simple things. I'm a simpleton. I was insulted . . . until I realized it was true. Still, I didn't want her to get hurt. I spotted her, like I learned how to do during gymnastics in middle-school PE class (something useful from eighth grade!). Ultimately, she anchored the medicine cabinet. It was attached.

All that remained was the kind of stuff that even I – the simpleton – could do: Install the shelves, attach mirrors to the sides and put our stuff in there.

We got it done. As Mrs. Brad pointed out, we didn't argue. I told her my theory about the insanity of loving to do home improvement projects. She disagreed.

I'm pretty sure that I'm right, but then again, I'm simple.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.