My World With Words

May 23, 2016May 23, 2016

A Blogger’s Worst Nightmare (or one of them)

Oh my…it’s happened…my computer has died. I’m creating my first post on my smart phone (a little bit scary since I don’t see all the same buttons, bells and whistles, plus there’s that darn autocorrect — and what happens when the phone rings?). So now I’m scrambling to find the money for a new computer and cursing the universe because that money should be going into savings or toward a new sofa.

All the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put my computer back together again. © Fotolia

Life isn’t fair sometimes.

I got this job house-sitting not long ago, and it paid well. I was thrilled. I needed some dental work, and when you need dental work, you need it. It was a little disappointing the money couldn’t have been used for something more fun, but c’est la vie. I refused to be grateful and resentful at the same time. (It did take me a remarkably long time to make that dental appointment, though.)

However, now I’m stuck realizing lightning doesn’t strike twice, nor do I want it to. I had to move my cats with me for the house-sitting, and I can’t do that to them again. So getting a new computer may take some time.

But that’s life, I guess. (I’m saying that a lot, aren’t I?) I’m not happy about it, but I can’t waste time whining. Because right now I have to figure out how to get images on this post. And a caption with the image so it makes sense. If it isn’t one thing…

May 22, 2016March 25, 2017

Thank You, Fellow Bloggers

Well, I had a delightful surprise this evening.

First, (I’m creating a little suspense here) the not-so-delightful part of my evening: I spent 100,000 hours battling the dreaded Blue Screen of Death that kept crashing my computer. The battle may not be over, or I may have solved the problem…it remains to be seen. For the moment, anyhow, I’m up and running, and not cursing.

Not cursing, because, I checked out the blog of one of my new followers, Hopeless Hannah, and at first was just tickled by several of her posts, especially one describing a device that allows cats to talk to us (I’ll let you visit her site yourself for more on that topic).

Then I discovered she paid me the high compliment of listing my blog under her post titled 10 Bloody Good Blogs About Life, Art & Sexism. Mine is a Bloody Good Blog! Woo-Hoo!

woo-hoo Now, I am an award-free blog, but I’ll go for a listing like this anytime!

And yes, it’s self-serving to write this post, but that wasn’t (entirely) why I wrote it. Blogging is so important to me. I love to write, and while I’m seeking further outlets for my writing, as of now, this is my main showcase. It gives me an endless opportunity to write (well, sort of endless, I do have to work, feed the cats, walk the dogs, and all of that), and I get immediate feedback from people I’ve come to respect and admire, my fellow bloggers.

You have made a world of difference to me at a time in my life when it counted most.

Thank you, Hannah, and thank you to all of my followers, as well as the now-and-then visitors who happen by. I value all of you.

And hey, the computer hasn’t crashed since I started writing this post…that’s a good sign…

May 21, 2016April 26, 2017

Every Word, Every Drop

Once I was grocery shopping with my friend Pam and her then four-year-old daughter Macy, who was nearly jumping out of the shopping cart seat in excitement at every turn.

“Ooooo!” she’d say, “I want THAT!” Another few steps, “And that! and that!” In vain, Pam tried telling her they didn’t have the money to buy all those things. I decided to step in.

“You know Macy, there are lots of things I’d like to have, too,” I began. “I’d really like a new dress, and some shoes to go with it. Maybe some earrings. But I can’t afford it right now, so I just put it on a list for someday.”

“But I want THAT!” Macy insisted.

Pam sighed. “There are lots of things I want, too, and things Daddy would like,” she said, “but we can’t have everything we want.”

“I’d really like some new makeup,” I went on, maybe pushing it a little. “And a new car. Wow, I’d really like a new car. One with air conditioning.”

Macy was looking skeptical. With her eyes narrowed, she put her hands on her hips and stared at us. “What you two need,” she said sternly, “is a piggybank.”

Piggy bank manager

We burst out laughing. Macy didn’t get anything she wanted that day, but she was the star of evening as we told the story again and again.

Since that time I’ve thought of that shopping trip and realized something rather important: Macy knew about saving money. As frustrated as Pam may have been with her daughter’s demands, when push came to shove, the kid had the answer. Mom was doing something right.

I wonder how many times parents get fed up with their children’s words and actions and wonder if they’re doing any good at all. They see other kids in the neighborhood seemingly doing so much better, maybe, or their nieces and nephews are the family stars. Is anything getting through?

It’s getting through. It’s all getting through. It may seem futile at the moment, but the words — and actions — are sinking in.

When I was about five, my parents decided to teach me a little about money. I’d been getting an allowance, a small amount, all in pennies. They brought me to the kitchen table, where there was a pile of pennies on one side, and a dollar bill on the other.

I was told there were 100 pennies, which were worth the same as the dollar bill. I could have either the 100 pennies or the dollar bill, but it was important I understood they were worth the same.

No problem. Got it. Give me the dollar bill. I’d never had currency before.

My parents were certain that in my fascination with that dollar bill, I’d missed the lesson. I hadn’t. I’d grasped it quite quickly, in fact.

You never know what’s going on your child’s mind, but they’re hearing every word. That’s a comfort and a warning, I guess.

You can’t be there to make decisions for them, and they’ll make some mistakes, regardless of all your good words. But you’re laying a foundation and they’ll be building the house, so make it a good foundation.

Because it never stops making a difference. You never stop making a difference.

Photo Credits: (Piggy Bank Manager) © BCFC — Bigstock; (Two Girls) © zagorodnaya — Fotolia

May 20, 2016July 4, 2017

That One’s On Me

“Always acknowledge a fault. This will throw those in authority off their guard and give you an opportunity to commit more.”
― Mark Twain

Back when I was a reporter, there was a loyal yet somewhat annoying group of readers who picked apart every article and never hesitated to send us a daily critique of our mistakes, real or perceived. Somehow, I’d been lucky enough to miss out on most of their assessments. My fellow reporters, one in particular, made enough errors to keep them busy.

But one day it happened. I got the e-mail, or rather, my editor did. She called me in. “Sorry,” she said. “I don’t even know if he’s right or you’re right. Check your notes.”

I looked at the story. Damn. I’d made a mistake, pure and simple.

“Nope, it’s my mistake,” I told her. “I’ll return the e-mail.”

“Keep it short,” she advised. “Don’t say more than you have to.”

I kept it honest. “Dear Mr. Smith,” I wrote. “Thank you for your e-mail pointing out my error in today’s paper. You were right, it should read ‘this way‘ and not ‘that way.‘ While it’s not an excuse for my mistake, maybe a little explanation would help here. When I was writing the story, I thought the second sentence in paragraph three would work better if I switched it with the second sentence in paragraph two. The problem was, the transition sentence, the first sentence in paragraph three, was then incorrect. I apologize and we will run a correction in tomorrow’s paper.”

“Good luck,” the other reporters told me. “Mr. Smith is a jerk.”

smileys pixabay Well, so be it. I sent off the e-mail. Not three minutes later I received a call. It was Mr. Smith.

“I don’t care that you made the mistake,” he said. “We all make mistakes. But you’re the first reporter to admit it. I usually get a bunch of crazy excuses with the blame placed anywhere but on the reporter.”

I thanked Mr. Smith and smiled. It wasn’t the first mistake I’d made, and it likely wouldn’t be the last. But admitting it gave me the freedom to make more without someone calling me a fool, or losing their respect.

It also kept them off my back.

May 19, 2016May 20, 2017

Step It Up

A fellow blogger, Amy Punt, someone I follow for her thoughtful, outspoken, edgy viewpoint, spoke to the ongoing problem women have being heard when they speak out against powerful, popular men.

They’re readily dismissed as attention-seekers or worse, and it can take a lot of substantial evidence before we’re willing to give up our idyllic beliefs about our favorite celebrities. A lot of evidence about some really perverse things.

She also wrote about her hope the millennials will step up and take a stand against this behavior. It got me to thinking about my first job, age 18, at one of the top banks in the nation. (I won’t say the name because things have changed way too much since then, and what I’m about to describe certainly doesn’t reflect their standards today. They’d be sued to high heaven.)

AdobeStock_106268046 Young Woman Retro Sm — Fortunately not all women in the 60s and 70s just put up with their boss’s behavior.

My boss, the operations manager, would ask me over to his desk for trivial reasons, just so he could watch me walk away. He liked the way I walked, and made no secret of it. When I objected, the asst. operations manager, a woman, called me aside and had a long talk with me, telling me to “stop being so uptight” and “get over it.” I never did, but I did shut up.

This was 1978, the height of the women’s movement. A lot had changed, but obviously we had a long way to go. Eight years later the Supreme Court found sexual harassment to be illegal, and included “unwelcome conduct” or anything that “created an abusive working environment” as sexual harassment.

More importantly, most people today would consider my boss’s behavior unacceptable. There’s no undercurrent of thinking that the law or company policies (many which are more exacting than the law) are too strict. Yes, the men may like the way the women walk, but they’re smart enough to keep quiet about it, or tell only select others. We can’t stop the thoughts, but the actions can be controlled.

That’s not to say it’s perfect out there, I know. I hear plenty of stories about sexual harassment, some subtle, some blatant, in work places all around me. But it’s better, much, much better.

AdobeStock_52714204 Young Woman Sm — Think of the fight she fought — and where we might be if women didn’t have the vote today.

The 1960s and into the 70s was an era of activism, heavy-duty, life-altering, extreme activism. We haven’t really seen that sort of push for change in the decades since, although some change has come. With this new generation stepping up, maybe we’ll move forward in our thinking once again at the kind of radical level we saw once before.

No amount of persuasive talk is going to change some people’s minds about some things. However, sometimes all it takes is intelligent people speaking up and letting loose all the other smart people who think the same thing but believe they’re alone in their convictions. Keep it up, Amy, you’re smart and you have something to say. We’re listening.

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: