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Demo Memo: Almost a third of nation's eligible workers idle by labor accounts

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Seems like a lot of folks got their big break or are banking on a lucky streak

Or is the inactivity among America's unemployed something we've been expecting?

More than 87 million Americans aged 16 or older did not work in 2014, nor did they look for work—17 million more than in 2004. Nonworkers grew from 31 to 35 percent of the adult population during those years. What's behind the increase? A big factor is the baby-boom generation, which is inflating the number of retirees. The Bureau of Labor Statistics calls this the "age effect." Here are the four types of nonworking adults...

Slacker?: Hey Don't Look at Me! I put my time in at the Patent Office.

  • The number of adults not in the labor force because they are retired climbed from 31 million to 39 million between 2004 and 2014. Most are aged 65 or older.
  • The number of adults not in the labor force because they are ill or disabled climbed from 12  million to 16 million between 2004 and 2014. Most are aged 55 or older, but a substantial 45 percent are aged 25 to 54.
  • The number of adults not in the labor force because they are in school climbed from 11 million to 16 million between 2004 and 2014. Most are aged 16 to 24.
  • The number of adults not in the labor force because they are caring for home and family was 13.5 million in 2014, the same as in 2004. Two out of three are women aged 25 to 54.

Source: Bureau of Labor Statistics, People Who Are Not In the Labor Force: Why Aren't They Working?

From Demo Memo by Cheryl Russell  http://demomemo.blogspot.com/

Russell is a demographer and the editorial director of New Strategist Publications. She is the former editor-in-chief of American Demographics magazine (then located in Ithaca) and The Boomer Report. She is the author of Bet You Didn't Know and other books on demographic trends. She holds a master's degree in sociology/demography from Cornell University.

Last Updated on Tuesday, 05 January 2016 19:54
 

Reserved for Peter Potenza, always

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FOREVER POTENZA: Bollywood star Priya Gopal poses with the sign made for Peter Potenza, which guarded his parking space at Castaways on Taughannock Blvd., until his death in August. Priya dressed down in Pete's honor and wore no make-up in mournful respect. The star rarely avails herself to the public without chic cosmetics and couture. She is now on tour with Lady Gaga.

Tiny Town, USA – Peter Potenza will no longer announce his presence with a door swinging open, a pause, then a shadow and the clacking of his metal cane -- a signature sound he hated but endured -- then that wizened head, the nearly crippled body and a mind full of keen observation, dark humor and a raspy voice like an oyster shell getting shucked, and a tongue as sharp as the blade. A god had just entered the room, a philosopher king, somebody who, once known, could not be forgotten. Peter died Aug. 9, 2010. 

Memory: Peter, of advanced but eternal age, was making goo-goo eyes at one or another waitress or barrista in a local watering hole when a fire alarm sounded. The staff was worried. There wasn't a fire, but naturally everyone was obliged to leave. What to do with Peter? Best thing was to just keep an eye on him.

By the time Peter hobbled to the doorway -- a long hobble for sure -- the all-clear was given by the fire chief. Just then, I walked into the lobby. Having seen the fire trucks I wondered if Peter was in the place and doing just that, struggling to get out.

There he was in the entrance way, exhausted, half pissed-off yet amused by the irony of it. He greeted me in his usual manner, which was kindly and cutting at once. 

He had a long trip back to the bar so I offered Peter, who eschewed wheelchairs, a free ride on a baggage cart. He agreed although staff of the joint, a local chain hotel operation, wondered if it violated some Byzantine safety code corporate had dreamt up for the place every other week or so.

"Fuck im," Peter said, and he meant corporate, not staff. And I wheeled him, quite happily, back to his throne at the "lounge" on the baggage cart. The soft parade was greeted with laughter and applause.

That was one of the last times I saw Peter as my habits changed and with that change my attendance at bars and such dropped to nil. Not feeling comfortable with looking up Peter in his place downtown, there was always the hope I'd find him in between, on the streets, where I could get some straight dope about life that he dispensed like no other. His knowledge of the city was vast and he kept track of people, businesses and their ups and downs.

He was no friend to City Hall, or phonies of any stripe, and yet I can't imagine anyone that knew him later in his pugnacious life to have a bad thing to say about him. 

Peter was a horny old goat and let women know it. His charm won the day and he was loved by many lovelies. To the politically correct it was va fungool and a rude hand gesture. 

That people cared so much for him was a reflection of how much he cared for people. Not generally. Individually, personally. When a common acquaintance got himself in trouble with the law, Peter helped him to find work and to get from place to place. Or, if he couldn't find him, looked over his glasses at you and you knew it wasn't good. It wasn't a judgment, just a fact. 

He liked Sambuca and a small cup of coffee, black.

Or a glass of wotthehell kinda wine. He ate whatever he was served and usually complained about it -- without having to say a word, just a look. You might ask, anyway, "How was it?"

"Awful," he'd say, wiping his lower lip with a napkin. "The cook is new and doesn't know what he's doing."

But if the bartender asked how Pete liked his meal, he'd say something positive.

When the Sambuca ran out at the place where we often met, he got to blaming me. That was true then. But there's plenty to go around now, Pete.

So, a toast with the beverage of your choice for the old guy: Peter Potenza, our friend.

If this tribute took a while to get to print, that's because we estimated it would take Peter about this long to get his ass up all those stairs to heaven. We just hope that when he got there, he wasn't told to go back. If so, well. We'd be happy beyond measure to have him with us again. 

– Franklin Crawford, administrator, tinytowntimes.com

Last Updated on Thursday, 02 September 2010 20:51
 

Let the Tiny Town Tattoo Tally Begin!

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Tiny Town, USA – From the outset, Tiny Town Times has promised to post a Tattoo Tally.

It took a little more footwork than expected.

There were the usual setbacks: rabid dogs, freak weather incidents, sniper fire ... but we got through it, dammit, we got through it -- with more than a little help from the folks at Stiehl's Body Modification Shop (607) 256-7175.

They've been around since 1977 -- that's a lot of piercings and tats ago, me buckos. 

Or visit http://www.stiehlsbodymod.com/

Here are a couple of their contributions of recent vintage:

The top image, "Cook Free," is by Jim Sidelinger (left, below); the image below it, "Mellow Moon", created by Scott Carlton (right, below).

Thanks, guys. Nice work.

 

Last Updated on Thursday, 12 November 2009 22:14
 

Tiny Town Blues Nov. 9

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Dim lights Embed Embed this video on your site

Last Updated on Tuesday, 10 November 2009 17:34
 

Otherwise Normal Person Goes Native, gets Tattoo, is Thrilled

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aggie tat

aggie tat

TINY TOWN, USA –– A rose is a rose is a rose –– unless, that is, it happens to be your first-ever tattoo. Agnes "Aggie" Binger,  a highly sensible and responsible office manager from the tiny satellite of Freeville, joined the world of the pigmentationally-enhanced Friday evening, to rave reviews from family and friends.

Ms. Binger, better known for herding wayward office staff and balancing budgets, chose a single red rose, placed subtly on her right shoulder blade. "I've always loved roses,"  said Ms. Binger, who was accompanied by her husband, Bill.

The tat was sketched, inked and applied by artist Scott, a tall and amiable fellow at Stiehl's on S. Cayuga St. The Tattooist approved of Ms. Binger's selection and later raved about her skin, which apparently accepts assault by needles and ink with exceptional grace. "I hope you come back for more," he told her.

Husband Bill, whose body is a tattoo-free zone, declined comment.

Ms. Binger reported that the process induced burning and pricking sensations, but overall was "not too bad" she said, "I'm glad I just got a small one."

The evening ended on the upbeat. "I really like it," she said.

–– Photos and text by L.D. Zini, TTT.com correspondent

 

 

Last Updated on Monday, 20 July 2009 12:35
 


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