Monthly Archives: May 2011

Announcement, announcement!

Memorial Day is behind us. White shoes are out of storage, and the celebratory time flanked by this holiday and the next one is upon us. Judging from the fast-rising stack of mail before us, it must be graduation season.

If you don’t mind, I’d like to share a few observations.

Observation #1:  Perhaps my son is right when he says that I am the strictest parent on the planet because, based on every graduation announcement that has come into our house over the last 10 years, my son is the only high school graduate to have addressed his own announcements. My husband and I insisted on it. While we chose not to send announcements when he graduated from college, I am always struck by how many parents address their children’s college graduation announcements, 100 percent, as best I can tell.

Observation #2:  Some people choose to ignore the graduation announcements they receive altogether, though about half send announcements when their children reach graduation age. Personally, receiving these requires a great deal of maturity and restraint on my part. But I send a gift nonetheless. Restraint is equally needed when one receives an announcement for a child one has met only once, or not at all.

Observation #3:  The generosity of those who do send best regards is overwhelming.

Observation #4:  Most graduates send thoughtful thank you notes. Others either send none at all or simply sign a form letter written and typed by their parents.

Observation #5:  A well written thank you note is worth keeping. We can almost predict a graduate’s potential success based on his or her thank you note.

When I receive a thank you note of any kind, I read it once or twice, enjoy it and then throw it away. We received one last year—for a high school graduation gift we sent—that was too good to discard. I kept it in a stack of papers I go through from time to time, just so I can re-read it. It provides heart-warming proof that young people can write thoughtfully and well. Because I like to share good writing on this blog, I’ll share it here:

“Thank you for your card and money for my graduation.  It’s a big step in my life, and I’m glad you took the time to write me a note of congratulation. I’m going to try my hardest to be the best computer engineer at Virginia Tech I can, and am thankful to know my family is close behind me, hopeful for my success. Thank you!”

Parents, I respectfully suggest that you share this with your kids. And for Pete’s sake, consider having them address their own graduation announcements. At a minimum, take a cut of the proceeds for your efforts.

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Filed under All Things Wordish, Family and Friends, Holidays, Rants and Raves

Homeless, not heartless

Last night, three of us went out with The Salvation Army to feed homeless people who congregate on grates and street corners in Washington, D.C.

This is something my husband, son and I have done off and on for years, as part of a church ministry. My son first went out when he was eight years old.

One of my fellow volunteers has written an account of the evening on his blog, so I won’t try and tell the story again; I’ll simply encourage you to read it.

Dennis is correct that, according to my husband and me, this was not a normal night on a Grate Patrol run. The two major differences were that there were fewer homeless people out (and he was right, the city had been swept in an advance of this weekend’s festivities) and that we were serving out of a small car rather than a large van. Perhaps a third difference was that, at times, we were serving in heavy rain and lightning.

Recently, I was reading the newsletter of the Georgetown Ministry Center, another organization that helps the District’s homeless. In the most recent issue, GMC’s executive director, who always provides an informed view into homelessness that few of us have, addressed the perception of homelessness. This struck me. Throughout the past few weeks, I’ve picked the piece up and read it, and re-read it, wondering how I might share it with people who have varying perceptions and views about homelessness.

I feel his perspective merits consideration:

I once heard a young woman walking down M Street say, “They have a lot of bums here.”

Bums? These bums are our failure. They are people with complicated mental illness who have no insight into their condition. They are brothers, sisters, uncles, nieces, and sons and daughters. They are people with broken brains who should no more be wandering the streets on their own than a six-year-old.

Our society needs to take responsibility for this problem for all that it is. This is the important point. Those bums are unable to take care of themselves! The laws that govern civil commitment need to be expanded to recognize that someone with an impaired reality is not making a sound judgment when choosing to live on the street and eat from a garbage can. Where it is evident that people are making really bad decisions because of a mental illness or other brain disorder, we need better legal mechanisms to step in and help redirect their lives. Those mechanisms must be sensitive and well thought out and have limits, but we need them if we are going to make an impact on homelessness in our country.

The people under bridges, through all that dirt and shaggy hair and ragged clothes, are human beings disconnected from family and home by mental illness.

-Gunther Stern

Dennis and Gunther are both correct. People arrive at homelessness via many paths. Here in the Washington area, as in other areas, a large number come from severe mental illness. There are many places in the United States where homelessness either doesn’t exist or is invisible, so the people who come from these places, when they visit Washington or other cities, react with shock, fear, denial, disgust or judgment.

Homelessness is not a problem that be solved by any one of us alone or by any single institution. At a minimum, though, we as human beings should be aware that there are other human beings who suffer from things we may never understand. But we’re all human beings.

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Two cousins

When I was little, I used to like the book Eight Cousins by Louisa May Alcott.

Today I couldn’t tell you a thing about it. I think I liked it because I had eight cousins, five from an aunt and uncle on my mother’s side and three from an aunt and uncle on my father’s side. Eight terrific cousins.

Today’s blog entry is dedicated to Lesley, the eldest cousin on my father’s side. Today is her birthday.

Lesley is a year and a half younger than I. We spent a lot of time together when we were little, especially around the holidays. Her family moved away when we were six and seven, so we saw less of each other after that. We did end up at the same university, where our attendance overlapped for a while.

Monica and Lesley

As I remembered that her birthday was approaching, I recalled so many little things about our childhood. I was the shy one, fearful of doing anything daring or talking to anyone I didn’t know or getting dirty. Lesley was the opposite. Everyone was Lesley’s new best friend. She loved to express herself in song and expressive dance.

Once, while the kids put on a show for the adults at a holiday party, Lesley took the stage (the hearth in our family room) and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, I am going to put on a magic show!” She began her first trick and then said to the audience, “Everyone, close your eyes.”

There are several stories of how Lesley’s curiosity and creativity led her to adventure. Up a ladder onto the roof when she was two. Putting Baker’s chocolate in the toaster in the middle of the night. (Haven’t we all wanted to try that?) This photo shows how Lesley’s front teeth suffered during one of her acts of daring. Oh, to have been like Lesley. Arms stretched out, Here I am, world!

My younger cousin used to look up to me. When I was allowed to wear perfume at age 14 (Love’s Fresh Lemon Body Splash, to be exact), she talked her mother into getting her a bottle of Jean Naté.

Truly, it is I who looks up to her. As grown women, Lesley’s the refined one and I’m the one talks to strangers and visits the ER after a hapless home accident.

Lesley is a gifted writer and a poet, and always has a beaming smile and an infectious laugh. She and her husband are rearing and educating five beautiful children, all of whom have their own expressions of wonder and talent.

Here’s to you, Lesley. Happy Birthday! Now go fix yourself some Baker’s chocolate.

P.S. Great outfit!

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Filed under Family and Friends, Holidays, Reading

The Versies

I’ve never met Susan, writer of the Coming East blog, but she has graciously included me in a circle of bloggers to whom she’s conferring a Versatile Blogger Award. Being that, like Susan, this is the first blogging award I’ve received, I’ll accept it proudly, once I complete four requirements. I believe, once I do this, that I’ll receive 36 new dish towels in the mail and never get Sepsis.

1. Thank the blogger who gave the award and link to his or her blog. I’d like to thank Susan . . .

2. Share seven things about yourself. Okay, seven facts about the person behind Word Nymph, which I don’t believe I’ve previously shared in the blog:

  1. During the time I was in high school drama club, I was the only person to earn all my Thespian credits without having acted in a play. Auditioned for everything, but the only role I ever got was NARRATOR.
  2. I’ve met Bill Cosby, Tiny Tim, Bill Clinton (twice), Hillary Clinton, Ken Burns, Antonin Scalia and Sandra Day O’Connor. If you count people I’ve met without their knowledge, I’d add Bonnie Raitt, John Denver and Pope John Paul II, but that would be a stretch. Because I was a lobbyist, members of Congress and candidates don’t count.
  3. I am the daughter of two musicians and have not a shred of musical talent.
  4. I make good deviled eggs.
  5. My husband and I accidentally crashed a private Hollywood party in honor of Teri Hatcher and Felicity Huffman, enjoying drinks and hors d’oeuvres, before making a quick exit—and getting the last of the swag bags.
  6. I always have to look up the spelling of hors d’oeuvres.
  7. I keep resolving to start fewer sentences with “I.” I’m not doing very well at that.

Gosh, I didn’t realize there’s so much left about which to blog. Let me know which stories you’d like me to tell.

3. Pass the award along to 15 bloggers and link to them.

In one of my blog posts, I did highlight some of my favorite bloggers, so please pardon any redundancy. And pardon me if I mentioned you then and not now. It’d be great to spotlight some I’ve come across more recently. So, resisting my tendency toward pathological compliance, I’m keeping my list short. See my Blogroll for more.

Bain Waves
Coming East (Thanks, Susan!)
The Digital Cuttlefish
Grasshopper Eyes the Potomac
Life in the Boomer Lane (a previous recipient, but I didn’t want to miss the chance to show her off)
The Naked Listener
Self Expression
The Sticky Egg
Uphill Writing

As most of these awardees are my friends, I won’t ask them to feel as though they need to pass on the award. You may remember my blog on chain letters. I wasn’t pressured to do this. I’m just so darned tickled to get a Versy. Does this mean I can add “award-winning blogger” to my CV and Twitter profile?

4. Comment on their blogs to tell them of the award. I’m working on that. Some bloggers make it easier than others.

See you at the after party?

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Filed under Movies, Television and Radio, Music, Politics, Technology and Social Media

Y’all come

We all form impressions of the places we visit, based on how we’re treated by the locals. There are many stereotypes: New Yorkers are impatient and rude. Parisians are snooty. Washingtonians are self-important blow-hards. Based on my experience, with only the fewest exceptions, these stereotypes couldn’t be further from reality.

Our nation’s capital is host to millions of tourists. The crowds can be overwhelming, for them and for us. Our grid can be confusing and our subway system can be intimidating to the unfamiliar. I try to be a gracious host by making visitors feel welcome and helping them find their way around along the streets or on the Metro. I know I’m not alone.

As we approach a big holiday weekend, I would like to share a letter to the editor that appeared in The Washington Post yesterday and remind all of us who live in tourist destinations how much visitors appreciate a little hospitality.

Mickey and Nancy Choppa of Queensbury, N.Y.,  wrote:

“We just spent a week in Washington, and its residents have renewed our faith in people. Our first trip on the Metro brought confusion, but a man approached us to ask where we wanted to go. We told him, and he directed us to the proper train. This happened frequently during the week — without our asking for help, it was offered often. Whenever we seemed at a loss, someone would ask if he or she could help.

“The icing on the cake came the day after we got home: We received a letter with a Washington return address. As we don’t know anyone there, we were curious.

“In the envelope was our luggage tag and a note saying that the writer found it on the street and thought we would like it back.

“Who does this? I called the woman, thanked her and said that she was an example of the fine residents of her fair city. Thank you, residents of Washington, for making our trip wonderful.”

This letter didn’t surprise me one bit. We really are nice people. Come see us!

Note: Last summer, Washington Post columnist John Kelly published some tips for Washington tourists to follow in order to get along better with the locals. It wasn’t penned in very welcoming tone, but if you follow even one or two, we’ll be extra extra nice.

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Filed under News, Politics, Travel

All or Nothing

Over the years, I’ve come to learn that I operate at two levels, All or Nothing.

I prefer All. All gives me the energetic mindset to pursue a goal, get a job done, live my life. Nothing? That drives me insane. I don’t relax well; it’s just not my nature. Even when I’m in a rocking chair, I’m rocking at full throttle, my mind in overdrive. Remember that I call myself word nymph, after the purple-headed wood nymph, which can flap its wings insanely fast.

Every once in a while, I get an unwelcome visit from Nothing. Sometimes, it just pounds on the door until I open it.

A few days ago, I felt a bug coming on. My approach to illness is to beat it down with a club. So I kept working, then through the weekend, I kept all of my volunteer and social commitments, as Nothing nipped at my heels. By Sunday night, Nothing had beaten me into submission.

As I lay in bed with a high fever, feeling like thousands of bees were stinging my epidermis, I worried about my Monday morning blog. But, as Nothing took over my brain, I couldn’t have cared less about the blog. By Monday, it didn’t have a chance, nor did anything else I had hoped to accomplish. I am going to be fine and am so confident of this that I have made new commitments for the latter part of this week and into the weekend. I’m giving Nothing a two-day pass; after that, it’s back from whence it came.

I have learned that I can go from zero to sixty in eight seconds. Deceleration must be forced upon me.

For now, I’ll give in to sleep. But I’ll dream of dangling participles.

See you tomorrow.

Is it “from whence it came” or just “whence it came?” “Whence” means “from where.” Wouldn’t “from whence” be redundant?

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For real

The City of Buffalo has long been the butt of jokes. Even my father, who’s from there, used to say that Buffalo came into being when “they cloned Cleveland.”

This week, there are new jokes as Buffalo—The City of Good Neighbors, The Queen City, The City of No Illusions, The Nickel City, Queen City of the Lakes, City of Light—takes on a new motto: “Buffalo For Real.”

I learned about this not from the city’s own announcement, which includes a new tourism video, but from the swell of snickers and criticisms from within Western New York and around the country. The blogosphere bubbles with mockery while Twitter tee-hees abound.

Advertising Age slammed the slogan, calling it meaningless. (But do check out their map of the most absurd city slogans in the United States.) Buffalonians don’t appear to be crazy about it either, but they’ve been quick to come to the defense of their city, as they are often called to do, pointing to the depth of Buffalo’s history and culture. One commenter suggested “Buffalo: Leave for the weather, come back for everything else.” Commenters from other cities were cruel (“Denver: at least it’s not Buffalo”), while others were happy to be out of the spotlight for their own cities’ inane slogans.

But back to Buffalo For Real. If the city’s marketeers had consulted me, I’d have suggested some punctuation. Mabye a comma or a colon following Buffalo. On the surface, “Buffalo For Real” does sound a little meaningless. But if you look at the campaign, there’s a broader theme: Buffalo for art, Buffalo for architecture, Buffalo for families, Buffalo for food, for nature, for history, for shopping, for sports, for performing arts. The tourism video addresses the “real” part. The narration holds the city’s past troubles and blemishes up to the light and assures visitors of the vast rejuvenation taking place. “We’ve had our share of hard knocks.” “Some might say that time has left our town behind.” “Neighborhoods given up for dead are being given new life.” Even the snow has an honored place in the script.

Juxtaposed against tourist destinations in which weather is the draw, with little authenticity behind sun and spa, Buffalo stands out as real. Blue collar and white collar workers alike have withstood decades of economic devastation and year after year of bone-chilling temperatures. The people remain ever cheerful, trust me. The city by Niagara Falls has a lot to be proud of.

I like the new slogan. I just wish the video had been narrated by someone with a Buffalo accent.

Now that would be real.

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Filed under All Things Wordish, Marketing/Advertising/PR, Technology and Social Media, Travel

100 proof pure poison

It doesn’t matter how often or how extensively we clean our house. We still uncover the oddest things and collections of things under the layers of dust that have been accumulating for 20 years.

Oh, the things we find in bags, bowls, bins, buckets and baskets.

Yesterday, I dared to peek into an old brass bin on a shelf above the basement stairs. Most of the contents were minute—paper clips, safety pins, tiny pieces of broken toys, a few rusty screws and a small paperback book entitled Jesse Helms “quoted”: 100 Proof Pure Old Jess.

I’m glad I have the opportunity to clean out my things before strangers come in to organize a sale of my so-called estate. This find would be hard to explain.

The source of this relic is a little fuzzy to me; It must have been a gag gift from someone who knew that neither my husband nor I was ever a big supporter of the late North Carolina senator. Quite possibly, it was a re-gift. No matter.

I looked the book up online to see if I could get a little background. I found only a used book site, where several owners were selling their copies. The site did tell me that, if I liked this book, I might also like 2000 Foreign Policy Overview and the President’s Fiscal Year 2001 Foreign Affairs Budget Request: Congress hearing. I think I’ll pass. Maybe I’ll wait for the movie.

For some reason, I expected to find humor in the 67 pages of the book that contain direct quotes from Sen. Helms, who lived from 1921 to 2008. If anyone who lived only during the last two decades of Helms’ life gazed upon these quotes, they’d be shocked—barely more than I was, though—to realize that such flagrant bigotry was expressed so freely and publicly in the late 20th century and into the 21st.

The last section of the book is devoted to political cartoons about the man, but these provided little relief for my sour stomach.

There was only one quote I found worthy to excerpt in this blog; it’s the first one printed in the book:

“Well there are a lot of number one problems in America. But let me boil it down to two…”

Don’t make me share the rest.

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Filed under Hearth and Home, Politics, Reading

Sunny in Orlando

We know someone who tells people he meets that he’s from “Orlando, Florida.” I always wonder to myself why he doesn’t just say “Orlando.” I mean, are people going to think he’s from Orlando, Oklahoma? It turns out that they might. Or Orlando, Kentucky, or Orlando, West Virginia.

I snicker when I hear people—usually ones who don’t travel very much—refer to “Paris, France,” or “London, England,” or places where the country is implied. Everyone knows Paris is in France; you really don’t need to say it. Or do you? There are at least 10 cities in the United States called Paris.

I do travel a lot, and I consult Weather.com before I go anywhere. The Weather Channel’s website has an auto-search feature that, when the name of a city is typed in, offers a choice of the top cities bearing that name.

Going to Philadelphia? Don’t mis-click, or you’ll get the weather for Philadelphia, Missouri, or Mississippi or New York or Tennessee.

Just a little trivia for geography buffs from some of my recent searches (or perhaps geography buffs already know this):

Charlotte: In addition to North Carolina, Charlotte is in Arkansas, Vermont, Iowa, Michigan, New York, Tennessee and Texas.

Dallas: Georgia, Iowa, North Carolina, Oregon, Pennsylvania, South Dakota, Wisconsin and West Virginia

Atlanta: Idaho, Illinois, Indiana, Kansas, Louisiana, Michigan, Missouri, Nebraska and New York

Sacramento: Kentucky, New Mexico and Pennsylvania

Detroit: Alabama, Maine, Oregon and Texas

Phoenix: Maryland, New York and Oregon

Denver: Iowa, Indiana, Kentucky, Missouri, North Carolina, New York and Pennsylvania

Raleigh: Illinois, Mississippi, North Dakota and West Virginia

Miami: Arizona, Indiana, Missouri, New Mexico, Oklahoma, Texas and West Virginia

Richmond: California, Illinois, Indiana, Kansas, Kentucky, Massachusetts, Maine, Michigan and Minnesota

Minneapolis: Kansas and North Carolina

Syracuse: North Dakota, Kansas, Missouri, Nebraska, Ohio and Utah

Well, I’d better go check the weather in San Antonio. Oops, not New Mexico.

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Filed under Technology and Social Media, Travel

Gold in the freestyle

Did you hear? The United States took six gold medals over the weekend.

No, I’m not a year early for the Olympics. The event to which I’m referring didn’t take place in London but rather, in Trondheim, Norway: the biennial World Beard & Mustache Championships, considered to be the premier competition of the world’s facial hair elite.

Following last weekend’s competitions, organizers announced that Keith Haubrich ”completed the three-peat in Freestyle Moustache. Newcomers to the world stage Bill Mitchell from Georgia and Giovanni Dominice from Arizona won in Partial Beard Freestyle and Imperial Moustache respectively.” For an interpretation of what this means, and to get a sense of the hairy-ness of the competition, do spend time on your lunch hour today combing through the organization’s website, which is translated into 19 languages.

In case you were wondering, I didn’t happen on the news by trolling obscure sources for blog topics. This world event was covered by CNN, which ran a pre-event story online last Friday and used up all the good hair puns (e.g., the competition has its roots in a 1990 event).

A couple of quotes CNN ran caught my eye. Ole Skibnes, the president of the host Norwegian Moustache Club, said, “You can’t just judge the size of the moustache — you have to see if the hair is well-groomed, see if it suits the person, see if it makes them look good.” Notice Skibnes uses “they” in lieu of a masculine pronoun. Interesting. Could it be that the games aren’t Just for Men?

CNN also reported: “It was at the Anchorage games that the United States emerged as the ‘premier power in world bearding,’ according to Beard Team USA captain Phil Olsen, who predicts that America will net a staggering eight out of 17 possible gold medals at the games.” Olsen’s prediction fell short by two, but I’m giving him points for using “bearding” as a verb as though it were an Olympic sport. 

By the way, Team USA will hold its next national competition this fall in the Amish country of Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Be there or be without hair.

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