I looked at a thesaurus to find synonyms for the word "poignant." I found these:
moving
emotional
touching
affecting
tender
sad
heartrending
distressing
heartbreaking
upsetting
agonizing
Please keep those in mind as you read the following, excerpted from Publisher's Weekly magazine:
Skyhorse Publishing announced today that it plans to publish Letters to President Obama: Americans Share Our Hopes and Dreams with the First African-American President in April 2009. The initial printing will be 50,000 copies in hardcover.
Skyhorse is encouraging Americans to submit letters for consideration by visiting www.letterstopresidentobama.com. Asked if they were afraid of a "wingnut reaction," associate publisher Bill Wolfsthal replied that "The highly qualified editors of the book—all professors at University of Michigan and Cornell—will edit the collection to create a thought-provoking and poignant collection."Asked what would happen if Obama did not prevail on Election Day, Wolfsthal said, "We’ll deal with that if it happens. The book might still be a poignant piece of history if Obama should lose."
"I know this book will make a unique statement about who we are as American in 2009," added Wolfsthal, "and will provide an opportunity for citizens to share their feelings with one another—both by writing letters and reading the finished book."
"......." I'm mostly speechless.
I have to believe that in the first use of poignant, "..a thought-provoking and poignant collection," the publisher was thinking of the first group of synonyms: moving, emotional, touching, affecting and tender.
With the second use, "..might still be a poignant piece of history if Obama should lose," the others descriptors fit the context better:
sad, heartrending, distressing, heartbreaking, upsetting and agonizing.
Believe it or not, John McCain still has a few (million) supporters. Not one of them will be heartbroken or distressed should Senator Obama come up short in the election.
Can someone please explain to me what on earth Americans will have to say in letters to President Obama, after he's been in office for approximately sixty-five days? Our hopes and dreams? That's what we'll write him? Really?
Whatever. What if the unthinkable happens, and Obama is not our next President? The publishers have considered that horrifying thought. Remember, the book will "make a statement about who we are and might still make a poignant piece of history."
But the editors are prepared for an onslaught from people less than honorable about the intentions who misunderstand the spirit of the book. Is that what he means by "wingnut" reaction? Are "wingnuts" the people who choose to vote for someone other than Barack Obama? Why does that make them less than reasonable? Are these Americans not allowed to contribute letters to President Obama, and share their hopes and dreams with the first African-American President? Agenda anyone???
May I pose a hypothetical here? It's possible that some voters will be thrilled and delighted if Senator Obama were to be defeated. I know - there aren't really any of those people in existence if you take the world view espoused by publishers from coast to coast - but let's suppose there are. Where is there room for them in this statement about who they are as Americans in April 2009? Are they a poignant piece of history, too?
Doubt it.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Monday, October 27, 2008
More things I don't understand....
The list is varied and long. But here's the latest:
I don't understand the commercial for Match.com. I've seen several versions of it and I'm still confused.
Whatever the variation, this online dating service shows an attractive person posing for some video tape, laughing, smiling, and generally looking amiable and approachable, which I suppose represents the kind of members one might find on Match.com as you look through the dating prospects. Great, right? The people on Match.com are exactly the kind of people you're looking for to meet, date, and then possibly partner with for the rest of your life.
Except for this: their offer. I'm paraphrasing but the commercial contains a guarantee of sorts: if you don't find someone within the first six months of membership, they'll give you another six months for free.
So in other words, we may not be able to meet your needs in six months but hey, stick around for another six for free. Maybe things will work out.
This makes no sense to me! I get the FREE offer and all - I suppose that's the least they could do after six months of no significant relationship budding - but isn't that kind of like saying "Thanks for supporting our service. We know it didn't work out very well which is why we're not going to try to re-sell it to you. But we also don't want you to try another one instead. So stay here - and keep looking. Maybe someone will turn up."
Seems to me that the largest efforts in online businesses like this must be the sign-up factor. Once you're in, and have paid your dues, they don't want you to leave, even if they let you stay for free. After all, the number of hits, number of members, and page views sell ads and web banners. So losing members is not a good business plan.
I'd feel better about the offer if it gave a money-back guarantee. Sign up and look for your partner or six months! If at the end of your membership, you find yourself alone, we'll give you your money back. The extra six months are positioned as a free thing - and they are, I guess - but what is the value? The value should be finding friendship and romantic partnership.
Caveat: I've never used one of these services and I have friends that have - and continue to do so. Maybe the extra six months for free are extremely valuable to members who want to keep up their profiles and meet new members regularly. To me, as an observer, it just feels like a hollow offer to me. "We didn't work for you, just give us a little longer; we might not work then either but at least we didn't work for free." Quite compelling, I must say.
I don't understand the commercial for Match.com. I've seen several versions of it and I'm still confused.
Whatever the variation, this online dating service shows an attractive person posing for some video tape, laughing, smiling, and generally looking amiable and approachable, which I suppose represents the kind of members one might find on Match.com as you look through the dating prospects. Great, right? The people on Match.com are exactly the kind of people you're looking for to meet, date, and then possibly partner with for the rest of your life.
Except for this: their offer. I'm paraphrasing but the commercial contains a guarantee of sorts: if you don't find someone within the first six months of membership, they'll give you another six months for free.
So in other words, we may not be able to meet your needs in six months but hey, stick around for another six for free. Maybe things will work out.
This makes no sense to me! I get the FREE offer and all - I suppose that's the least they could do after six months of no significant relationship budding - but isn't that kind of like saying "Thanks for supporting our service. We know it didn't work out very well which is why we're not going to try to re-sell it to you. But we also don't want you to try another one instead. So stay here - and keep looking. Maybe someone will turn up."
Seems to me that the largest efforts in online businesses like this must be the sign-up factor. Once you're in, and have paid your dues, they don't want you to leave, even if they let you stay for free. After all, the number of hits, number of members, and page views sell ads and web banners. So losing members is not a good business plan.
I'd feel better about the offer if it gave a money-back guarantee. Sign up and look for your partner or six months! If at the end of your membership, you find yourself alone, we'll give you your money back. The extra six months are positioned as a free thing - and they are, I guess - but what is the value? The value should be finding friendship and romantic partnership.
Caveat: I've never used one of these services and I have friends that have - and continue to do so. Maybe the extra six months for free are extremely valuable to members who want to keep up their profiles and meet new members regularly. To me, as an observer, it just feels like a hollow offer to me. "We didn't work for you, just give us a little longer; we might not work then either but at least we didn't work for free." Quite compelling, I must say.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
flying story 2
Here we go: my flying story number 2. This is the one that unfortunately gets and less surprising as the years pass and the frequent flier miles pile up.
I love the aisle. I always request the aisle and I almost always get the aisle. And I'm not a tall person so it's not as if I need the aisle. Maybe it's a touch of claustrophobia if it's even possible to have a touch of that.
Also, I don't hate flying but I don't exactly love it. Maybe I don't really want to gaze out the window contemplating the wonders of 30,000 feet and the fact that it makes almost no sense that airplanes do actually leave the ground and get airborne than almost unbelievably land again somewhere else, somewhere they plan to land in fact.
So, that said, I settled into the aisle seat, and amazingly the middle seat remained unoccupied for a very long time. Then a young mother and her daughter - maybe 18 months old or so - walked down the aisle and stopped at my row. The two of them were going to share the middle seat.
In a moment of magnanimity, I offered up my aisle seat, imagining it might be more comfortable for the mom in terms of space and elbow room. "Did you want this seat?" I asked. "It might be easier for you..."
She answered "Yes," and stored her three or four bags then took the aisle seat. Please note, she didn't say, 'yes, thanks very much,' or even 'yes, thanks.' Just yes. Maybe she was tired. I was about 7 am after all.
I usually hate the notion of flying near children. I've had too many annoying experiences with them. But the thing is, it's almost never the kids themselves that annoy me. It's their parents, or the other adults around them. This was no exception.
The point of this story is that we had a 2 hours+ flight in front of us and the mom had not one toy or book or game or snack for her little girl. Not one. Nothing except one tiny stuffed animal that the little girl never put down. How could that be? How could this woman board a plane with several carry-on bags, including what looked like a diaper bag, and not have anything to amuse or feed her daughter?
Maybe she's having difficulties. Maybe she's preoccupied by some very bad news...maybe she's flying somewhere for a funeral for god's sake. She didn't strike me as a very warm or open person but what did I know? My few attempts to converse with her went nowhere. But who am I to be so judgmental?
None of that changed the situation. So here's me, sitting next to the adorable little girl, and her clueless, semi-stoic mother, with nothing but the Skymall to amuse the child. She and I paged through the magazine, trying to find the puppies and kittens. (If you know Skymall, you know there are perhaps a total of six pages of pet supplies, so this little activity got old fairly quickly.) Luckily, the little girl had a very sweet disposition and if she was really bored, she never let on.
As we began our landing, the girl started to whimper and cry, probably because her ears were popping and she felt uncomfortable. You won't be surprised to hear that the mother kept saying things like this to her: "Quiet....be quiet. Okay now, quiet down."
I pulled out the water bottle I carried and offered to pour some of it into the sippy cup the little girl was holding. I offered it with a lame, "Maybe it's her ears....you know. Something to drink will help..."
I filled the cup and the little girl took a drink, then settled down. Weird that I filled it, not her Mom, no?
Last little bit: as we prepared to depart, the young mother stood up in the aisle and began gathering her belongings. The little girl stood on the seat, and I couldn't help but hold out my arm to kind of protect her from falling or mis-stepping as she stood there. Once the mom had everything, she turned for her daughter.
Unfortunately, the little girl reached her arms out to me instead. "Oh no, honey! Go to Mommy! Go on!! Bye bye sweetie..."
What the heck? I read her a Skymall and gave her some water and she's reaching out to me? Good Lord. I watched the Mom walk her daughter through the airport - I can only hope she was heading home to some family support or to her husband who would give that little girl a hug.
Just a bad morning I told myself. Just a bad morning.
I hope.
I love the aisle. I always request the aisle and I almost always get the aisle. And I'm not a tall person so it's not as if I need the aisle. Maybe it's a touch of claustrophobia if it's even possible to have a touch of that.
Also, I don't hate flying but I don't exactly love it. Maybe I don't really want to gaze out the window contemplating the wonders of 30,000 feet and the fact that it makes almost no sense that airplanes do actually leave the ground and get airborne than almost unbelievably land again somewhere else, somewhere they plan to land in fact.
So, that said, I settled into the aisle seat, and amazingly the middle seat remained unoccupied for a very long time. Then a young mother and her daughter - maybe 18 months old or so - walked down the aisle and stopped at my row. The two of them were going to share the middle seat.
In a moment of magnanimity, I offered up my aisle seat, imagining it might be more comfortable for the mom in terms of space and elbow room. "Did you want this seat?" I asked. "It might be easier for you..."
She answered "Yes," and stored her three or four bags then took the aisle seat. Please note, she didn't say, 'yes, thanks very much,' or even 'yes, thanks.' Just yes. Maybe she was tired. I was about 7 am after all.
I usually hate the notion of flying near children. I've had too many annoying experiences with them. But the thing is, it's almost never the kids themselves that annoy me. It's their parents, or the other adults around them. This was no exception.
The point of this story is that we had a 2 hours+ flight in front of us and the mom had not one toy or book or game or snack for her little girl. Not one. Nothing except one tiny stuffed animal that the little girl never put down. How could that be? How could this woman board a plane with several carry-on bags, including what looked like a diaper bag, and not have anything to amuse or feed her daughter?
Maybe she's having difficulties. Maybe she's preoccupied by some very bad news...maybe she's flying somewhere for a funeral for god's sake. She didn't strike me as a very warm or open person but what did I know? My few attempts to converse with her went nowhere. But who am I to be so judgmental?
None of that changed the situation. So here's me, sitting next to the adorable little girl, and her clueless, semi-stoic mother, with nothing but the Skymall to amuse the child. She and I paged through the magazine, trying to find the puppies and kittens. (If you know Skymall, you know there are perhaps a total of six pages of pet supplies, so this little activity got old fairly quickly.) Luckily, the little girl had a very sweet disposition and if she was really bored, she never let on.
As we began our landing, the girl started to whimper and cry, probably because her ears were popping and she felt uncomfortable. You won't be surprised to hear that the mother kept saying things like this to her: "Quiet....be quiet. Okay now, quiet down."
I pulled out the water bottle I carried and offered to pour some of it into the sippy cup the little girl was holding. I offered it with a lame, "Maybe it's her ears....you know. Something to drink will help..."
I filled the cup and the little girl took a drink, then settled down. Weird that I filled it, not her Mom, no?
Last little bit: as we prepared to depart, the young mother stood up in the aisle and began gathering her belongings. The little girl stood on the seat, and I couldn't help but hold out my arm to kind of protect her from falling or mis-stepping as she stood there. Once the mom had everything, she turned for her daughter.
Unfortunately, the little girl reached her arms out to me instead. "Oh no, honey! Go to Mommy! Go on!! Bye bye sweetie..."
What the heck? I read her a Skymall and gave her some water and she's reaching out to me? Good Lord. I watched the Mom walk her daughter through the airport - I can only hope she was heading home to some family support or to her husband who would give that little girl a hug.
Just a bad morning I told myself. Just a bad morning.
I hope.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Two new flying stories
One is sort of familiar; one is surprising.
I just flew home from a business trip and encountered one very surprising element on my trip down; and one not so surprising (unfortunately) event on the way home.
On the outbound flight, everything was going along just beautifully for about 2 hours. As we began our descent, it was pandemonium - sort of. A few rows in front of me, the flight attendant grabbed the microphone and in a rather frantic, loud voice, announced the following: "If there is a doctor on the plane, I need you to come to Row 9 RIGHT NOW."
A few people walked up the aisle toward Row 9 and encountered...God knows what. By this time, the attendants - maybe as many as three of them - were hovering over someone in Row 9, seated by the window. One of them was screaming "Sir! Sir! Sir! I need you to sit down....Sir!!" Clearly, he wasn't responding.
Reminder that the plane is, in fact, getting closer and closer to the ground, and at this point we have several attendants leaning over Row 9, a few people who are medical types also hovering or kneeling near the passenger in distress, and at least one person seated in Row 9 standing in or near the aisle.
While this medical attention of some kind is being given to the passenger, the attendant came back on the intercom and asked everyone on the plane the following:
"Does anyone have a Xanax?"
A Xanax? For whom? For her? For the rest of us to split? For the passenger having a problem? For the pilot?
The pilot then announced that everyone must keep their seats after we land and allow the paramedics to board the plane and remove the passenger with the emergency. I kept thinking: so what's going on? Are we going to land with about six or seven people - including passengers - just standing there?
Yes, the answer is yes. The plane landed with two passengers from Row 9 standing; plus two or three medical people kneeling or standing, and two attendants also on their feet.
I'm not normally a difficult flier but I have to tell you: it's going to be very, very difficult to obey that "raise your tray table and put your seat up" directive the next time we're heading into an airport to land. It will be very, very difficult to not respond with something like the following: "My tray table is staying down and my seat is staying reclined! I was on a plane with people STANDING throughout the landing for God's sake! And not airline people, seemingly trained for just such events. Passengers like me who just happened to be in Row 9."
I won't say it of course. I'll raise my tray and bring my seat up. But I'll want to.
The story of the sadly familiar story on the return flight incident next time.
I just flew home from a business trip and encountered one very surprising element on my trip down; and one not so surprising (unfortunately) event on the way home.
On the outbound flight, everything was going along just beautifully for about 2 hours. As we began our descent, it was pandemonium - sort of. A few rows in front of me, the flight attendant grabbed the microphone and in a rather frantic, loud voice, announced the following: "If there is a doctor on the plane, I need you to come to Row 9 RIGHT NOW."
A few people walked up the aisle toward Row 9 and encountered...God knows what. By this time, the attendants - maybe as many as three of them - were hovering over someone in Row 9, seated by the window. One of them was screaming "Sir! Sir! Sir! I need you to sit down....Sir!!" Clearly, he wasn't responding.
Reminder that the plane is, in fact, getting closer and closer to the ground, and at this point we have several attendants leaning over Row 9, a few people who are medical types also hovering or kneeling near the passenger in distress, and at least one person seated in Row 9 standing in or near the aisle.
While this medical attention of some kind is being given to the passenger, the attendant came back on the intercom and asked everyone on the plane the following:
"Does anyone have a Xanax?"
A Xanax? For whom? For her? For the rest of us to split? For the passenger having a problem? For the pilot?
The pilot then announced that everyone must keep their seats after we land and allow the paramedics to board the plane and remove the passenger with the emergency. I kept thinking: so what's going on? Are we going to land with about six or seven people - including passengers - just standing there?
Yes, the answer is yes. The plane landed with two passengers from Row 9 standing; plus two or three medical people kneeling or standing, and two attendants also on their feet.
I'm not normally a difficult flier but I have to tell you: it's going to be very, very difficult to obey that "raise your tray table and put your seat up" directive the next time we're heading into an airport to land. It will be very, very difficult to not respond with something like the following: "My tray table is staying down and my seat is staying reclined! I was on a plane with people STANDING throughout the landing for God's sake! And not airline people, seemingly trained for just such events. Passengers like me who just happened to be in Row 9."
I won't say it of course. I'll raise my tray and bring my seat up. But I'll want to.
The story of the sadly familiar story on the return flight incident next time.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Okay, I won't send it. Fine by me.
Let me understand this.
Ringo Starr, one of the two remaining Beatles on the planet, and arguably the most endearing but possibly also the least musically versatile among them, has issued a statement to his worldwide fans that he is calling a moratorium to his fan mail.
He hasn't been sitting idly by, reliving past glory and brooding about how it all changed. Over the past twenty years or so, he's assembled interesting and talented musicians from time to time, and toured the world with his music. Quite successfully I might add. His 31-city North American summer tour just ended.
So let's take a look at his video statement, shall we? In reference to his fan mail, he had this to say: "It's going to be tossed. ... I'm warning you with peace and love, I have too much to do. So no more fan mail. Thank you, thank you. And no objects to be signed. Nothing. Anyway, peace and love, peace and love."
Well, isn't that interesting. I hopped onto Ringo's official site and saw his notice about "no more signing" prominently displayed. So there it is: he will give his fans exactly nothing in terms of autographs or responses to their letters, cards, emails, etc.
I suppose, after more than forty years in or near the world's celebrity spotlight, he can certainly choose to do that. What I don't understand is his notion that he has "too much to do." Like what? Honestly, like what? His fans have a lot to do, too - more than he has on most days I would guess - more than he's had to do since 1970 I would imagine. And yet, they find time to write.
Besides, I don't think you can issue a peaceful and loving warning. Can you? Does that really work as a concept? A peaceful warning? A loving one? It's softer than saying "I'm warning you with unrest and hatred..." but at least that sounds more honest.
Here's what's ironic to me. Directly beneath his video message telling fans to stop contacting him, the website contains the details of a photo contest, asking fans to submit their favorite Ringo and the All Starr band photos from the tour this summer.
Here's the language they use in the promotion:
Have you been coveting your picture of Ringo and his All-Star Starr band
captured from the recent All-Star tour?
Ringo wants YOU, his loyal fans, to submit photos taken from his 2008 All-Star tour.
Ringo will hand pick his favorite photo to be featured on his official website, Ringostarr.com.
The lucky winner will also go home with a Ringo Starr Autographed Drum head!
Winner to be notified via email in early December.
I think that's nerve. in other words, here's the message from Ringo, or at least from his webmasters: "I don't want you to write a personal letter, expressing your thanks or admiration or whatever for my career. In fact, I'll toss anything that comes my way. But I will take your photos - and not pay you for them - to populate my website. And by the way, I'll send you an autographed drum head if I really like the photo."
Ummm - here's a thought: hire a photographer! What - your fans are supposed to supply you with photos for free? So they can get a photo credit on your website? Please.
Maybe some fans will send in photos of themselves writing letters to Ringo, sending him some memorabilia to sign, and then putting them in the mail. Maybe they'll send photos of themselves checking their mailboxes for autographed photos of Ringo that never come. I'd love to see those on his website.
Ringo Starr, one of the two remaining Beatles on the planet, and arguably the most endearing but possibly also the least musically versatile among them, has issued a statement to his worldwide fans that he is calling a moratorium to his fan mail.
He hasn't been sitting idly by, reliving past glory and brooding about how it all changed. Over the past twenty years or so, he's assembled interesting and talented musicians from time to time, and toured the world with his music. Quite successfully I might add. His 31-city North American summer tour just ended.
So let's take a look at his video statement, shall we? In reference to his fan mail, he had this to say: "It's going to be tossed. ... I'm warning you with peace and love, I have too much to do. So no more fan mail. Thank you, thank you. And no objects to be signed. Nothing. Anyway, peace and love, peace and love."
Well, isn't that interesting. I hopped onto Ringo's official site and saw his notice about "no more signing" prominently displayed. So there it is: he will give his fans exactly nothing in terms of autographs or responses to their letters, cards, emails, etc.
I suppose, after more than forty years in or near the world's celebrity spotlight, he can certainly choose to do that. What I don't understand is his notion that he has "too much to do." Like what? Honestly, like what? His fans have a lot to do, too - more than he has on most days I would guess - more than he's had to do since 1970 I would imagine. And yet, they find time to write.
Besides, I don't think you can issue a peaceful and loving warning. Can you? Does that really work as a concept? A peaceful warning? A loving one? It's softer than saying "I'm warning you with unrest and hatred..." but at least that sounds more honest.
Here's what's ironic to me. Directly beneath his video message telling fans to stop contacting him, the website contains the details of a photo contest, asking fans to submit their favorite Ringo and the All Starr band photos from the tour this summer.
Here's the language they use in the promotion:
Have you been coveting your picture of Ringo and his All-Star Starr band
captured from the recent All-Star tour?
Ringo wants YOU, his loyal fans, to submit photos taken from his 2008 All-Star tour.
Ringo will hand pick his favorite photo to be featured on his official website, Ringostarr.com.
The lucky winner will also go home with a Ringo Starr Autographed Drum head!
Winner to be notified via email in early December.
I think that's nerve. in other words, here's the message from Ringo, or at least from his webmasters: "I don't want you to write a personal letter, expressing your thanks or admiration or whatever for my career. In fact, I'll toss anything that comes my way. But I will take your photos - and not pay you for them - to populate my website. And by the way, I'll send you an autographed drum head if I really like the photo."
Ummm - here's a thought: hire a photographer! What - your fans are supposed to supply you with photos for free? So they can get a photo credit on your website? Please.
Maybe some fans will send in photos of themselves writing letters to Ringo, sending him some memorabilia to sign, and then putting them in the mail. Maybe they'll send photos of themselves checking their mailboxes for autographed photos of Ringo that never come. I'd love to see those on his website.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Maybe we're pretty easy to figure out after all
I love it when I read articles or studies that tell us how women are complex, complicated creatures. With all due respect to the researchers who conduct the surveys, hold those focus groups and collate all that information, I need to weigh in with the following conclusion: no, we're not.
Don't get me wrong. I think some of the women I've met along the way are among the most interesting, most provocative thinkers in the world. It's just that deep down, regardless of our life circumstances, our educations, or our various life situations, we seem to crave the same things.
Example - I just spent a few days out of town on business. Along with my laptop, I packed a away a few movies, just in case I wanted to entertain myself in my room. (This trip's entertainment had a distinctly Jane Austen flair: Sense and Sensibility and Pride and Prejudice (the Colin Firth version.)
You shouldn't be surprised to hear the following: every woman accompanying me on the trip (there were five of us) semi-seriously asked if we could blow off our "work" agendas for the evenings, our client dinners, our "drinks before dinner" with vendors and meet in my room, order room service, and watch a movie. Tempting, I can tell you.
I know what you're thinking: but if you were all away on a trip together, you are sort of the same breed of professional women. This had to be the reason why this pajama party with an English accent was so appealing to us. Maybe. Maybe not.
I read a women's message board online recently where women answered this question: "How do you pamper yourself? What are the little luxuries you indulge in?" The uniformity of the answers was not surprising, given my premise about women not being all that complicated or all that different. In a mini-homage to Marlena Dietrich, women mostly answered that they want to be left alone. Here's a brief summary of the kind of answers they gave:
quiet time
an uninterrupted nap
a hotel suite by myself where I can bathe or shower uninterrupted
a couple of hours alone with a book
a movie by myself
bubble bath
drink a cup of tea and listen to music by myself
spent travel points at a nice hotel by myself - bubble bath TV, room service, nap
bargain shopping by myself
Are you seeing a pattern here? Honestly, there were pages and pages of these tips and almost all of them contained some measure of alone-ness. Many incorporated water, books, music and TV / movies.
I have to do some thinking about this but it seems to me, women feel somewhat fragmented, and unable to carve out time for ourselves in our personal lives. (I'd love to read how men would answer this question. Somehow I doubt being alone would top their lists.)
More to come - anyone with some wisdom to share on this is more than welcome.
Don't get me wrong. I think some of the women I've met along the way are among the most interesting, most provocative thinkers in the world. It's just that deep down, regardless of our life circumstances, our educations, or our various life situations, we seem to crave the same things.
Example - I just spent a few days out of town on business. Along with my laptop, I packed a away a few movies, just in case I wanted to entertain myself in my room. (This trip's entertainment had a distinctly Jane Austen flair: Sense and Sensibility and Pride and Prejudice (the Colin Firth version.)
You shouldn't be surprised to hear the following: every woman accompanying me on the trip (there were five of us) semi-seriously asked if we could blow off our "work" agendas for the evenings, our client dinners, our "drinks before dinner" with vendors and meet in my room, order room service, and watch a movie. Tempting, I can tell you.
I know what you're thinking: but if you were all away on a trip together, you are sort of the same breed of professional women. This had to be the reason why this pajama party with an English accent was so appealing to us. Maybe. Maybe not.
I read a women's message board online recently where women answered this question: "How do you pamper yourself? What are the little luxuries you indulge in?" The uniformity of the answers was not surprising, given my premise about women not being all that complicated or all that different. In a mini-homage to Marlena Dietrich, women mostly answered that they want to be left alone. Here's a brief summary of the kind of answers they gave:
quiet time
an uninterrupted nap
a hotel suite by myself where I can bathe or shower uninterrupted
a couple of hours alone with a book
a movie by myself
bubble bath
drink a cup of tea and listen to music by myself
spent travel points at a nice hotel by myself - bubble bath TV, room service, nap
bargain shopping by myself
Are you seeing a pattern here? Honestly, there were pages and pages of these tips and almost all of them contained some measure of alone-ness. Many incorporated water, books, music and TV / movies.
I have to do some thinking about this but it seems to me, women feel somewhat fragmented, and unable to carve out time for ourselves in our personal lives. (I'd love to read how men would answer this question. Somehow I doubt being alone would top their lists.)
More to come - anyone with some wisdom to share on this is more than welcome.
Monday, October 06, 2008
just when you think you've had about as much as you can stand....
...one of your kids comes through for you and helps you remember that life isn't entirely made up of one scandal, one tragedy, one misguided notion after the next. And I thank God for my kids every day.
The latest reminder of all things fun and wonderful and surprising about life comes courtesy of my youngest (by eleven minutes) son, Cameron. He was talking about some friends of his and I thought about one of the summer evenings they spent together. During one of those last August evenings, when we had a week of the first cool nights that were inevitably coming our way, Cameron and some of his friends took in a double feature at one of the area drive-ins.
The evening started out comfortably enough but by the time the intermission began, the temperature had dropped at least ten or fifteen degrees, and the air had a legitimate chill in it for the first time in months. Cameron and his friends were headed to the refreshment stand and unfortunately, Cam was the only one without a hoodie or even long sleeves. The idea of sitting through the second movie as he grew increasingly colder wasn't pleasant.
Friends to the rescue. Luckily, the boy who drove to the movie always carries a gorilla costume in his trunk. Yes, a complete gorilla suit, including a headpiece and gorilla face. That's being resourceful and creative at the same time. Cameron quickly suited up and everyone walked to the refreshment stand in relative comfort.
The best part of the story is not that Cameron felt perfectly at ease putting on a gorilla suit at a drive in. Not that he walked by dozens of people who stepped aside for a gorilla. Not that this could be called slightly unconventional by almost everyone. No, the best part was that the people working in the snack bar gave him a fried banana and his friend Pat took a picture of him eating it.
I love this story. I love it because truthfully, only Cameron could casually and with no affectation at all put on a gorilla suit and wear it around a drive-in movie. I love it because it's exactly the kind of story you think about when you think of kids and funny things they do precisely because they are kids. I love it because sometimes, maybe when Cameron may be driving me crazy about school or college applications or something else that is quite earth-shattering and possibly life-altering (in my mind, not in reality) I can remind myself that he once wore a gorilla suit to get warm and buy a bucket of popcorn at a movie.
I may not ever remember his high school trig grades, which may turn out to be blessing anyway, but I'll never forget about the night he wore the gorilla suit at the drive in.
The latest reminder of all things fun and wonderful and surprising about life comes courtesy of my youngest (by eleven minutes) son, Cameron. He was talking about some friends of his and I thought about one of the summer evenings they spent together. During one of those last August evenings, when we had a week of the first cool nights that were inevitably coming our way, Cameron and some of his friends took in a double feature at one of the area drive-ins.
The evening started out comfortably enough but by the time the intermission began, the temperature had dropped at least ten or fifteen degrees, and the air had a legitimate chill in it for the first time in months. Cameron and his friends were headed to the refreshment stand and unfortunately, Cam was the only one without a hoodie or even long sleeves. The idea of sitting through the second movie as he grew increasingly colder wasn't pleasant.
Friends to the rescue. Luckily, the boy who drove to the movie always carries a gorilla costume in his trunk. Yes, a complete gorilla suit, including a headpiece and gorilla face. That's being resourceful and creative at the same time. Cameron quickly suited up and everyone walked to the refreshment stand in relative comfort.
The best part of the story is not that Cameron felt perfectly at ease putting on a gorilla suit at a drive in. Not that he walked by dozens of people who stepped aside for a gorilla. Not that this could be called slightly unconventional by almost everyone. No, the best part was that the people working in the snack bar gave him a fried banana and his friend Pat took a picture of him eating it.
I love this story. I love it because truthfully, only Cameron could casually and with no affectation at all put on a gorilla suit and wear it around a drive-in movie. I love it because it's exactly the kind of story you think about when you think of kids and funny things they do precisely because they are kids. I love it because sometimes, maybe when Cameron may be driving me crazy about school or college applications or something else that is quite earth-shattering and possibly life-altering (in my mind, not in reality) I can remind myself that he once wore a gorilla suit to get warm and buy a bucket of popcorn at a movie.
I may not ever remember his high school trig grades, which may turn out to be blessing anyway, but I'll never forget about the night he wore the gorilla suit at the drive in.
Monday, September 29, 2008
"I complained about having no shoes..."
In honor of my grandmother, Antoinette Perruso, I give you my quote of the day: "I complained about having no shoes, until I saw the man with no feet."
The truth is, I'm not exactly sure my grandmother ever said that but it feels like something she would have said. She was a pragmatic woman who lived a life ahead of her time. In the 1930's and 40's, she worked a supervisor at a factory that manufactured slacks and other clothing. Her sister-in-law, Mary, who literally shared her house and her life, stayed home and helped raise her own children, as well as my grandmother's children (my mother, aunt and late uncle.) To this day, the now well into their senior years cousins are as close as siblings.
Until their large, two-family home burned to the ground, and they each moved into their own separate homes, the two brothers and their wives (including my grandparents)and their children shared a home together. The good old days without question.
One of the great losses we've suffered as our society has evolved is the loss of our family life. I spoke to my sister today, for about 15 minutes, and it was the first time we had spoken in weeks. I think that's sad. I don't think my mother goes more than a day without speaking to her sister - maybe even more than once a day.
When I was growing up, we had dinner every Sunday with my grandparents. A Sunday afternoon dinner that served as the main meal of the day. My aunts and uncles attened each week as well, and it was time to reconnect, relax, and enjoy each other as a new week began. When I hear about families that carry on that tradition, I envy them. There is something quietly beautiful about that kind of commitment to each other and the family you have created.
When I consider things in my life that need changing, I think about the time I don't spend with family and friends. I miss them very much. I tell myself I'm way too busy to make the call, spend the time, try to get together. I mean, aren't we all so busy, busy, busy?
Yes, we are. So what? If we don't have the time now, we never will. instead of relaxing over dinner or coffee or a drink together with the people we love, we'll have accomplished whatever critically important next big thing on our list is. Congratulations. Enjoy it. Call someone who cares. If you can remember their numbers.
I think it's time we all stop feeling so sorry for ourselves and our hectic frantic, manic lives; where we tell ourselves daily that we're simply too busy for friends or family. Or at the very least, it's time for me to stop the pity party and thinking such a ridiculous thing. It's perhaps the dumbest thought I've had in a lifetime of dumb thoughts. Who is too busy to be with people you love?
If not them, who? If not now, when?
The truth is, I'm not exactly sure my grandmother ever said that but it feels like something she would have said. She was a pragmatic woman who lived a life ahead of her time. In the 1930's and 40's, she worked a supervisor at a factory that manufactured slacks and other clothing. Her sister-in-law, Mary, who literally shared her house and her life, stayed home and helped raise her own children, as well as my grandmother's children (my mother, aunt and late uncle.) To this day, the now well into their senior years cousins are as close as siblings.
Until their large, two-family home burned to the ground, and they each moved into their own separate homes, the two brothers and their wives (including my grandparents)and their children shared a home together. The good old days without question.
One of the great losses we've suffered as our society has evolved is the loss of our family life. I spoke to my sister today, for about 15 minutes, and it was the first time we had spoken in weeks. I think that's sad. I don't think my mother goes more than a day without speaking to her sister - maybe even more than once a day.
When I was growing up, we had dinner every Sunday with my grandparents. A Sunday afternoon dinner that served as the main meal of the day. My aunts and uncles attened each week as well, and it was time to reconnect, relax, and enjoy each other as a new week began. When I hear about families that carry on that tradition, I envy them. There is something quietly beautiful about that kind of commitment to each other and the family you have created.
When I consider things in my life that need changing, I think about the time I don't spend with family and friends. I miss them very much. I tell myself I'm way too busy to make the call, spend the time, try to get together. I mean, aren't we all so busy, busy, busy?
Yes, we are. So what? If we don't have the time now, we never will. instead of relaxing over dinner or coffee or a drink together with the people we love, we'll have accomplished whatever critically important next big thing on our list is. Congratulations. Enjoy it. Call someone who cares. If you can remember their numbers.
I think it's time we all stop feeling so sorry for ourselves and our hectic frantic, manic lives; where we tell ourselves daily that we're simply too busy for friends or family. Or at the very least, it's time for me to stop the pity party and thinking such a ridiculous thing. It's perhaps the dumbest thought I've had in a lifetime of dumb thoughts. Who is too busy to be with people you love?
If not them, who? If not now, when?
Friday, September 26, 2008
I'm quitting. But it will be difficult.
In order to save my own sanity, I'm going to quit reading political blogs. They make me confused and angry.
I have no problem with the idea of people supporting the candidate of his or her choice. But I do have a huge problem with what I call "The Jane Craig Effect." Never heard of it? Allow me to explain.
Remember that movie from 1987, Broadcast News? In it, Holly Hunter plays a brillant but professionally (not personally) arrogant producer who simply cannot abide anyone's approach to the job at hand that varies in the slightest from what she believes is the best tactic.
Case in point: when the news team is called on unexpectedly to cover a breaking story, she strongly disagrees with the on air anchor tapped by the Paul Moore, a network executive, to head up the broadcast. She states her case emphatically to Paul, who listens and the politely but vehemently disagrees. He is surprised at her reluctance to back off her stance, her refusal to "agree to disagree." Here's his approach to her stubborn insistence at being correct:
Paul Moore: It must be nice to always believe you know better, to always think you're the smartest person in the room.
Jane Craig: No. It's awful.
That's how I feel about Obama fans. When you read blogs that contain commentary about both candidates, it feels like people supporting Obama must always be the smartest people in the room. It's not enough that they support their candidate, which I can fully respect and understand. The most vocal of them, and let's face it, those are the ones we hear from most often, are not quite satisfied until anyone who doesn't agree with them are made to feel like an illiterate morons.
This is The Jane Craig Effect is full force.
I don't understand why people need to be so arrogant in their support. I really don't.
Here's my take on The Jane Craig Effect: Belittling us, the people who simply choose to believe differently than you do, trying to make us feel less worthy, makes us wonder why you're so insecure.
I have no problem with the idea of people supporting the candidate of his or her choice. But I do have a huge problem with what I call "The Jane Craig Effect." Never heard of it? Allow me to explain.
Remember that movie from 1987, Broadcast News? In it, Holly Hunter plays a brillant but professionally (not personally) arrogant producer who simply cannot abide anyone's approach to the job at hand that varies in the slightest from what she believes is the best tactic.
Case in point: when the news team is called on unexpectedly to cover a breaking story, she strongly disagrees with the on air anchor tapped by the Paul Moore, a network executive, to head up the broadcast. She states her case emphatically to Paul, who listens and the politely but vehemently disagrees. He is surprised at her reluctance to back off her stance, her refusal to "agree to disagree." Here's his approach to her stubborn insistence at being correct:
Paul Moore: It must be nice to always believe you know better, to always think you're the smartest person in the room.
Jane Craig: No. It's awful.
That's how I feel about Obama fans. When you read blogs that contain commentary about both candidates, it feels like people supporting Obama must always be the smartest people in the room. It's not enough that they support their candidate, which I can fully respect and understand. The most vocal of them, and let's face it, those are the ones we hear from most often, are not quite satisfied until anyone who doesn't agree with them are made to feel like an illiterate morons.
This is The Jane Craig Effect is full force.
I don't understand why people need to be so arrogant in their support. I really don't.
Here's my take on The Jane Craig Effect: Belittling us, the people who simply choose to believe differently than you do, trying to make us feel less worthy, makes us wonder why you're so insecure.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
what did she do to you?
I just read about Oprah Winfrey choosing not to interview Sarah Palin. There’s certainly no law that says she has to but I thought she was in the business of ratings. And maybe there’s some kind of ‘equal time for all candidates opportunity’ here she doesn’t want to address. Maybe it would feel awkward since she endorsed Barack Obama months ago. Then again, maybe she doesn’t feel like devoting one hour of her show to the most hated woman in America.
One of Oprah’s recent guests was actress Gwyneth Paltrow, a woman who named her daughter ‘Apple’ by the way, who spoke about the tug of motherhood and how it has changed her viewpoint in terms of working away from home. I get it – I do. And I have no ax to grind with Ms. Paltrow. She’s choosing to work less frequently and spend more time with her children.
This kind of revelation about life choices by people like her are pointless. Quite honestly, I don't know why no one gets this: the "choice" women face has NOTHING to do with gender and everything to do with money. Otherwise, Oprah would be talking to dewey-eyed toll-collectors or secretaries or bartenders or waitresses who decide they simply must ‘take less work’ in order to not lose any of those precious Hallmark moments with their children. One problem: a lot of women want to spend more time with their children but they have to work that annoying 40-hour work week.
Back to Palin. I’m so tired of hearing about how selfish she is and how unconscionable it is that she has young children – including a newborn with Down’s Syndrome and a teenage daughter having a baby in a few months – and is still seeking the office of vice-president. Make no mistake: the number one reason people in the media and around the country are denigrating her and worse (making comic figurines and creating demeaning nicknames for her) is that she’s a woman. A woman who doesn’t meet the standards of “modern,” “enlightened,” or “politically correct” according to everyone in this country who is simply too smart for the rest of us.
This is why people don't go all weak in the knees, worrying about Obama, and judging him harshly about all the precious moments he's already missed (since his presidential campaign has been going on for two years,) and will continue to miss in his daughters’ lives, should his political career reach the stratosphere. They never said it about Bill Clinton, either, and his daughter was twelve years old when he took office. (Chelsea was three years old when he began serving his term as governor of Arkansas.)
Because until about forty years ago, men made the money; women raised the kids. But Gloria and Bela and their ilk told us we could do more. Like gullible idiots, women in this country bought into this. And now where are we? Mocking Sarah Palin for having the "audacity" to have children and ambition as well.
Shame on Governor Palin. She's got a helluva lot of nerve.
So do millions of women who chose both motherhood and a career. Yes, believe it or not, it’s possible. It's not exactly a joy-filled ride from start to finish and I have spent countless hours torturing myself, wondering how it all went so awry, beleive me. (The trouble with the women's movement is that we forgot to tell the guys about it. And I think it's fair to say that none of it quite worked out the way Gloria thought it would. That's another blog entry for another day.)
But think about it: the open-mindedness of the Sarah-haters boggles, doesn’t it?
One of Oprah’s recent guests was actress Gwyneth Paltrow, a woman who named her daughter ‘Apple’ by the way, who spoke about the tug of motherhood and how it has changed her viewpoint in terms of working away from home. I get it – I do. And I have no ax to grind with Ms. Paltrow. She’s choosing to work less frequently and spend more time with her children.
This kind of revelation about life choices by people like her are pointless. Quite honestly, I don't know why no one gets this: the "choice" women face has NOTHING to do with gender and everything to do with money. Otherwise, Oprah would be talking to dewey-eyed toll-collectors or secretaries or bartenders or waitresses who decide they simply must ‘take less work’ in order to not lose any of those precious Hallmark moments with their children. One problem: a lot of women want to spend more time with their children but they have to work that annoying 40-hour work week.
Back to Palin. I’m so tired of hearing about how selfish she is and how unconscionable it is that she has young children – including a newborn with Down’s Syndrome and a teenage daughter having a baby in a few months – and is still seeking the office of vice-president. Make no mistake: the number one reason people in the media and around the country are denigrating her and worse (making comic figurines and creating demeaning nicknames for her) is that she’s a woman. A woman who doesn’t meet the standards of “modern,” “enlightened,” or “politically correct” according to everyone in this country who is simply too smart for the rest of us.
This is why people don't go all weak in the knees, worrying about Obama, and judging him harshly about all the precious moments he's already missed (since his presidential campaign has been going on for two years,) and will continue to miss in his daughters’ lives, should his political career reach the stratosphere. They never said it about Bill Clinton, either, and his daughter was twelve years old when he took office. (Chelsea was three years old when he began serving his term as governor of Arkansas.)
Because until about forty years ago, men made the money; women raised the kids. But Gloria and Bela and their ilk told us we could do more. Like gullible idiots, women in this country bought into this. And now where are we? Mocking Sarah Palin for having the "audacity" to have children and ambition as well.
Shame on Governor Palin. She's got a helluva lot of nerve.
So do millions of women who chose both motherhood and a career. Yes, believe it or not, it’s possible. It's not exactly a joy-filled ride from start to finish and I have spent countless hours torturing myself, wondering how it all went so awry, beleive me. (The trouble with the women's movement is that we forgot to tell the guys about it. And I think it's fair to say that none of it quite worked out the way Gloria thought it would. That's another blog entry for another day.)
But think about it: the open-mindedness of the Sarah-haters boggles, doesn’t it?
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
The unbelieveable viciousness is simply vicious.
I am not really a political junkie.
Yes, I vote and I follow campaigns, but not with the furor or enthusiasm of so many people I hear about in the news. And even if you never follow politics, you can't get away from it this year, at least in terms of the coverage the presidential campaign has been given over the past few weeks.
Sara Palin has divided this country like no politician I can remember in my lifetime. I get that - you either like her politics and views or you don't. And I also understand that as major party candidate in a very close race, she could be history-making if John McCain is elected president. But even given all that, what I don't understand is the viciousness of the attacks made upon her, the mockery made of her and her beliefs, the outrageous furor at the "audacity of hope" (to coin a phrase) she has adopted to even imagine she could serve in the office of vice president.
Let's leave her politics out of this particular discussion. If the rejection and dismay we were reading about and hearing about in the news were simply about her politics, the stories would have faded out of the headlines about two weeks ago. It's not about her politics. Some people simply hate the fact that she's in the race.
But it's not because she's a woman. People are not reacting to her being a woman; they are reacting with venom because she's not the right woman.
She's pro-life! She's conservative! Sure, she's a governor but jeez, it's Alaska for god's sake! What's so hard about governing Alaska? Who ever even thinks about Alaska? Does NOW like her? Does the ACLU like her? Does Barbra like her? What rock star is planning to throw a fundraiser in her honor?
And by the way, who gets to decide who is the right woman? Is it okay is if she's married? Can she be a mother? Must her children have achieved a certain age before she can hold a major office? Must her husband have a high-powered job? Must she have an Ivy League degree? Must she be an attorney? Hillary Clinton met all these "requirements" and look where that got her.
It kills me that women who claim to be liberal and free-thinking are horrified at her candidacy. "How can she be thinking of running for vice-president when she has a special-needs newborn?" "How can she be thinking of this when her teenage daughter turns up pregnant and not married?" "How can she imagine for one second that she is remotely qualified to hold this job and perform it well?" "How can she be pro-life? Doesn't that mean she wants women to be repressed?" "Why did she name her kids such odd names?"
Here's my take on all these questions: I have no idea. You know why? I'm not Sara Palin. Hey, I wouldn't ever have considered such a high-powered job when my kids were babies; I wouldn't consider it now. But who cares what I would or wouldn't do? I'm not Sara. And I don't make judgements about what is the right choice for her.
The truth is, the "women's movement" - whatever that was - has proven to been ultimately pointless. If any of it really mattered, all of the questions being asked about Palin's "parent vs. candidate holding a very high-level office" would be posed to Barack Obama as well. But they're not. No one is concerned with how he will raise his children for the next four to eight years should he win this election and the next.
Oh, I get it. Because he's a dad. And only moms are important when it comes to raising their children. Dads don't matter. As long as they have their mothers, children will be just fine. And when women choose to "abandon" them - whether that's because they drop them at daycare or drop them in to the arms of the Secret Service - there is something deeply troubling about that woman. Clearly, she is not what a woman should be.
I'm so sick of this, I really am. Is that why women marched? So that in 2008, we could enthusiastically reconfirm the idea of Mom reigning supreme at the hearth while dad takes on the world?
Hey, if you hate Sara Palin's politics, don't vote for her. But please, please - can we stop the endless, useless debate about her looks, her accent, her hobbies, her home life, her childrens' names, her husband's activities, her parents, and her education? If this is how we decide an election, we're pathetic.
Yes, I vote and I follow campaigns, but not with the furor or enthusiasm of so many people I hear about in the news. And even if you never follow politics, you can't get away from it this year, at least in terms of the coverage the presidential campaign has been given over the past few weeks.
Sara Palin has divided this country like no politician I can remember in my lifetime. I get that - you either like her politics and views or you don't. And I also understand that as major party candidate in a very close race, she could be history-making if John McCain is elected president. But even given all that, what I don't understand is the viciousness of the attacks made upon her, the mockery made of her and her beliefs, the outrageous furor at the "audacity of hope" (to coin a phrase) she has adopted to even imagine she could serve in the office of vice president.
Let's leave her politics out of this particular discussion. If the rejection and dismay we were reading about and hearing about in the news were simply about her politics, the stories would have faded out of the headlines about two weeks ago. It's not about her politics. Some people simply hate the fact that she's in the race.
But it's not because she's a woman. People are not reacting to her being a woman; they are reacting with venom because she's not the right woman.
She's pro-life! She's conservative! Sure, she's a governor but jeez, it's Alaska for god's sake! What's so hard about governing Alaska? Who ever even thinks about Alaska? Does NOW like her? Does the ACLU like her? Does Barbra like her? What rock star is planning to throw a fundraiser in her honor?
And by the way, who gets to decide who is the right woman? Is it okay is if she's married? Can she be a mother? Must her children have achieved a certain age before she can hold a major office? Must her husband have a high-powered job? Must she have an Ivy League degree? Must she be an attorney? Hillary Clinton met all these "requirements" and look where that got her.
It kills me that women who claim to be liberal and free-thinking are horrified at her candidacy. "How can she be thinking of running for vice-president when she has a special-needs newborn?" "How can she be thinking of this when her teenage daughter turns up pregnant and not married?" "How can she imagine for one second that she is remotely qualified to hold this job and perform it well?" "How can she be pro-life? Doesn't that mean she wants women to be repressed?" "Why did she name her kids such odd names?"
Here's my take on all these questions: I have no idea. You know why? I'm not Sara Palin. Hey, I wouldn't ever have considered such a high-powered job when my kids were babies; I wouldn't consider it now. But who cares what I would or wouldn't do? I'm not Sara. And I don't make judgements about what is the right choice for her.
The truth is, the "women's movement" - whatever that was - has proven to been ultimately pointless. If any of it really mattered, all of the questions being asked about Palin's "parent vs. candidate holding a very high-level office" would be posed to Barack Obama as well. But they're not. No one is concerned with how he will raise his children for the next four to eight years should he win this election and the next.
Oh, I get it. Because he's a dad. And only moms are important when it comes to raising their children. Dads don't matter. As long as they have their mothers, children will be just fine. And when women choose to "abandon" them - whether that's because they drop them at daycare or drop them in to the arms of the Secret Service - there is something deeply troubling about that woman. Clearly, she is not what a woman should be.
I'm so sick of this, I really am. Is that why women marched? So that in 2008, we could enthusiastically reconfirm the idea of Mom reigning supreme at the hearth while dad takes on the world?
Hey, if you hate Sara Palin's politics, don't vote for her. But please, please - can we stop the endless, useless debate about her looks, her accent, her hobbies, her home life, her childrens' names, her husband's activities, her parents, and her education? If this is how we decide an election, we're pathetic.
Saturday, September 06, 2008
The (mis)Giving Tree
Shel Silverstein's children's classic, The Giving Tree, came to mind as we worked our way through the move to college. It's also mentioned in the book, Between Mothers and Sonsby Evelyn Bassoff, which I mentioned in the previous post. The idea that the familiar, protective, generous tree was always there for the boy - whenever he needed her - appealed to me as I helped my oldest move away.
I loved reading that book to the boys when they were younger. It tells the story of a boy who grows up literally under the shade and protection of a fruit tree that just keeps on giving. The generous tree gives everything from her leaves to her fruit to her trunk to the boy over the years, to help him achieve his dreams and deal with whatever he faced in life. At the end of the story, when the tree is nothing but a stump and the boy is an old man who has very little energy or interest in any new pursuits, they resume their mutually satisfying relationship, when the boy sits down to rest on the stump, and the tree is once again providing something for the boy.
It's a lovely story, and according to the flap notes, it's a "moving parable for readers of all ages that offers an affecting interpretation of the gift of giving and the serene acceptance of another's capacity to love in return."
That it is. But if you also accept Evelyn Bassoff's interpretation, it's a little troubling. The tree literally sacrifices its abilities (like its leaves, fruit, branches and trunk) and its very life to benefit the growth of the boy she loves so much. The boy loves the tree, too, but seems to have little conflict with his decisions to continue to take from her throughout his life.
I don't quite know how I feel about this. Supporting a child's dreams is something that most parents embrace without objection. The challenge, I guess, is figuring out when you've moved past that embrace into a stranglehold. Or how you separate that support from literally sacrificing yourself for the cause.
Over the past year or so, I've talked with parents - mothers mostly - who seemed very far down that "sacrifice all" road for the sake of their child. If I think as objectively as I can about my "career" as a mother, I think I'm pretty far from the Giving Tree model. In fact, I remember telling Trevor that I couldn't be the mom who was always there, always pitching in, always the first to volunteer and become a fixture at the school. I promised to do what I could but I had other interests and obligations that required my time.
He was fine with that.
The present-day equivalent of The Giving Tree is the helicopter parent who hovers just above the child, and maneuvers just close enough to manage every move that child makes. They sacrifice just as much as the tree, but somehow have lost that sense of generosity and humility that endears the tree to readers. They're replaced it with smugness and hubris.
I've enjoyed the various bits of success each of my children have experienced over the years because they were just that: their own success, not mine.
I hope they know they can always turn to me - or return to me as the case may be - for the support and love and hugs and nurturing they may need from time to time. But I also hope they know that sometimes I'll be the one who needs exactly the same from them. We can be a whole little grove of giving trees, thriving right beside each other.
I loved reading that book to the boys when they were younger. It tells the story of a boy who grows up literally under the shade and protection of a fruit tree that just keeps on giving. The generous tree gives everything from her leaves to her fruit to her trunk to the boy over the years, to help him achieve his dreams and deal with whatever he faced in life. At the end of the story, when the tree is nothing but a stump and the boy is an old man who has very little energy or interest in any new pursuits, they resume their mutually satisfying relationship, when the boy sits down to rest on the stump, and the tree is once again providing something for the boy.
It's a lovely story, and according to the flap notes, it's a "moving parable for readers of all ages that offers an affecting interpretation of the gift of giving and the serene acceptance of another's capacity to love in return."
That it is. But if you also accept Evelyn Bassoff's interpretation, it's a little troubling. The tree literally sacrifices its abilities (like its leaves, fruit, branches and trunk) and its very life to benefit the growth of the boy she loves so much. The boy loves the tree, too, but seems to have little conflict with his decisions to continue to take from her throughout his life.
I don't quite know how I feel about this. Supporting a child's dreams is something that most parents embrace without objection. The challenge, I guess, is figuring out when you've moved past that embrace into a stranglehold. Or how you separate that support from literally sacrificing yourself for the cause.
Over the past year or so, I've talked with parents - mothers mostly - who seemed very far down that "sacrifice all" road for the sake of their child. If I think as objectively as I can about my "career" as a mother, I think I'm pretty far from the Giving Tree model. In fact, I remember telling Trevor that I couldn't be the mom who was always there, always pitching in, always the first to volunteer and become a fixture at the school. I promised to do what I could but I had other interests and obligations that required my time.
He was fine with that.
The present-day equivalent of The Giving Tree is the helicopter parent who hovers just above the child, and maneuvers just close enough to manage every move that child makes. They sacrifice just as much as the tree, but somehow have lost that sense of generosity and humility that endears the tree to readers. They're replaced it with smugness and hubris.
I've enjoyed the various bits of success each of my children have experienced over the years because they were just that: their own success, not mine.
I hope they know they can always turn to me - or return to me as the case may be - for the support and love and hugs and nurturing they may need from time to time. But I also hope they know that sometimes I'll be the one who needs exactly the same from them. We can be a whole little grove of giving trees, thriving right beside each other.
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
The transition continues...
In her wonderful book, Between Mothers and Sons, psychologist Evelyn S. Bassoff, Ph.D., discusses the many and varied relationships that exist between women and their sons, from the functional and healthy to the truly debilitating.
While full of interesting and thoughtful insights into the inner workings of mothers and sons, I wanted to write the author a thank you note after reading the last chapter of the book, titled The Tranformation of Mother Love. The chapter is focused on the idea of mothers letting go of their sons, and the fact that western cultures have no ritual that signifies the separation of mother and child. Indeed, the woman who seemingly holds onto her children, full of support and unending comfort, is somewhat revered in our culture. As Bassoff writes, "In our culture, mothers who remain always available to their children, always the "essential" ones, are deified as the 'good mother,' while the mothers who discourage their children's dependence may be labeled 'cold' or 'unmotherly.' "
Truth be told, over the years as my children grew, I found myself feeling more like the "unmotherly" kind of mom, not the "essential" one. Make no mistake: I love them more than life. I can't imagine life without them and can't begin to express the joy and pure love they have ignited in me. But even given all that, I have always reserved a bit of myself along the way; I never spent much time wondering why, or even thinking about it objectively.
She goes on to talk about the fact that "letting go" is not a one-step procedure; it's a process that takes many years and many mini-steps to complete. Unfortunately, it's a process many women are not willing to endure.
Which brings us back to the topic at hand, the recent departure of my oldest child - my oldest son - for college. I find myself comtemplating the space that has left in my - in our family - in our home - and wonder if it will ever feel like it did. I wonder if it can. Or even, given Bassoff's analysis, if it should.
Turns out, this idea of separateness as a mother is a good one. In her research, Bassoff learned that the men who remain closest to and connected with their mothers as adults are men who were always aware - even on an unconscious level - that their mothers had lives apart from them.
I'm going to spend some time with this - think about how my own selfhood did or didn't have any impact on my own relationships with all three of my boys. I know I've spent countless hours torturing myself over what I always believed were incontrovertible mistakes in terms of raising my sons and having a career and interests beyond them. Maybe it wasn't quite the tragedy I've recreated in my memory.
More to come, on this, and how Shel Silverstein's book, The Giving Tree, may revealing more about one kind of motherhood than we ever thought possible.
While full of interesting and thoughtful insights into the inner workings of mothers and sons, I wanted to write the author a thank you note after reading the last chapter of the book, titled The Tranformation of Mother Love. The chapter is focused on the idea of mothers letting go of their sons, and the fact that western cultures have no ritual that signifies the separation of mother and child. Indeed, the woman who seemingly holds onto her children, full of support and unending comfort, is somewhat revered in our culture. As Bassoff writes, "In our culture, mothers who remain always available to their children, always the "essential" ones, are deified as the 'good mother,' while the mothers who discourage their children's dependence may be labeled 'cold' or 'unmotherly.' "
Truth be told, over the years as my children grew, I found myself feeling more like the "unmotherly" kind of mom, not the "essential" one. Make no mistake: I love them more than life. I can't imagine life without them and can't begin to express the joy and pure love they have ignited in me. But even given all that, I have always reserved a bit of myself along the way; I never spent much time wondering why, or even thinking about it objectively.
She goes on to talk about the fact that "letting go" is not a one-step procedure; it's a process that takes many years and many mini-steps to complete. Unfortunately, it's a process many women are not willing to endure.
Which brings us back to the topic at hand, the recent departure of my oldest child - my oldest son - for college. I find myself comtemplating the space that has left in my - in our family - in our home - and wonder if it will ever feel like it did. I wonder if it can. Or even, given Bassoff's analysis, if it should.
Turns out, this idea of separateness as a mother is a good one. In her research, Bassoff learned that the men who remain closest to and connected with their mothers as adults are men who were always aware - even on an unconscious level - that their mothers had lives apart from them.
I'm going to spend some time with this - think about how my own selfhood did or didn't have any impact on my own relationships with all three of my boys. I know I've spent countless hours torturing myself over what I always believed were incontrovertible mistakes in terms of raising my sons and having a career and interests beyond them. Maybe it wasn't quite the tragedy I've recreated in my memory.
More to come, on this, and how Shel Silverstein's book, The Giving Tree, may revealing more about one kind of motherhood than we ever thought possible.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Trying to make a transition - and so far, it ain't working
Okay.
So it's been 48 hours since we left our oldest son on his college campus and I hugged him (tightly) good-bye. I'm writing a column about this so I don't want to go too deeply into things here except to say this feels very, very weird.
He's been away before - but the short term nature of that absence made it feel much different. The truth is, this fall could be the beginning of his permanent move away. I know - we have summers coming up and time together on school breaks but he may in fact never really live her again. That just feels too strange to even contemplate.
I've said this before but I have to echo it here - I'm not ready for this. Could it really be time for this? Clearly, the calendar tells me it is. My heart tells me something different.
So it's been 48 hours since we left our oldest son on his college campus and I hugged him (tightly) good-bye. I'm writing a column about this so I don't want to go too deeply into things here except to say this feels very, very weird.
He's been away before - but the short term nature of that absence made it feel much different. The truth is, this fall could be the beginning of his permanent move away. I know - we have summers coming up and time together on school breaks but he may in fact never really live her again. That just feels too strange to even contemplate.
I've said this before but I have to echo it here - I'm not ready for this. Could it really be time for this? Clearly, the calendar tells me it is. My heart tells me something different.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Not like me. Not one bit.
What I don't understand about the viewers and voters who go wild with joy during convention speeches - coming from candidates on either side of the aisle - is this cold, stark reality that not one of them ever seems to contemplate: there is not one person on that stage who shares the middle class, lower middle class, or upper middle class lives that the viewers are living. Not one.
I'm not talking about someone's "humble beginnings." Yes, we've had some leaders that emerged from rather austere childhoods but let's face it. Once you've had a career in politics that was successful enough to land you in the national spotlight, I'm pretty sure you've left the habits of those humble beginnings pretty far behind. The last president I remember showing any vestiges of simple living was Jimmy Carter and he was criticized for taking the glamour away from the White House. (The glamour?) Rosalind Carter's book, First Lady from Plains, told quite a "fish out of water" story about their early days in Washington.
But getting back to the conventions and the candidates, I don't care how long and hard the speakers deliver their "I'm just like you" messages. Just isn't so. Every single candidate is wealthy, and privileged, and nothing like you and me.
So why do we buy it? Why do we feel like we have to connect on a supremely personal level with the politicians who want to sit at the top of the government's flow chart? Why can't we elect them without feeling the love?
The truth is, I don't care how much the president is "just like me." In fact, I hope the president is smarter, shrewder, and more collaborative than I. I want discerning, open-minded, experienced leadership in that office. I hope the president hires a staff (based on nothing but their ability, experience and character) who can execute the tasks at hand and knows when to stop micromanaging to let them do the work. I hope he or she has a track record of measurable, demonstrable, obvious success in something in this life beyond tireless campaigning and delivering rousing stump speeches.
How can a lifelong politician know anything about working in the private sector?? How does a senator who lives and works in Washington, DC, whose family lives housands of miles away, relate to the day-in, day-out challenge of raising children? (Spare me the long-distance connections and email and any other thing in defense of being involved with your children from a distance. Yes, you can be; it's certainly possible and lots of people do it.) But long-distance parenting - or even long-distance marriage - as a result of a political career by itself makes most politicians not like any of us.
Whatever happened to the idea that you don't have to like "the boss," as long as he or she does the job at hand - and then some - and treats you fairly? No one said you had to be best friends. No one said you had to simpatico to respect someone's leadership and talents.
I guess their deeper message of politicians who are "just like me" is more along the lines of this: I stand before you as the absolute embodiment of the best Americans can be. Sure, I used to be like you - but I've realized the dream. Through hard work and determination and gumption and guts and feistiness. You can, too.
Umm, no I can't. I can be the star of my own life, I guess, but other than that, I'm not going to be the next junior senator from Pennsylvania who becomes a presidential contender in 8 years.
As one of my sons put it, we can't all be the star. If we were who would sit in the audience and clap??
I'm not talking about someone's "humble beginnings." Yes, we've had some leaders that emerged from rather austere childhoods but let's face it. Once you've had a career in politics that was successful enough to land you in the national spotlight, I'm pretty sure you've left the habits of those humble beginnings pretty far behind. The last president I remember showing any vestiges of simple living was Jimmy Carter and he was criticized for taking the glamour away from the White House. (The glamour?) Rosalind Carter's book, First Lady from Plains, told quite a "fish out of water" story about their early days in Washington.
But getting back to the conventions and the candidates, I don't care how long and hard the speakers deliver their "I'm just like you" messages. Just isn't so. Every single candidate is wealthy, and privileged, and nothing like you and me.
So why do we buy it? Why do we feel like we have to connect on a supremely personal level with the politicians who want to sit at the top of the government's flow chart? Why can't we elect them without feeling the love?
The truth is, I don't care how much the president is "just like me." In fact, I hope the president is smarter, shrewder, and more collaborative than I. I want discerning, open-minded, experienced leadership in that office. I hope the president hires a staff (based on nothing but their ability, experience and character) who can execute the tasks at hand and knows when to stop micromanaging to let them do the work. I hope he or she has a track record of measurable, demonstrable, obvious success in something in this life beyond tireless campaigning and delivering rousing stump speeches.
How can a lifelong politician know anything about working in the private sector?? How does a senator who lives and works in Washington, DC, whose family lives housands of miles away, relate to the day-in, day-out challenge of raising children? (Spare me the long-distance connections and email and any other thing in defense of being involved with your children from a distance. Yes, you can be; it's certainly possible and lots of people do it.) But long-distance parenting - or even long-distance marriage - as a result of a political career by itself makes most politicians not like any of us.
Whatever happened to the idea that you don't have to like "the boss," as long as he or she does the job at hand - and then some - and treats you fairly? No one said you had to be best friends. No one said you had to simpatico to respect someone's leadership and talents.
I guess their deeper message of politicians who are "just like me" is more along the lines of this: I stand before you as the absolute embodiment of the best Americans can be. Sure, I used to be like you - but I've realized the dream. Through hard work and determination and gumption and guts and feistiness. You can, too.
Umm, no I can't. I can be the star of my own life, I guess, but other than that, I'm not going to be the next junior senator from Pennsylvania who becomes a presidential contender in 8 years.
As one of my sons put it, we can't all be the star. If we were who would sit in the audience and clap??
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Who let what happen?
I read the update of the sentence handed down to Timothy Gearhart this week, who was convicted of third-degree murder and conspiracy to commit aggravated assault, after attacking and killing Kutztown University sophomore Kyle Quinn last fall.
Speaking to the court, Gearhart apologized to Kyle Quinn's family and to his own, saying a night of ''overindulgence'' was partly to blame for his actions. He'd spent the eveing with friends in a bar.
According to the news report, the court learned the following from Gearhart: ''I didn't mean to hurt so many people. I do not know why God allowed this to happen. For the past year, I have thought of your son every day and will for the rest of my life.''
Why God allowed this to happen? Why God did? I'm pretty sure the God familiar to many people of faith, regardless of their individual beliefs, had no part in what took place at about 2:30 in the morning on Main Street in Kutztown. God wasn't dangling the puppet strings that night, watching Timothy and his two drunken friends, brothers Kenneth and Terry Kline, execute some macabre dance steps that ended in violence and death.
I believe Tim Gearhart will think of Kyle Quinn everyday for the rest of his life. That horrifying moment on Main Street that happened after last call last year cast a long, unending shadow over the lives of many, many people. Most of them will live out their lives thinking of Kyle everyday as well, never quite understanding why or how this happened. Tim says he will, too, and even though he has a minimum of twenty years to contemplate his answer, I don't think he'll come up with one for Kyle's family and friends.
But I hope he gets to the point where he recognizes that God - in whatever form God takes for him - was clearly absent from the actions he chose to take on Main Street in Kutztown last year.
Speaking to the court, Gearhart apologized to Kyle Quinn's family and to his own, saying a night of ''overindulgence'' was partly to blame for his actions. He'd spent the eveing with friends in a bar.
According to the news report, the court learned the following from Gearhart: ''I didn't mean to hurt so many people. I do not know why God allowed this to happen. For the past year, I have thought of your son every day and will for the rest of my life.''
Why God allowed this to happen? Why God did? I'm pretty sure the God familiar to many people of faith, regardless of their individual beliefs, had no part in what took place at about 2:30 in the morning on Main Street in Kutztown. God wasn't dangling the puppet strings that night, watching Timothy and his two drunken friends, brothers Kenneth and Terry Kline, execute some macabre dance steps that ended in violence and death.
I believe Tim Gearhart will think of Kyle Quinn everyday for the rest of his life. That horrifying moment on Main Street that happened after last call last year cast a long, unending shadow over the lives of many, many people. Most of them will live out their lives thinking of Kyle everyday as well, never quite understanding why or how this happened. Tim says he will, too, and even though he has a minimum of twenty years to contemplate his answer, I don't think he'll come up with one for Kyle's family and friends.
But I hope he gets to the point where he recognizes that God - in whatever form God takes for him - was clearly absent from the actions he chose to take on Main Street in Kutztown last year.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Curlers? Really?
I drove through some kind of time warp on the way home from work. For reasons I won't go into, I'' stuck scrolling thorugh radio stations these days to hear some music these days, and rarely pause on a station that's not broadcasting a song.
But, for some reason, I did stick on a station long enough to listen to a GEICO commerical today. One of the selling points was that anyone can, in fact, meet with a GEICO representative face-to-face should you desire to do so. Their business is not entirely online or over the phone. That is, unless you want it to be.
On the other hand, the friendly announcer let me know that if face-to-face won't work - because maybe I'm in curlers or something like that - the phone works just fine.
Curlers? I can't make an appointment with GEICO because I'm wearing curlers? He may be confusing me with Lucy Ricardo or Laura Petrie. Who on god's green earth wears curlers these days - especially long enough to be held captive in her house while her curlers take effect? Are you kidding me?
I'm sort of serious. If there is a woman out there who is taken out of the mainstream regularly and has to arrange her schedule around her curler-wearing habits, I want to meet her. I really do. And I want to take a really close look at your hair. If you're devoting curler time to it, it'd better be gorgeous.
GEICO is losing their clever edge if this is what passes for amusing these days.
But, for some reason, I did stick on a station long enough to listen to a GEICO commerical today. One of the selling points was that anyone can, in fact, meet with a GEICO representative face-to-face should you desire to do so. Their business is not entirely online or over the phone. That is, unless you want it to be.
On the other hand, the friendly announcer let me know that if face-to-face won't work - because maybe I'm in curlers or something like that - the phone works just fine.
Curlers? I can't make an appointment with GEICO because I'm wearing curlers? He may be confusing me with Lucy Ricardo or Laura Petrie. Who on god's green earth wears curlers these days - especially long enough to be held captive in her house while her curlers take effect? Are you kidding me?
I'm sort of serious. If there is a woman out there who is taken out of the mainstream regularly and has to arrange her schedule around her curler-wearing habits, I want to meet her. I really do. And I want to take a really close look at your hair. If you're devoting curler time to it, it'd better be gorgeous.
GEICO is losing their clever edge if this is what passes for amusing these days.
the elephant in the room
I've read several news stories and updates over the past few weeks, updating the allegations and charges against three Shenandoah teens. According to the lastest story, Judge Anthony Kilker confirmed that there was sufficient evidence against Colin Walsh, 17, and Brandon Piekarsky, 16, to try them on counts of third-degree murder and ethnic intimidation. Because there is no longer first- and second-degree murder charges against them, these young men will not face possible life in prison sentences if convicted.
The judge also ruled that Derrick Donchak, 18, was ordered to stand trial on aggravated assault.
These young men were involved in an attack that resulted in the death of Luis Ramirez, age 25.
This crime is tragic. And sickening. And clearly a case of young people who acted irratonally and outrageously in the face of an incendiary situation. For reasons only swaggering young men can understand, they overpowered and attacked another young man whom they encountered in a park, in the compnay of a youhng woman. Throw in a racial slur and a "hate crime" component and you have a situation that exploded into violence and murder.
Here's the elephant in the room.
Whatever happened to Joseph P. McTiernan? McTierman, 23, of Mahanoy City, furnished alcohol to these underage men gave alcohol to Donchak, Walsh, and Piekarsky, as well as two other underage men.
I simply can't understand why he is getting away with this. I'm inclined to believe a case could be made on behalf of the young men, including the one who dealt Ramirez his final blow, that absent the alcohol, their swagger and intimidation would have been dialed down quite a few notches that fateful night. They may have called out insults; they may have evn done a little "in your face" shouting...but murder? Literally kicking a man while he was down?
That's beer guts. Or in this case, malt liquor guts. They deserve to be heard in court but if the eyewitnesses are telling the truth, I also believe they deserve to punished according to the law. But so does McTiernan. He broke the law that initiated this horrible event.
The judge also ruled that Derrick Donchak, 18, was ordered to stand trial on aggravated assault.
These young men were involved in an attack that resulted in the death of Luis Ramirez, age 25.
This crime is tragic. And sickening. And clearly a case of young people who acted irratonally and outrageously in the face of an incendiary situation. For reasons only swaggering young men can understand, they overpowered and attacked another young man whom they encountered in a park, in the compnay of a youhng woman. Throw in a racial slur and a "hate crime" component and you have a situation that exploded into violence and murder.
Here's the elephant in the room.
Whatever happened to Joseph P. McTiernan? McTierman, 23, of Mahanoy City, furnished alcohol to these underage men gave alcohol to Donchak, Walsh, and Piekarsky, as well as two other underage men.
I simply can't understand why he is getting away with this. I'm inclined to believe a case could be made on behalf of the young men, including the one who dealt Ramirez his final blow, that absent the alcohol, their swagger and intimidation would have been dialed down quite a few notches that fateful night. They may have called out insults; they may have evn done a little "in your face" shouting...but murder? Literally kicking a man while he was down?
That's beer guts. Or in this case, malt liquor guts. They deserve to be heard in court but if the eyewitnesses are telling the truth, I also believe they deserve to punished according to the law. But so does McTiernan. He broke the law that initiated this horrible event.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Once again, Olympic confusion
I'm not one of those people who goes Olympic crazy everytime the Olympics come to life and take over everyone's entire existence for about three weeks before fading away for a few years. So as a result of my only very casual interest, I don't have tons of Olympic facts at hand, like those people who are superfans and know every statistic, every athlete, every backstory, every nuance of competition.
With all that said, I have a question or two. I've watched very little television coverage but a few puzzling thoughts immediately occured to me:
Synchronized diving? Isn't it enough that someone can execute these amazing dives as an individual? Why do two divers have to match? Who said doing this side by side is worth judging? Is there a reason synchronization is connected to water competition? Why not synchronized pole vaulting? Synchronized archery? Synchronized curling in the Winter Olympics?
More pressing is this: why are the male swimmers wearing more fabric on their bodies than the female beach volleyball players? I know. Something about slickness and cutting through the water with very little drag that results in faster times and new world records. But what could the volleyball "uniforms" - and I use that term in the same way someone could call lingerie "pajamas" - possibly be contributing to their performace as athletes? The female volleyball players are wearing bras and bikini pants. Is there a reason wearing shorts and tops would have a negative impact on their games?
Hey - that sand isn't all that soft. In fact, I'm guessing it can be pretty abrasive so wouldn't the players welcome bike shorts and tank tops? The male volleyball players wear shorts and tank tops.
Well, I'm not some enormous volleyball fan and maybe there is some compelling reason the women are on display in fairly revealing "uniforms," but if you're going to outfit the women in tight, tiny underwear, I say the men should play in their skins -no shirts. I've never seen men play volleyball wearing clothing on the top half of their bodies. In fact, the Olympics is probably the only venue on the planet where men do wear shirts to play volleyball.
I'm sure I'll have more puzzling thoughts about the Olympics in the weeks to come. If I get a chance to post them, I will. And welcome your thoughts as well!
With all that said, I have a question or two. I've watched very little television coverage but a few puzzling thoughts immediately occured to me:
Synchronized diving? Isn't it enough that someone can execute these amazing dives as an individual? Why do two divers have to match? Who said doing this side by side is worth judging? Is there a reason synchronization is connected to water competition? Why not synchronized pole vaulting? Synchronized archery? Synchronized curling in the Winter Olympics?
More pressing is this: why are the male swimmers wearing more fabric on their bodies than the female beach volleyball players? I know. Something about slickness and cutting through the water with very little drag that results in faster times and new world records. But what could the volleyball "uniforms" - and I use that term in the same way someone could call lingerie "pajamas" - possibly be contributing to their performace as athletes? The female volleyball players are wearing bras and bikini pants. Is there a reason wearing shorts and tops would have a negative impact on their games?
Hey - that sand isn't all that soft. In fact, I'm guessing it can be pretty abrasive so wouldn't the players welcome bike shorts and tank tops? The male volleyball players wear shorts and tank tops.
Well, I'm not some enormous volleyball fan and maybe there is some compelling reason the women are on display in fairly revealing "uniforms," but if you're going to outfit the women in tight, tiny underwear, I say the men should play in their skins -no shirts. I've never seen men play volleyball wearing clothing on the top half of their bodies. In fact, the Olympics is probably the only venue on the planet where men do wear shirts to play volleyball.
I'm sure I'll have more puzzling thoughts about the Olympics in the weeks to come. If I get a chance to post them, I will. And welcome your thoughts as well!
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
What is it they say about statistics, again?
A few weeks ago, on April 29 to be exact, The NYT ran a troubling article that recapped the torturous last days of college admission being endured by anxious high school seniors across the country.
According to the article, by Tara Parker Pope, this year's class of applicants faced some pretty tough competition and it's only going to get worse. One of the numbers cited is that 90% of the applicants to Harvard and Yale were rejected.
Unfortunately for many seniors, the arrival of that fat acceptance letter is their ticket to legitimacy. It proves that they are successful. In cases where the envelopes are slim and the news is not so good, students are suffering severely. The article quotes doctors and teachers who report sleeplessness, stomach pain and headaches among seniors who are facing rejection from a favored school.
The most troubling part of the story was this quote, from Denise Pope of Standford University: "...some of these kids have had college on the brain since sixth or seventh grade or even earlier. [emphasis mine] When you have that kind of stress over that kind of time, that's where it starts to worry us."
I'm sorry but if there is even one child out there who begins stressing about college acceptance at the age of 9, we are really doing something wrong.
One story recounted the perfect SAT scores of a student, a young man who rowed crew, played golf, performed in the school musical and thanked third in his class. Good kid, right? Nice catch for any school, right? He was rejected by both Stanford and Princeton.
Luckily, he was pragmatic about the news. As he put it, "I realize I didn't found a company or discover a new insect. I feel like it's coming to a point where you have to do something like that to get into schools like Princeton or Stanford."
That may be true; it seems like he would have been an asset to any number of schools, including those two.
But according to another story I read, we shouldn't be surprised by his news. Another Times article, this one from April 1, reported that "Elite Colleges Reporting Record Lows in Admission." Interesting, I thought. I wonder why?
I read the article to find out. Turns out, elite colleges are not admitting fewer students. It's just that more students are applying than in the past so the numbers look lower. The percentage of students being admitted is nearly the same as it's always been. Here are the numbers:
Yale College accepted 8.3% of its 22,813 applicants. Wow - seems very tough indeed.
In order to prove the point about record lows in admission, they compared this figure to the numbers Yale reported ten years ago. At that time, "slightly fewer than 12,000 students applied to Yale, but the admittance rate was nearly 18%."
Ummmm - calling all Math 101 professors. 8.3% of 22,813 applicants is 1,893. 17.8% (nearly 18%) of 11,850 (slightly fewer than 12,000) is 2,109. (Both those percentages and totals are my estimates based on the information at hand.) So let me understand this: a difference of 216 students is the basis for these "record low" admissions?
I think the article took the wrong approach to this information. For me, the question is this: In 2008, why did some 10,000 more students applying to college believe they were Yale material? Are they that much smarter than they were in 1998? If you watch the SAT reports each year, the answer is no - the numbers are going down.
So what is it? Can you spell entitlement? Somehow, I think that applies here.
According to the article, by Tara Parker Pope, this year's class of applicants faced some pretty tough competition and it's only going to get worse. One of the numbers cited is that 90% of the applicants to Harvard and Yale were rejected.
Unfortunately for many seniors, the arrival of that fat acceptance letter is their ticket to legitimacy. It proves that they are successful. In cases where the envelopes are slim and the news is not so good, students are suffering severely. The article quotes doctors and teachers who report sleeplessness, stomach pain and headaches among seniors who are facing rejection from a favored school.
The most troubling part of the story was this quote, from Denise Pope of Standford University: "...some of these kids have had college on the brain since sixth or seventh grade or even earlier. [emphasis mine] When you have that kind of stress over that kind of time, that's where it starts to worry us."
I'm sorry but if there is even one child out there who begins stressing about college acceptance at the age of 9, we are really doing something wrong.
One story recounted the perfect SAT scores of a student, a young man who rowed crew, played golf, performed in the school musical and thanked third in his class. Good kid, right? Nice catch for any school, right? He was rejected by both Stanford and Princeton.
Luckily, he was pragmatic about the news. As he put it, "I realize I didn't found a company or discover a new insect. I feel like it's coming to a point where you have to do something like that to get into schools like Princeton or Stanford."
That may be true; it seems like he would have been an asset to any number of schools, including those two.
But according to another story I read, we shouldn't be surprised by his news. Another Times article, this one from April 1, reported that "Elite Colleges Reporting Record Lows in Admission." Interesting, I thought. I wonder why?
I read the article to find out. Turns out, elite colleges are not admitting fewer students. It's just that more students are applying than in the past so the numbers look lower. The percentage of students being admitted is nearly the same as it's always been. Here are the numbers:
Yale College accepted 8.3% of its 22,813 applicants. Wow - seems very tough indeed.
In order to prove the point about record lows in admission, they compared this figure to the numbers Yale reported ten years ago. At that time, "slightly fewer than 12,000 students applied to Yale, but the admittance rate was nearly 18%."
Ummmm - calling all Math 101 professors. 8.3% of 22,813 applicants is 1,893. 17.8% (nearly 18%) of 11,850 (slightly fewer than 12,000) is 2,109. (Both those percentages and totals are my estimates based on the information at hand.) So let me understand this: a difference of 216 students is the basis for these "record low" admissions?
I think the article took the wrong approach to this information. For me, the question is this: In 2008, why did some 10,000 more students applying to college believe they were Yale material? Are they that much smarter than they were in 1998? If you watch the SAT reports each year, the answer is no - the numbers are going down.
So what is it? Can you spell entitlement? Somehow, I think that applies here.
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