I don't know about you, but...

…my mailboxes – electronic and snail mail, both inbox and outbox – are not as full as they used to be and I’m not sure what that means.

…I find most of the choices for entertainment, escape, and education on the growing number of network channels more disturbing than intriguing.

…if I start falling asleep in the chair, somehow, by the time I get to bed I am wide awake.

…I am scared that the parts of myself I do not like will become more dominant as I age and no one will admonish me for them.

…as much as I believe in our democracy, something is broken and I don’t know what it is going to take to fix it because we cannot legislate common sense, kindness, or grace.

…despite decades of progress there are more we/they divisions in our country than when we were marching for rights decades ago.

…a turtleneck feels different in October than in March.

…there is always one place in my house or office that, no matter how hard I try, is always cluttered.

…I enjoy seeing license plates from other places and if someone else is around, I point them out.

…it’s good to be back!

Marilyn

 

 

 

 

 

When the words don't come

Whether it’s what to write on a condolence card or a five letter word for ‘fracas’ to complete a crossword puzzle, we all occasionally struggle to find the right word. Stressful times impede the mental search for that illusive phrase that would be a great response.  Aging contributes to that ‘now what was his name? I can picture his face…’ memory game.  When we realize we are playing that game more and more, we worry about what that might mean.

Our commercial, fast paced, and electronic society shorthand us out of the connections made through thoughtful wording. Often my illegible handwritten missives begin with ‘Just a note to say…’ which automatically define them as brief. A reply feature makes it easy in our emails and texts to share LOL and J or L feelings. We peruse the greeting card aisle for just the right picture on the outside and tone on the inside, and often pay a little more to not have to write anything except our name because the card says it better than we could. We let others ‘speak’ for us and I fear we are losing the subtleties of well-crafted sentences.

I’m told that my mother’s father was a great letter writer and his notes often included poems appropriate to the recipient. I have only a few examples. But who’s got the time these days when it is much easier to post something on Facebook, a blog, or a tweet? Well, if the thoughts don’t flow, or a particular sentence doesn’t come together, or the right words don’t come, it doesn’t matter what the method of communication.

It amazes me that each week something strikes me as an idea for a musing; it’s a rare week when the concept just isn’t there. More common is the struggle to put one sensible word after another and to find the proper spin that reflects what I want to say. But as long as ideas come along I’ll keep encouraging my brain to strain for that right word, except for the next month or so. Apologies to those who have indicated they look forward to the Monday musing notice in their inbox, but I’m taking a short break. I will resume musing in October and look forward to hearing from you in the interim. And, should you face an instance where the right word is on the tip of your tongue, remember the words of Mark Twain who said, “The right word may be effective, but no word was ever as effective as a rightly timed pause.”

Marilyn

Taking a Break

Most of us are taking a break from our labors, or at least from our routines. Today is a holiday, a word derived from the Old English word hāligdæg, meaning holy day.

Throughout the world there are holy days, days that are set aside for religious purposes. Whether it be a solstice, Ramadan, Yom Kippur, or Easter, there are centuries of traditions that are honored. Countries often formalize a holy day, such as Christmas, by making them also a legal holiday. Most countries have other mandated holidays, such as today in the U.S., that have been incorporated into their culture for a variety of reasons, usually politically motivated.

In our country we have holidays while in others, people go on one. Whatever the language, today we stop our hunting and gathering to rest. To celebrate the dignity of all work and give thanks for the opportunity to provide for ourselves and our family. To thank those who must labor today and while we hope the firefighters, police, and emergency medical staff will not be needed, we fear they will be. We think of those who are without meaningful work or any income-generating work at all, and those who are under- or over-employed.

Whatever phase of life you are in now, muse on Pearl Buck’s words, “to find joy in work is to discover the fountain of youth.” And, as you go about your holiday, take a moment throughout the day to offer a thank you for what you are enjoying. To the inventor of that grill. To the farmer. To those who made the meal. Think of a funny story related to your work and share it around the table. Lift a glass and give thanks for those in your life who labor for you and to those who paid you for your labor. Work, whether paid or volunteer, helps make and define a community, so, finally, toast yourself for all of the labor you have done on behalf of others and, recognize that you do deserve a day of rest. Tomorrow’s work will come soon enough.

Marilyn

Ice Cream Socials

Creating ‘just because’ moments around the office is part of my job, so last week we had a surprise ice cream social. Colleagues gathered for about 20 minutes and enjoyed the sundae they had made, a popsicle, or a cone. I kept the ice cream choices fairly basic – vanilla, chocolate, neopolitan, and cookie dough – and the toppings traditional.

That fun afternoon break reminded me of past ice cream moments. When I was a kid, a friend and I could walk to the corner store where Skippy cups (a small cardboard bowl of ice cream with a wooden spoon affixed to the bottom) and popsicles (2 sticks) were 5¢. Grape and root beer were my favorites. Fudgesicles (chocolate) and dreamsicles (an orange sherbet and vanilla ice cream mixture) were 8¢.

When my mother and I would get dressed up to go shopping in downtown Buffalo we would stop at the W.T. Grant’s counter for a BLT and an ice cream soda. By junior high school there was a group of us that would visit walk from house to house after Christmas to look at each other’s presents and end up at Howard Johnson for marshmallow sundaes (chocolate ice cream with marshmallow sauce). My parents once hosted an ice cream social for the church’s youth group and 25 teens filled the house and yard before we played croquet.

I remember when ice milk was introduced, a product with not as many calories as the real thing. It was ok. Then more exotic flavors started appearing and one of my family’s favorite was butter brickle, rich ice cream with small chunks of chewy brittle. Now we’ve got exotic flavors and a TV show where people compete for prizes by making ice cream with strange ingredients. As talented as my mother was in the kitchen, homemade ice cream was something she never tried.

Several years ago on a vacation in Cancun, we met a family from Western New York. Somehow the conversation got around to ice cream and I mentioned that we used to go to the small town of Alden to a shop that had the best and most unusual flavors of ice cream. It was a real treat – the Sunday afternoon drive kind of treat – when we would head that way for black raspberry or cantaloupe. They told me it was still there and still the best.

In these dog days of summer somehow musing about ice cream seems appropriate but, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a Skinny Cow in the freezer calling my name so it’s time to stop writing. Wish you could join me to share your ice cream memories as we see who can make theirs last the longest!

Marilyn

Secrets

“Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets.”  Paul Tournier, Swiss author

We were reminded this week that, even in this modern communication age of exposure, everyone has secrets. That those who share some may harbor others.  What we need to be reminded of is that everyone – even those who live part of their life in the public eye – has a right to keep them.

As a people, we are challenged to find and honor the balance between what needs to be known and what can and should remain private unless the people involved choose to share. Investigative reporters have their role, and what they uncover can provide critical information to voters, shareholders, administrators, and neighbors. The recent 40^th anniversary of Watergate highlighted how that event ushered in a new age of scrutiny for politicians. Gone were the days of insiders looking the other way, of certain ‘secrets’ being common knowledge on the Beltway but not in Peoria, to the extent that I’m amazed anyone wants to go into public service and give up any sense of privacy.

Some secrets, when shared, have helped me understand a situation or a person better. I came to respect and so appreciate the trust exhibited by the sharer and hope that my reaction was appropriate, for I’ve known the sense of relief when we do let our guard down and are still embraced in friendship and love.

Early on we learn that secrets are one of the in/out aspects of group dynamics. We want to be included, to not be the last to know. Later we learn that secrets come with a burden. Many I wish I did not know. I believe some relationships have faded because TMI (too much information) was shared and the other felt too vulnerable.

Saturday night I watched the first episode of the British show Sherlock. The writer(s) of the script made the main character’s observations and conclusions so logical and intriguing but also made me realize how many of what we think are secrets are actually quite visible if someone really looks. When I pass you on the street I cannot tell if you’ve just come from a tryst or your therapy session. I don’t know if you’ve ever climbed Mt. Everest or been the victim of an assault, if you play croquet or are a whiz in the kitchen, if you are diabetic or hit your spouse.  But unlike Sherlock who puts clues and facts together, I simply make assumptions, and human nature being what it is, I also judge.

That being said, everything I want to know about Robin Williams has been shared in moving tributes this week, tributes that gave examples how his bigger than life persona touched lives in very personal ways around the globe. I want all he wanted to remain private to do so and to continue to celebrate what he chose to share. That includes his talent, his heart, parts of his soul, and yes, even some secrets.

Marilyn

L'chaim

To life. Wishing you good health and well-being.

This word became part of pop culture in the 1960s because of the song from Fiddler on the Roof. The tune and the words were one of my last thoughts Saturday night after seeing the Light Opera Work’s delightful production. Sunday morning I started musing about toasts.  We clink glasses on New Year’s Eve and listen as the best man honors the bride and groom. We say ‘slainte’ or ‘cheers’ at other celebrations to share more than just the drink, so, I thought, why not a virtual toast on a Monday morning with our coffee or tea? Here’s to my friend(s) who:

• Celebrate their 50^th anniversary this week – may the best of your yesterdays be the worst of your tomorrows.
• Accepted a new job – you go, girl!
• Struggle with aging – do not resist growing old, many are denied the privilege.
• Face a major decision – sleep on it, then go with your gut and ignore everything else.
• Grieve – to live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.
• Are disappointed or need encouragement – may an unexpected window open soon.
• Feel alone or lonely – become a rainbow in someone else’s cloud.
• If nothing above speaks to you then lift your mug in a salute that will set your day off with a smile. 

Finally, according to Wikipedia, the members of the British Royal Navy toast something very specific each day at their Noon meal. Their Monday toast is for ships at sea, quite fitting for my family since my brother served in the Navy. To all those deployed around the world – fair winds and following seas, and, for today, l’chaim!

Marilyn

Is your refrigerator running?

Perhaps you remember the crank phone calls that kids made, sometimes at random and sometimes to targeted friends or enemies.  When the person answered, the caller might ask, “Is your refrigerator running?” When the response was, “yes” the giggling kids would say, “then you’d better go run after it!” and hang up.

Those calls actually had an impish innocence about them, but, as the communications industry aged, so did we users and so did the pranks. Heavy breathing, middle of the night annoyance calls became concerns. Forty years ago someone played the ‘guess who this is’ game and I was naïve enough to fall for it. He sounded like a friend from college. We had maybe a 10 minute conversation before the light dawned on me. Phone companies developed ways to trace calls in much more complicated means than what’s available today. The introduction of answering machines and caller ID helped eliminate the petty callers.

Now we’ve got robocalls and sophisticated scam ‘artists’ and stalkers. A friend was the recipient of the “we’ve-just-discovered-you-owe-some-back-taxes-and-we-need-to-quickly-clear-this-up-so-give-me-your-credit-card” call. While I was driving home the other day my cellphone rang, so I pressed the Bluetooth button on the steering wheel and said ‘hello.’ A man said he was calling from Microsoft because of all the error messages they were receiving from my computer. Some of us are not so trusting anymore and after a couple of unsatisfactory answers to my questions, I hung up.

In both of those cases – back taxes and we need to fix your computer – the topics are compelling and the presentation could sound feasible. Some people will fall for it and that makes me angry and sad. In both cases the callers had an accent. That perpetuates stereotypes and makes me even madder and sadder.

The fact that people deliberately figure out ways to take advantage of a person’s fears and trust is a reminder that there is evil in the world and that it comes in many forms. These callers are no different from bullies, elected officials who refuse to work for the common good, or rebels who shoot down airplanes and abduct children. These perpetrators’ actions rise from similar motivators, be it greed, anger, hatred, fear, revenge, or insecurity.

Things were much simpler in the rotary dial days when hoaxes were calls like, “Are the walls there?”

“No, I’m sorry you must have the wrong number. There are no ‘Walls’ here.”

“Then what’s holding up your roof?!”

I hope the beginning and joke above made you smile and that in between you were reminded of the need to balance faith with caution. But I also hope that like me, you believe the good will overcome the evil.

Marilyn