Would You Walk a Mile for a …

Posted on September 5, 2011 by Coming East

A few days ago we had a lovely morning that was dry and in the low seventies, so I decided to walk to the YMCA for my yoga class.  As I was walking, the old cigarette ad popped into my head, “I’d walk a mile for a _____” If you completed this with the word “Camel,” then you are as old as I am.  Ads kept popping into my head.  “Winston tastes good like a cigarette should.”  “Fly the friendly skies of United.”

Those ads and this time of year made me miss being a classroom teacher because I always started out the school year with a unit on propaganda before we began reading Animal Farm.  I explained to my students how propagandists, which include advertisers, must gain people’s trust and appeal to them emotionally.  We went through all the different emotional appeals and then watched commercials so the kids could identify what techniques a particular ad was using.  Every four years my propaganda unit took on even more significance as I added the study of the presidential election into the unit.  My students had to watch political advertisements and speeches and identify the propaganda techniques that were used.  They were asked to check what was said against the facts, if they were able to find any facts they could substantiate.  Many times they said it wasn’t necessarily that the politician lied but that he or she only told one side of the story.  What was left out was just as important as what was put in.

At the end of the school year I asked my students to tell me what had meant the most to them of all they had learned.  What would they take to the grave?  Invariably, my students told me that the propaganda unit had the most lasting effect on them because it made them start thinking for themselves instead of believing something because their parents believed it or friends or because they heard it through the media or out of the mouth of someone they believed was important.  Hallelujah!  Music to a teacher’s ears.

I wonder how many adults think as deeply as my students?  I can’t help but wonder, as the political campaigns get under way, how many people are really thinking for themselves or are being sucked in by clever propaganda from the political parties and media spin?  How many people always vote Democrat because… well, they just always have.  Same for the Republicans.  Do those people think that particular party always has the best answers?  Do they believe most of what they hear on TV or read in the paper without checking facts?  And where do we find those facts, facts not filtered through people’s biases?  Is that even possible?

Anyway, it’s just a thought.  Those ad campaigns were pretty effective.  If you were smoking Camels, I don’t know how you could possibly walk a mile, but they were about the most popular cigarettes for men at one time.  Made men look rugged and manly.

Just remember the difference between education and propaganda:  Education teaches you how to think; propaganda tells you what to think.  Use your head during this political season.  Your country is counting on you.

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The Empty Nest Blues

Posted on September 1, 2011 by Coming East

September 1.  Another school year has begun.  My grandchildren start next week and I know their mama is going to shed a little tear or two.  I know because I’ve weathered that emptiness before.  I remember helping our oldest son settle into his new home as a freshman at the University of Texas at Austin.  My husband and I were driving back to San Antonio, and I couldn’t keep from crying as I thought about how much I was going to miss him.

“How about stopping at the outlet stores in San Marcos,” my husband asked.  “If I buy you a new outfit, will that help?”

“Well,” I said, my voice quavering, “maybe it might make me feel a teensy bit better.

As soon as we arrived home, I called my friend Linda who had just taken her son to the University of New Hampshire.  “How many boxes of tissue did you go through on the drive home?” I asked.

“Oh, only one,” she replied.  “The tears stopped as soon as we reached the outlet stores in Kittery, Maine.”

For all of you teary-eyed moms out there who have just sent your babies off to college, or for those of you who are dreading when that day comes, I wanted to leave you with a song I wrote years ago when my youngest child left home to join his brother in Austin.  Since we are a family of musicians (my husband plays the radio), I thought it was appropriate to write a song in “honor” of them and our parting.  I’d sing it for you, accompanying myself on my baritone ukelele, but I haven’t mastered the YouTube thing yet, so you’ll have to be satisfied with the words.

Don’t think I sit at home and cry without you,
There’s plenty more to life than being your mom.
I hardly think about you up in Austin,
Or did I hear you say you’re going to Guam?

Don’t think you left my heartstrings raw and bleeding.
These tears are for the joy of being free.
In fact don’t call or write, I’m much too busy
Figuring out my new identity.

Don’t think of coming home except to visit,
I’ve rented out your room for pocket change.
The man who’s living there reads Shakespeare naked.
Now don’t you think that’s just a little strange?

Now if you think I’m just a tad hard on you,
Remember I’m your mom who loves you so.
And should you choose to come by for a visit,
Be careful, ’cause I may not let you go.

I’m still missing you, my Treasures!

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Weekly Photo Challenge: Up

Posted on August 31, 2011 by Coming East

I love pictures of buildings.  Here are some I took in New York City while I was looking up.

This makes me dizzy. How about you? I would have gotten a better picture, but I wasn't allowed to stand.

I like the reflection of one in the other.

More reflections

Like a bird on a wire...

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I’ll Always Be Thankful to Frisch’s Big Boy

Posted on August 30, 2011 by Coming East

The RemembeRed memoir assignment this week,  from Write on Edge,  is to write about a memory of ourselves WITH someone else. Word limit, 600 or less. A way to start: His/her name was ______________________ and looking back now, I realize….

I had two sisters when I was growing up.  The first, Karen, was born when I was seven and a half.  The other I acquired on my first day of ninth grade when I was thirteen .  Linda was a new face at school, and when I discovered she had moved to our little Connecticut town from Ohio, I chased after her after class.  Breathless, I caught up to her on the stairs and blurted out, “I visit my grandparents in Ohio every summer.  I love to eat at Frisch’s Big Boy.”  The first of many scintillating conversations.  That’s all it took for us to make a connection and become best friends.

All through high school we practically lived at each other’s houses.  We threw parties nearly once a month, homemade pizza parties at her house, sloppy joes parties at mine.  One time we gave each of our invited guests a puzzle piece which they had to match with another guest to see whom they were paired with for that night.  Of course, it was just a ploy so we could get the boys we wanted.

We learned to sew dirndl skirts with one yard of fabric gathered onto an elastic waist (skirts were very short in those days)  and had closets full of polished cotton dirndl skirts.  When I complained of my frizzy red Orphan-Annie hair, Linda was there to iron it straight for me.  We shared our deepest longings and fears and insecurities, our hopes and dreams, our joys and sorrows.  We grew from children into women.

A year after we both graduated from the University of Connecticut, we took one last trip together as single women.  Linda was to marry in a few weeks and I was to follow six months later.  We knew our friendship would remain strong, but we were moving into a new phase of our lives.  Things would inevitably be different.

We went to Cape Cod and stayed in a motel in West Yarmouth.  We rented bikes and rode around Hyannis Port.  We ate lobster until we thought we’d burst. I have several pictures of that trip, all on slides so I can’t hold them in my hand.  But I don’t need them to remember that time, for it is indelibly written in my heart.   It was a good way to say good-bye to a part of our lives we had cherished.

Linda and me on her wedding day

But the story doesn’t end here.  When my sister, Karen, died, Linda was the first person I called.  Her words to me still ring in my ears.  “Oh, Susan, I am so sorry.  I’m coming.”

Recently I told Linda we were planning on renting a cottage on Cape Cod next summer so we can have all our children and grandchildren together.  Linda e-mailed back, “We want to crash your party on the Cape!!!!  Can we be a part of the family?  We’re like sisters, aren’t we?”  No, Linda, we’re not like sisters.  We are sisters.

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Can We Get Back to Normal Now?

Posted on August 29, 2011 by Coming East

Last week was a strange week.  We had both an earthquake and a hurricane.  Mother Nature can be quite entertaining.  The earthquake was a surprise because it is rather an unusual occurrence on the East Coast, especially one of that magnitude, 5.8.  I was sitting on the couch, minding my own business, when the couch and I began swaying side to side.  Then the blinds were swaying back and forth and the light over the kitchen table was swinging merrily.  Hmmm….I said to myself; we’re having an earthquake (I’m a quick study).  I immediately (well, after the room stopped rocking) turned the TV on and, sure enough, the earthquake was all over the news, on every channel.  Maybe not on HGTV.  Nothing pre-empts HGTV.

Friday afternoon my husband came home early from work so we could finish stocking up on water and other essentials before Hurricane Irene hit.  We went down to the Oceanfront to see if the waves were picking up, which they were.  Businesses were boarded up and the news truck was out.

Early Saturday morning, around 3 A.M. we were awoken by torrential rain.  We managed to get a few more hours of sleep and finally arose at 6:00 and went downstairs to make some coffee and listen to the wind howl.  We kept our power until sometime in the afternoon.   We sat by the window in what little light it afforded and played Chinese checkers and drank wine.    The worst of the storm hit us about 8 P.M.  When it became obvious that we had escaped any major problems, we went to bed, lulled by the still fierce winds.

Sunday morning, with all the churches closed, we went down to the Oceanfront again, early, to survey the damage.  The fishing pier was damaged and the beach was littered with debris, but the beach was in much better shape than it had been two years ago when we were hit with a devastating Nor’easter.  Though the angry sea was no longer angry, it still yielded some beautiful waves, and the surfers were out in force.

Early Sunday evening we went back to the Oceanfront for my usual Sunday night Dairy Queen routine, and afterwards we drove through a few noisy neighborhoods humming with the sound of generators.  Since our house is on the same circuit as the hospital two blocks away, we were lucky and got our power back quickly.  Other neighborhoods were not so fortunate.

Now it is Monday morning.  Many of the schools are closed today but will open tomorrow and we will be back to normal, at least until the next time Mother Nature decides to play with us.

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Weekly Photo Challenge: Flowers

Posted on August 26, 2011 by Coming East

I have always loved hydrangeas.  We had them all over the coast in New England when I was growing up, but when we moved to Texas, it was too hot there to grow them.  This summer my husband bought me a hydrangea for my little courtyard in back.  The flowers had not opened yet, but the tag said it was a blue one.  I know that the acidity of the soil determines the color to a great extent, and we have added acid to the soil on a regular basis.  When the flowers finally opened, they were a gorgeous shade of…white.  For the life of me, I don’t know why I can’t make these flowers turn a color.  Any color, at this point!  Anyway, for this week’s photo challenge, I leave you with pictures I’ve taken of various hydrangeas in Connecticut.  Enjoy.

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Seven Links Challenge

Posted on August 25, 2011 by Coming East

Last week Bud from Older Eyes, invited me to take the Seven Links Challenge.  I’ve been dragging my feet because it involves making decisions, and you know how much I hate to make decisions. The challenge is actually kind of a nice thing because: 1) I really respect Bud and his writing, so I am honored he chose me, and 2) it means that I will be reposting some writing that maybe wasn’t seen by some of you.  So here goes.

The Seven Links Challenge has two rules.  The first is that I must publish seven links of my own blog for the categories below.  The second is to nominate five -seven bloggers to take part (don’t put your head down or bend down to pick up that pencil.  I am an ex-teacher, and I know the tricks to avoid being chosen).

1.  Most Beautiful Post:  Visually, I think my post Punkin’ Time is nice, but the real reason I’m putting it here is because I got tired of looking for one I considered really beautiful.

2.  Most Popular Post:  This has to be Well It Seemed Like a Good Idea because it got over 2300 hits and 239 comments.  Obviously, that was my one Freshly Pressed.

3.  Most Controversial:  Since no one commented on Fahrenheit 451 and hardly anyone even read it, I’m only guessing that it might have been controversial.

4.  Most Helpful:  I had several I considered helpful, but I like There Are No Do-Overs in Parenting.

5.  Most Surprisingly Successful:  Many posts have had many more hits than Without Bread, All Is Misery, but I chose something from my early days of blogging when hardly anyone was reading my posts, and I was surprised I got eleven comments.  Yes, eleven big, fat ones.  Okay, half of them were my replies, but still…

6.  Post That Didn’t Get the Attention It Deserved:  Pick quite a few in my beginning days.  I had post after post without one person hitting the like button or even making a comment, including my own daughter!  I just picked one I particularly like, The Gift Everyone Needs.

7.  Post I Am Most Proud Of:  No Fair.  I can’t choose.  Okay, eenie, meenie, minee, Love, Young and Old.  I’m done!

Here are five bloggers I don’t think I’ve mentioned before (or not recently), so they may not be mad at me for inviting them to take the challenge.

1.  Leah’s Thoughts

2.  LoveDreamCelebrate

3.  Seasons Flow

4.  Journey Towards Epiphany

5.  The World Is a Book…

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One Human Family

Posted on August 24, 2011 by Coming East

Yesterday I received a letter from my frequent flyer loyalty program of American Airlines.  The purpose of the letter was to entice me to take a vacation to Miami or the Florida Keys.  The second paragraph gave me an unexpected jolt:

“Miami is an international gateway, so it’s no surprise that the area is a melting pot of nationalities from all over the world.  If you listen, you’ll notice unique accents and foreign languages everywhere you go.  And Key West is proud to be known as a popular gay and lesbian destination.  This pride, mixed with the inclusive and welcoming culture, is reflected in the island’s official motto:  One Human Family.”

After reading that, I wanted to send them a letter of my own in response:

Dear Maya Leibman*,

Thank you so much for your informative letter concerning the merits of a Miami or Key West vacation.  I am particularly appreciative that you shared with me that Key West was proud to be known as a popular gay and lesbian destination.  However, as helpful as that is, your message is unclear.  Was that a warning or a welcome?

How about sheep herders from Ethiopia?  Including their sheep?  I don’t mean to sound picky, but if I’m going to make an informed decision about the best place to vacation, I need to know  if it’s as truly welcoming as you claim it is.

Okay, then.  What about bagpipers?  I have nothing against bagpipers, mind you.  I even enjoy their music once in awhile.  In small doses.  I’m sure they are perfectly lovely people, but I’d rather not have “one of them” in the room next to me.

Are children part of the One Human Family campaign, too?  We’ve raised our kids already, done our time, so to speak, and feel the little buggers should have their own vacation site, tailor-made for them and preferably far away from us.

In closing, I just want to thank you for giving us a heads-up on places that may or may not be suitable for our situation, wherever you think a 62-year-old white woman from the South may fit in this Human Family.

Sincerely,

Susan Okaty

*President of the AAdvantage Loyalty® Program

I’ve been an American Airlines Advantage member for many years, and this letter was the first one I received where they felt a need to inform me that some vacation sites are good places for homosexuals to go.  How sad that we only have pockets of places that make a certain segment of our population feel comfortable.  If we are indeed One Human Family, why shouldn’t everyone feel comfortable everywhere?

I can’t fault American Airlines; they’re trying to sell tickets and they’re hoping that by telling people what communities cater to whom, people will feel more comfortable with the decisions they make.  But why do they feel it’s necessary?  Doesn’t that act in itself say there is a need to acknowledge safe havens because as a nation we aren’t so accepting of people from all ethnic backgrounds, all religions, and all sexual natures in all parts of the country?

This past weekend my husband and I joined some friends for a short vacation to Rehoboth Beach, a place none of us had ever been before.  One evening we walked through a neighborhood with lovely homes and upscale restaurants.  The night was clear and warm, and the street was filled with families, couples walking hand in hand or pushing a baby carriage.  About half-way down the street we happened to take a good look at our fellow walkers and realized that most of them were men.  No one had sent me a letter to “prepare” me.  I don’t need to be prepared to walk with my One Human Family.  That’s the way it should be.

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Too Much of a Good Thing

Posted on August 23, 2011 by Coming East

Years ago, when we were living in San Antonio, a new restaurant opened up near us, nestled into a stand of live oak trees.  We couldn’t wait to try it, and my husband and I even brought a friend with us.  The food was good, but a little pricey, especially since the portions were so small, we found the three of us fighting each other for the last roll to fill our still rumbling stomachs.

Nowadays, of course, restaurants give you your money’s worth and then some.  The portions are way too much for most people to eat without feeling stuffed.  My husband and I have taken to splitting a meal, not to save money, but because we don’t want to have food thrown away.  If we’re going home right after dinner, we could take the leftovers with us, but usually we’re going shopping or to a movie and the food wouldn’t keep.

Why can’t restaurants give smaller portions and charge less?  I don’t think they would lose money because maybe more people would go out to eat and people like my husband and me would each order their own meal instead of sharing.  In this economy it makes more sense.  Plus, it’s not like we’re a nation of skinny minnies and skinny guys, is it?

Recently, my nephew in California went to a restaurant called Chevys with a 2-for-1 coupon for a combo meal.  He ordered his first combo meal and waited to place his free order after he ate, as the waitress suggested, since he was going to take it home instead of eating it there.  When the waitress took his second combo order, my nephew said he just wanted the rice, beans, and the corn dessert.  When his check came, he was dismayed he had been charged for those items.  He complained, and both the waitress and manager said company policy is that, in order to use the 2-for-1 coupon, the customer has to take everything that is coming to him, and that includes the tacos and chiles.  In other words, neither the manager nor the waitress cared that, had my nephew taken everything, he would have thrown a large portion of it away.  Into the garbage.  While homeless people go hungry.  While children can’t wait until school starts so they can get free breakfast and lunch.  While mothers watch their babies starve to death.  Every day.

My nephew was so upset, he submitted a comment on the company’s website contact form, explaining what transpired.  Here is his last paragraph:

“Your company does a nice job of making calorie information available to the consumer, as well as consolidated information on how to make healthy choices from the menu.  Why can’t it be responsible here as well?  Your policy makes true all the American stereotypes of excess and waste, embarrassing all of us.”

Well said, nephew.  I’m waiting to hear their response.  If any.

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Summer Is a Frame of Mind

Posted on August 22, 2011 by Coming East

Summer isn’t measured so much by the calendar as it is by the weightless days you move through.  You shed your layers of clothes and kick off your heavy shoes, trading them in for shorts and flip-flops, making your spirit seem lighter, too.

We just returned from a three-day weekend get-away to meet some friends in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware for one last summer fling.  Driving up the Eastern Shore, we noticed the dry and dusty road and the yellowing cornfields, and sensed summer’s end was coming.

Fewer and fewer produce stands lined the road, and their offerings were meager.

As I sat on Dewey Beach under our beach umbrella, watching the families reveling in the surf, and when we strolled the boardwalk with its carnival atmosphere, I began to feel summer starting to fade just a little bit more.

Hubby with buddy Zoltar on Rehoboth Beach boardwalk.

Many colleges have begun their fall semester, my husband’s included, and school children will soon follow, some starting before Labor Day.  It seems once school is in session, even though summer doesn’t officially end until September 22, astrologically speaking, we are done with summer.  My September issue of Better Homes and Gardens features a fall scene on its cover with a teaser about knockout autumn containers, and one of my food magazines sports a bowl of chili on its front along with article titles such as “45 fabulous fall ideas” and “harvest favorites.”  If I were September, I would shout, “No fair!  You’re short-changing me!”

After we unloaded the car yesterday, I went out to my little courtyard and watered my bedraggled plants, victims of a summer with too much heat and too little rain.  My blackberry lilies are finally showing me how they got their name as their bright orange flowers have changed to pods of blackberry-looking fruit.   Soon we will cut our perennials down to the ground, our lilies, our irises, and our hostas, and prune back our roses, waiting for them to ignite again in the spring.  Though they will be gone from sight, they will only be sleeping, ready for the right time to appear again.

Summer is a perennial season for me.  Yes, it is nearly over, but its roots lie deep in my spirit.  Some autumn day, when the last leaves are falling, or when a blustery winter wind blows, I will pull out a piece of summer when I need it, savoring its sweetness. Summer is a frame of mind.

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