Category: Uncategorized

Miss Manners, Where Are You?

Image courtesy Datelinenews.org

I’ve been noodling around with this piece for over a week, haggling with myself over what angle to take, when Providence (not R.I.) pummeled me with the story of the kids right here in Greece, NY who relentlessly, savagely, and ruthlessly bullied their school bus monitor, 68 year old Karen Klein. Captured on video by one of their gang, these kids were 7th and 8th graders – old enough to know better, old enough to have been taught some manner by their parents, and old enough to bear significant consequences for their actions. Parents? I heard a report, though I cannot find the source, that one  parent thought the whole thing was blown out of proportion.  Are you kidding me??? This morning on Today, Matt Lauer said he wished he could say the names of these bullies right there on national television, which, of course, is not (unfortunately) possible.

In my early-week noodles, I wrote this:  “Okay, I admit it. I’m of the older (and wiser) generation dubbed Baby Boomer. I am proud to wear the label thusly. I am especially proud because I grew up in an age where manners and gracious behavior were taught, practiced and observed with MUCH more frequency than they seem to be today.”

What I really wanted to say when I wrote that was that kids today have neither the manners nor respect that any infractions thereof in “ancient” (our) time would have resulted in dire consequences. But see, I didn’t write this because I felt like an old judgmental frump, worried about losing my clout of voice amid a mass of poorly mannered young boobs.

Okay. The fact is that not every kid bullies or has poor manners. Many are socially adept, respectful, and comparatively mature. Kudos to you kids, and may you be on thresholds of great success. Perhaps the issue is that the poor mannered ones are louder and more evident that their gracious counterparts. On the other hand, and sadly, perhaps there are just indeed more of them.

So when every news medium in the country blasted this story, and when a global collection to send Mrs. Klein on a “little” vacation reached over $100,000 in a single day (it’s not over $200,000), I knew I had my angle all along: manners are a dying breed, outrageous behavior (bullying and unspeakable rudeness) is alive and thriving. I also knew that beau coup people of all ages are sick and tired of a generation that simply doesn’t give a rats ass about inflicting pain on other people. I knew, therefore, I am not alone.

A Short Note To Madonna Badger

Dear  Madonna,

I see you’re in the news again. I’ve thought about you with a heavy, heavy heart many times over these past months. Back in late December, I could not get my mind off what I knew were the depths of darkness and unfathomable agony that must have tortured you with every breath you took.

It is good, this thing you’re doing, suing the officials in Stamford. With the horror of your family’s loss, I never thought about this additional nightmare, this further violation, this unauthorized devastation of whatever of your possessions from Shippan Avenue were left in the charred rubble. Hopefully this action will give some vent to your pain as well as reassert the rights that were stripped from you, as was everything else you owned and loved.

I hear you are gone from Stamford, the area that can do nothing but bring you pain with every view, every encounter, and every cloud in the once-blue sky. It was everything once safe and familiar. But that which was safe was nothing but a sham and everything familiar became unbearably monstrous. I hope you are somewhere very different from Stamford: different climate, different geography, maybe even different hemisphere.

As a woman, as a mother, I embrace you, as do countless others who have never met or even seen you beyond the photos in the media. Wherever it is you are, I pray you are being comforted with strong and caring hands and hearts.

In the meantime, know that thousands of us are here with hearts that ache and souls that only wish they could put back the pieces and turn back the hands of time.

With love,
From All of Us

About Writing and Louis L’Amour

For years, with imperious and quite faux intellectualism, I by-passed the shelves in libraries and bookstores that homed the Western genre. The books on those shelves were akin to the ones packing the Harlequin romance shelves, or so I presumed as I marched by, head held high, to more scholarly selections, until …

One name, one author, in particular began to intrigue me: Louis L’Amour. I was struck, and initially turned off, by the number of books on the shelves by this author. I figured they were all about cowboys and Indians, the written versions of Apache Rifles or Bullet for a Badman. Well, they’re not.

Here’s the short version of how I became acquainted with Mr. L’Amour. First, I always read when I’m at the gym. I have a routine – first thing is to retrieve the book holder, second thing is to mount my machine, and third is to get in gear, start swinging along while reading. This has initiated various conversations relating to ‘what are you reading,” and such. In one of these conversations, a gent mentioned  Mr. L’Amour was one of his favorite authors. By the caliber of his other favorite authors, I began to wonder if my previous assumptions were off. Then  I was discussing books with someone in my online book club, and she too mentioned L’Amour as a very good author, naming two or three specific favorite titles. Wasting no time, I got on Amazon and ordered those titles.

They came, I saw, they conquered!

Louis L’Amour is a compelling writer with numerous passages of profundity about life, and these below, about his craft of writing. These passages are from Fair Blows the Wind.

“You may well ask, if I know so much, why am I not writing successfully … well, I know what should be done, and I can talk well of it. But … I have not the will to persist. I tell myself I shall change, but I do not. I try to hold myself to a schedule, but I am diverted by the flights of fancy in my own mind. I dream of it, want it, talk of it, think of it, but I do not do it. Writing is a lonely business and must be forever so, and I am a social being. I want and need others around me and the loneliness of my room is a hateful thing.”

“My old master… used to say that writing was not only talent, but it was character, the character of the writer. Many are called, he would say, but few are chosen, and it is character that chooses them. In the last analysis, it is persistence that matters.”

It’s writing season for me. Always in late spring, since a girl in high school when I’d lay dreamily on my white chenille bedspread, windows wide open on steamy sultry evenings, the intoxicating scents of honeysuckle and roses bewitching me into writing truly AWFUL poetry!  Ah, though I do view that work with fondness and a certain level of respect (yes, I still have it), it was full of adjectives, superlatives, and drama, just as this passage. It also weighed heavy on the dark side, my way, I suppose, of dispelling the demons that lurked within.

But I DID IT! I wrote, just as I am now. Truth be known, I am not at all a disciplined, organized writer who sets by the day and the clock, X-number of pages punctuated by endless cups of coffee that could hold a spoon upright by the end of the “set” writing period. No, I am a write by the muse sort of writer – one who goes about the business of living until I find a thought, issue, or passion about which I simply must expound. To be honest, I do wish my Muse would stop by and visit more often, but, as they say, it is what it is.

Liberty and Justice for All

I believe in fairness. I believe in equal opportunity. I believe in working hard and making the grade. I do not believe in coddling, quotas, and ‘rewarding’ mediocre performance. Among the first wave of professional women in business, I experienced the chauvinism and prejudice that accompanied my appointment as Eastman Kodak Company’s first female photofinishing technical sales representative. I dealt with the “unfair” treatment associated with the delay in assigning me my own territory because the division manager didn’t believe women should be in this manly-man field. So what did I do? I worked. I worked hard. I worked harder than I had to because I was intent on proving myself, letting my performance speak for itself. And it did, and I finally got a territory of my own: the San Francisco Bay area.

What’s the relevance of my story? I came upon this NY Times article about the changing demographics at CUNY and I was pleased on the one hand, discouraged on the other. Let’s do the bad news first: Several years ago, CUNY raised its entrance requirements, and after several years, the Asian and white student populations have increased while the black and Hispanics have decreased.  Likewise, the average SAT scores of entering freshman are now at an average of 1200, and the overall quality of students has increased.

Is this indeed bad? There are those who think so. They think that the gains made to create diverse student populations are falling away to the detriment of the schools, ethnicities, and society as a whole. True, a “purposed” lack of diversity is an essentially evil thing. But in the CUNY case, (and now for the good side), we’re talking about students being aptly rewarded for work and performance, and subsequently, a student body rich in challenge and intellectual diversity. We’re talking about a quality education at a reasonable ($ 5430 for instate-students) price. We are talking about rewards for work and performance with an end result that is beneficial to students, institutions, and society.

Alaska Quote

End of the semester is a crazy time, but this year, things are surprisingly under control. Only a few stray assignments to read, followed by the grand finale — the 12 — 15 page papers — 30 to be exact — that will be coming in next Tuesday. In the meantime, I have taken on a new gig with tons of work and it’s all good — it’s just timing, you know?In spite of the “load,” I went riding today. It was one of those sparkly, perfectly-cool, infinite blue-sky days and it was simply not going to pass without this ass getting into the seat of saddle secured on the back of a horse — mine! We didn’t do much because Buzzy was a bit gimpy last week, and today his mistress was a bit lazy, so a few turns around the ring, and that was it.

I’ve been meaning to post this quote for weeks, so now that I’ve finished the book and it gets buried amid my ten million piles of books, today is the day. It came from James Michener’s Alaska, a 1000 + pager about which I can say I honestly enjoyed every single page.  I shall otherwise remain mum regarding details. So, here goes:

So … Life comes at you in a thousand different forms, and you better be prepared to accept it when it comes along. Because if you miss it, the years stretch out forever, bleak and lonely and meaningless.

Now I can take the sticky-marker off the page, stick the book on the shelf with all the others, and  maybe dust it at some future time to come.

Reduced Health Care Spending Because People Have No Insurance

Absolutely unbelievable:

“The growth rate mostly slowed as millions of Americans lost insurance coverage along with their jobs. Worried about job security, others may have feared taking time off work for doctor’s visits or surgical procedures, or skipped nonurgent care when money was tight. ” —

This quote is from a NY Times article titled “Hopeful Sign, Health Spending is Flattening Out” ?????

It’s hopeful that people don’t have insurance or are afraid to take time off for doc appointments for fear of losing their jobs???

All I can say is something is very wrong in a society that celebrates such a thing. But I already knew that, did you?

Madonna Badger: Please Keep Breathing

Madonna Badger’s horrific Christmas Day fire is back in the news as the contractor’s insurance company does not want to pay out for claims or lawsuits due to his company’s role in the fire. Whatever on that one, but let it be said, I am not a fan of insurance companies.

But this post is not about the insurance company. It’s about Madonna, because once again, as the fire raises its ugly head, the gun-slingers and crucifiers are out in full force, tossing about their self-aggrandizing rhetoric. Here are a few examples from The New York Post:

“If Madonna Badger or Michael Borcina had any decency in them, they would both do the right thing and commit suicide. Their greed and stupidity caused this horror, killing young kids and old people. Yet, the two of them continue to walk the earth, pretending that they are actually civilized humans.”

This one is about Madonna’s contractor-friend:

“lying, cheating, incredibly dumb freaking wop bastard should be drawn and quartered and experience a slow, painful death.”

And more:

“BOYFRIEND AND MOTHER SHOULD BOTH BE IN JAIL….”

“This guy is at best shady and criminally negligent and at worst, the most vile murderer of 3 children… that the MOTHER is sticking by this guy tells me all I need to know re where the priorities of these two were and what led up to the horrific events of that night… horrific umtimely death of yet more angels…”

“The story stinks to high heaven. I think the contractor and the wife deliberately set the fire, just didn’t expect to kill anyone. Obviously this contractor has friends in the town, thus the bulldozing of the house and destruction of the evidence within a day of the fire. No one in their right mind would take hot embers from a fire and leave them in a paper bag – in the house. The State of Connecticut needs to appoint an investigator.”

Many more comments adorn the pages of yesterday’s Post, and to be fair, many of them are in supportive.  As for the critical ones, I am not religious, but I always hold true to the story of the woman who was caught committing adultery and Jesus then said  “let he who is without sin, cast the first stone.”

Why does this story haunt me so? I’ve asked myself that a hundred times, and I am pretty sure the answer lies in that I was also a single mother bringing up young children, a single mother who dated, who tried to balance work, home, child care and nurturing, and tons of other things. I made mistakes. I made one major mistake:  I married a man who did the unthinkable, and that I will have to take with me to my dying day. I suffer with the agony of that, but I can’t even imagine Madonna, how she copes, how she lives, how she breathes.

The (evil) cancer industry exposed by medical doctors

This is a compelling and frightening essay about the cancer “industry” with “industry” as the operative word. So disgusting to think — there’s been no cure because it would not be in the economical industry of those companies involved.

The (evil) cancer industry exposed by medical doctors.

Dandelion Garden

Yep – an honest-to-goodness, cultivated, artistically displayed dandelion garden. It lit up an otherwise steely morning, with its bursting of buttery flowers. How often do we think of dandelions as flowers? Nope, we think of them as pesky and unsightly, something to be sprayed with poisons, or dug up and thrown curbside for disposal.

I dare you to go outside now and pick up a single dandelion. (Your lawn is probably bursting with them as mine is at this moment). Smell it, turn it around and look at it from all sides,  see it as something other than an annoying, ugly weed.

Instead of “stop and smell the roses” flowers that are stunning, alluring, and so aromatic that perfumes are named after them, how about, “stop and deliberate the dandelions?”

Supermarket Ettiquette

In this age of economic crisis, technological scams and frauds, and tensions among countries like never before,  there is a new peril facing humankind: the grocery cart as kamikaze weapon.

Recently, my hometown grocery store reinvented itself and instead of long, single aisles one had to navigate from beginning to end, (or turn-around mid-stream) , it cut out the shelves mid-aisle, and made new aisles that bisect the originals at a 90 degree angle. Thus — grocery store intersections! In theory, the idea seems to be customer-focused, you know, ease, convenience, and all that. In reality, these stores have morphed into playgrounds for the emotionally frustrated, angry,  irritated, depressed, bipolar, and angst-motivated teeth-gnashers.

I cannot tell you how many times I’ve been pushed, shoved, smashed into, and run over with someone in some state of heightened emotion. On the passive end of the spectrum, I’ve had to wait for, as well as steer around, some clueless clod who has no comprehension that there may be other people in this universe. In this milieu, there are no rules of the road, and thusly, no one has a clear right-of-way except those bully-ish sorts who will take advantage of any situation.

Okay, you get the picture? Let’s throw in another variable, the one that makes me frustrated, angry, irritated, depressed, bipolar, and an angst-motivated teeth-gnasher, and that is the Baby Basket Bomber, as in those ridiculously long, big, basket in back, kiddie-car in front shopping carts. These things are a caliber of weapon, driver (mother-pusher) included, that win wars!

Anyway, try meeting one of these in the grocery aisle intersection. These mothers KNOW they have power, and they love wielding it. In fact, the other day, I was at one end of an aisle, and a woman with two kids in the Baby Bomber car at the other end of the aisle came at me with eyes narrowed, shoulders bent in fast-forward position, and was that actually foam in the corners of her mouth?   I stopped and could not help staring as she barreled towards me. I made a mental noted to petition the store manager to outlaw the bloody things in the interest of keeping the rest of us innocent customers alive.

In fact, I think that thanks to this new store layout, we need courses and manuals on the Basics of Grocery Story Etiquette.