At fifty years old I felt great. The legs could do twenty miles on a bike, I could photograph four weddings on a weekend and still build a patio the next day. Only one thing on my body was wearing out at a fast clip and t...]]> Brace Yourself, This Might Hurt

Writen by Kenneth C. Hoffman

At fifty years old I felt great. The legs could do twenty miles on a bike, I could photograph four weddings on a weekend and still build a patio the next day. Only one thing on my body was wearing out at a fast clip and that was my teeth. As I sat meekly in the dentist’s torture chair, he casually hiked his butt on the desk and gave me a choice. I could keep him filling the cavities one at a time or I could have them all pulled and get an upper.

“All?”, I squeaked. I still had fourteen teeth left in my upper jaw and I cringed at the thought of only one extraction, much less fourteen at once. He explained that it would all be done under the deadening effects of Novocain and I wouldn’t feel a thing. I would have to hide in the house only two days and the denture would be fitted immediately upon arrival. I mulled it over for two minutes and thinking that it would be great to be able to take out my teeth and scrub them up judiciously every night won me over. I said, “O.K. I’ll go for the package.

But on sale, the package was not. A specialist oral surgeon was required at a cost of three weeks salary. No wonder he had dozens of underwater photographs expensively displayed in his waiting room. Trips to Bermuda cost big bucks. I won’t go into the gory details, but one hour later, I saw in the mirror a hundred year old man, gumming his words and drooling on the floor.

Three days later, I entered our kitchen to a sympathetic wife, asking how I made out and giving me the “Let’s see your smile” bit. I grinned, she said, “Great”, and I asked, “Did you see the pflyers I made for the bulletin board?”

She said, “Pliers? I didn’t see any pliers” I said a little louder, “You know, the pfliers from Pfoodtown.”

At this point, she understood my problem and started to laugh. My new dentures didn’t quite fit properly and I couldn’t pronounce my “f’s” properly. At first I was embarrassed, but then we both had a big laugh. We laughed so hard, my stomach hurt and my eyes teared up. It’s never easy growing old.

Retired portrait photograper. What did you say?

Used to be you could count on the information you picked up, say in a bar, or listening to other people's conversations at work, or on the bus or subway. Frankly, I think someone who's been drinking all day in a ...]]> I Heard It From Some Guy In A Pub …

Writen by Cynthia Pinsonnault

Used to be you could count on the information you picked up, say in a bar, or listening to other people’s conversations at work, or on the bus or subway. Frankly, I think someone who’s been drinking all day in a bar is as likely to tell you the truth as anyone although could be not everyone agrees with that assessment. So, for argument’s sake, let’s say there could be better sources for important data.

For instance, the guy in the pub might have seemed to say something about a catastrophe at the mall, but with all the slurring it sounds a bit like “they have cats for free down the hall.” So you’re left in a quandary do you worry about the devastation that might have occurred or do you go pick out a new pet?

The more sensible among us probably turn to the newspaper or television news programs to get the truth. Well, okay, I guess if you want to think of it that way -

The Noble Profession of Journalism:

“Study reveals 77 television stations aired video news releases without informing viewers even once that the reports were actually sponsored content.” from www.InfoShop.org/inews/

“Flaming Mouse Story Found To Be False Rumor Squashed: Flaming Mouse Didn’t Start House Fire.” from www.wsbtv.com/news/

“TV News Station Caught Inserting False Details Into ‘Live’ News Story.” from www.cuttingedge.org/news/

“Five weeks after Hurricane Katrina rumors repeated uncritically in the news media helped slow the response to the disaster ” Washington Post article

Truth, Justice, the Internet Way
So where can we turn for truth. The Internet, of course! Certainly, there could be no false information lurking on the medium of the masses.

“Congress caught making false entries in Wikipedia.” C|Net News.com article.

Well, okay. A few tiny little falsehoods may have crept in over time. But there’s a Web site dedicated to debunking Internet and email myths Snopes.com. Surely they have exposed any and all lies that might be floating about.

Of course, what if Snopes is lying? That would mean Nigerians really are giving away free money for helping them move large sums to American banks, and Bill Gates will send me money just for forwarding an email to everyone in my address book, and the moon landing really was filmed on a soundstage. Oh, my.

I thought I was going somewhere with all this. I guess I’m now thinking someone is going to read what I’ve written here and actually believe it. Then someday, someone will come along and prove that I was completely and utterly wrong not a drop of truth and then I’ll have to write about how I’m no longer a reliable source of information.

(Here comes the sappy part.) I guess all I can tell you is that the truth lies within each of us. Relying on anyone or any medium to tell you what is true will inevitably lead to disillusionment. Don’t let anyone tell you what to believe; find out for yourself.

I’m not saying you shouldn’t trust people. After all, the guy who’s been drinking in a pub all day may really know what he’s talking about free cats for everyone!

Cynthia Pinsonnault, writer, designer, consultant. More life commentary articles by Cynthia Pinsonnault can be read at Wordspill: http://cyntheta.blogspot.com/ - Cynthia also writes for the Pinsonnault Creative marketing, advertising & graphic design solutions newsletter at http://www.pinscreative.com/blog/

Assess? The Sufis believe you must evaluate one's ability for knowledge. The Masons follow an initiatory process towards truth. Oxford teaches a process to evaluate ones learning style for linguistics to develop a style of interpr...]]> Assess Life!

Writen by Christopher Jon Luke Dowgin

Assess? The Sufis believe you must evaluate one’s ability for knowledge. The Masons follow an initiatory process towards truth. Oxford teaches a process to evaluate ones learning style for linguistics to develop a style of interpreting a language to people so they may learn. But the Sufi’s go far enough back to actual teach you how to learn, with always the knowledge that there is still is much more for them to teach.

How is one to live by the golden rule if they did not learn how to develop self esteem for themselves? How do you love another if you do not know how to love yourself? How are you to answer someone when they ask you what you want if no one ever taught you how to express your opinions openly? What some people take for granted as common sense, brings them up short trying to communicate with others. Before you teach you must gage ones readiness to learn. Most collegiate school systems will not offer graduate classes to undergrads for a reason. Another mistake is to believe that something you learned as a child is so rudimentary that every one else must of learned these things as they learned to walk and talk. For you will be mistaken.

For not all parents know what to teach their children. Because silly, it has not been taught to them. So how would they be able to pass on what they do not know. Or for that fact even know that one day they must learn it themselves.

So if I ask you to follow the Golden Rule, and you have been ignored all your life, you will in turn ignore me and expect no different. If no one ever gave you a hand up, you will never give a hand out to any one else.

Most of the solid foundation to access future knowledge is laid in your childhood years. What is everyday experiences becomes the norm. In these years is what is called the developmental matrixes. First you have comfort that is started in the womb. At birth existence and separation is experienced. Soon afterwards instinctual thinking is developed.

In the first three years your sensual and emotional thinking is sown. Followed by your logical thinking from five to twelve. Your basic core personality is hammered out by four and it is soon socialized right after in school. In this socialization process the identity you gained at four is tempered by society. What works stays, what does not is left behind for good for better. But it is precarious time, for what is beneficial may be given up due to pressure from your peers. It is the Nietzsche years, what does not kill you makes you stronger. Like why do we need an excuse to have children to have stuffed animals in the house.

In olden days they would be made out of wood and called idols and avatars. Granted you should not carry one around as a safety blanket. But ever wonder why we give a small bear effigy to our young children and rabbits at Easter? But pacifiers are right out, they screw up your teeth; what harm does the teddy bear do? These are the years of intra-dependce. Your ego is in part controlled by your elders.

“You must walk before you run, for if not you will be running all your life.”

Then comes puberty. In ancient societies we had initiation rights. Muslims had circumcision. Aborigines of Australia have scarification. The Catholics still slap their youth lightly on the cheek during confirmation. We still have these rituals in the form of the police raiding and abusing teenagers hang outs. Another method that still exist is the no skateboarding signs in our public thoroughfares. But the worst is the sending of our youth to fight each other in wars. These are acts by those who are getting too old and infirm. These men did not follow their myths to open up society for the new to enter. Granted some kids need a little shock to be socialized into a society where they respect others rights as well as their own. But there was more important rites than these.

In Paleolithic ages men worshiped in caves. Here the youths were passed through narrow dark cramped tunnel like passages that had to be navigated on your belly. These tunnels opened up onto large expansive caves that held the tribes secrets on what is expected of every male in the tribe. Here the men germinated the seeds they were going to give birth to. For when the youth exited the caves, they were men now. Women upon their menstruation just become women though. The Jews had a red tent in which the women would kibitz with each other. Here they would pass their secrets on to one another during the weeks of their menstrual flow. Native Americans would drop a youth into a pit in the woods for a month or two feeding them some bread and water every couple days or so. Here the kids seen visions telling them what their new name was and what they were going to do in the tribe for the rest of their life. Were they to be a hunter, medicine man, mule skinner, or leader?

Along with these physical rites there was the subtle stories told around the campfires that had new meaning every time at a different point in life they are heard. Most of them just did not tell some simple moral tale as in Aesop fables, but had layers upon layers of meaning. Like an onion. As a child they entertain. As a teen they bore. As a parent they teach you that you should of listened to them as a teen. As an old man they help you impart knowledge so others do not make your mistakes or feel left alone in the pitfalls of life.

Some took the test, some failed, some played Hooky, and others was denied the chance. What is the test? One for all and all for one. It is the acquisition of your own ego. It is what every hero adventure was about in the old world. The stories of Joseph Campbell. It is the time that is most affected by the fifth chakra and the stage of Solutio in alchemy. But what are the obstacles faced in this matrix that make up this test? First there is giving up naked for nude; which entails comfort and enjoyment in your body. Next comes your potential for creating life and its responsibility. Once more you Toss the pacifier but keep the Teddy bear. Always giving up good for better.

One of the most important steps is learning Self reliance and independence. With this you get to choose what rules and morals are you parents or societies and which are greater truths endeavored by the Holy Spirit or the collective unconsciousness. Jefferson’s dilemma, he wrote all men are created equal but kept black slaves because of societies standards. But then bore many Africans as his own children. Abolitionists went against their parents and struggled for the realization of his words. Self rule, self retribution, and self redemption are very important to bring change in our lives. Also we must leave the world of the mother for that of the father.

For only then may we confront our fathers and take responsibility of our self’s needs by gaining a trade or fixing society where it needs mending. To do so we learn to be Self motivated. As well we temper our sensual appetites but never deny them. Embrace our animal nature but civilize it a bit. Then before we find a healthy mate we must incorporate a healthy sex opposite in your psyche and bring balance to our nature. Then it is for us to Create and teach our children and community. This is the individualization process, the philosopher’s stone, the holy Grail.

Stories from Star Wars with Luke confronting Darth Vader and the empire to the Dorothy melting the witch to save Oz, these stories are about this important time and the lessons we must learn to become adults. Some of us are forty and still have not grown up. Any stage of your development that is missed must be made up at some point.

There was once this Drag racer back in the fifties. He was the quickest thing in the quarter mile straight away. Some corporate sponsors thought he would do great in the big league on the circle tracks. So in his first Nascar race, as the checker flag fell, he was into his third curve. Miles ahead of the pack. He lapped them all ,three, four, no five times before his car came to a dead stop. He just sat there dumbstruck as the others passed him three, four, no five times. His problem was that no one told him he had to take pit stops from time to time to fuel up; never less change the tires or plugs. We get far in life and career and feel like this racer when it all starts to crumble around us because we were not told something as stupid as to fuel up our cars. Some learn that much and believe that is all and never learn to change their plugs or tires.

Either like my Russian friend we remove ourselves from our parents during our teen years and loose what they have to offer to teach us; or they do not know what it is they need to pass on to us. He thought his parents were to Russian so he avoided them when he was a teen in America during the cold war. Other parents abuse us in various ways in which their parents abused them. Some just never cut the strings and dictate our lives to us.

In the Rudolph Story, Herbie wanted to be a dentist and all the other elves laughed at him. He was not given any reassurance from others and validation to his voice and aspirations. When a parent does this to their children, they limit their potential for success and happiness. A Doctor friend of mine had said that his colleagues who were forced into the profession by their parents collapse upon their deaths. The parents die and it is now thirty years to late for these people to think for themselves. That is why they picked the mates that could order them around. If they married the only person they could control, they are in real trouble. You can not lie to yourself forever.

In some stories as Cinderella and the Wizard of Oz, the mother character gets split into two different people. What is called the borderline mother is loving one minute and without reason cruel the next. These mothers get split in the fairy tales to illustrate the challenge children have to come to terms with this dichotomy in their mother. There is the Fairy Godmother who nurtures them and often needs saving and then the evil witch or Step-Mom that needs to be killed. Unfortunately the myths up to today do not integrate the negative half into the good and bring peace to the whole. It is brought force and it is threatens so it fights to stay on creating greater harm that only resurfaces time and time again.

The Same is what happens for men when they kill the dragon or when Luke confronts Darth Vader. Actually Darth saves Luke from destruction by returning the Anakin half of his personality back in control of his ego. The Father saves himself to save his son. This is a story stemming from how it went wrong in the Garden of Eden, through the Nibelungenlied to Tolkien, from Perceval to Star Wars. It is the story called the Hero’s adventure and is told by what the Naskapi Indians call the Great Man or Jung calls the Two Million Year Old Man of the collective unconsciousness. These are stories written by people who have been there and done it before. They noticed they were not the only ones who had certain pitfalls before them, so they wrote the map for us to avoid them.

Christopher Jon Luke Dowgin is propietor of Docspond Life Coach Services providing Individual Counseling, Group facilitation, and key note addresses that speak to the heart of the mission while delivering the bottom line finacial growth. Helping millions find their bliss and return meaning to success! Guaranteed 20% improvement in your quality of life after the first meeting!

Also is the propietor and designer at Norgeforge Illumination Studios that will SEO illuminated design giving Aesthetics to traffic driven sales. So get out of the cold and get Norgeforged!

It appears at the current rate of new technologies and considering our nations growth, illegal immigrant population increases and demand issues that we may actually break our addiction to oil by somewhere around the year 2150 if ...]]> Abandoning Crude Oil in 2150

Writen by Lance Winslow

It appears at the current rate of new technologies and considering our nations growth, illegal immigrant population increases and demand issues that we may actually break our addiction to oil by somewhere around the year 2150 if all goes perfect.

The good news is that our addiction to foreign Middle Eastern Oil will be broken much sooner than that in around 2146 nearly 4-years earlier and that is a major accomplishment and we should than the leadership of our nation for working hard to achieve this goal 4-years ahead of the oil ending as a fuel of choice by 2150; very impressive indeed and thanks to all.

Actually some might say that 2150 is such a long ways away that all this smoke and mirrors and talk is simply public relations babble and indeed some might argue that the reality of the efforts compared to the rhetoric is a little unnerving. Yet those who argue that nothing is being done clearly do not seem to be attempting to change their own habits? After all only some 400,000 Americans bother to drive Hybrid Automobiles or are even on a waiting list to get one.

If a consumer movement starts the market will respond and if not it won’t and there you have it you see? So, if you are complaining about the 2150 end date to stop burning oil then perhaps you should blame someone, yah like yourself? Mirrors are on sale at Wal-Mart during their 3-day weekend sale? Consider this in 2006.

Lance Winslow

Weddings can be a lot of fun. They can be exciting times to celebrate with friends and family. Even the guests can enjoy themselves with the celebration. But sometimes a wedding can fall short of its expectations. Sometimes you jus...]]> Life Brought to a Dull Wedding

Writen by Jake Rose

Weddings can be a lot of fun. They can be exciting times to celebrate with friends and family. Even the guests can enjoy themselves with the celebration. But sometimes a wedding can fall short of its expectations. Sometimes you just want it to be over or even wish you weren’t invited or didn’t come. Here’s a few helpful tips to make every wedding a fun one.

Don’t fill up on the meal. Let’s face the facts. Most of the time it is decent at best. The real prize is in the cake. Of course you shouldn’t go too long without food before you have the cake. You don’t want to get sick or anything from it. You don’t want to eat too much of the meal either and ruin your taste buds. A reasonable one third to a half is a good amount.

Look for the funniest person at the table. They will be your best friend for a while. They will be your hope for living. Introduce yourself to them quickly, and if an empty seat opens up next to them at any point, take it. You won’t regret it.

If you are the funniest person at the table, you have two choices. Either find the person that laughs the most and become friends with them, or find a new table to sit at. You will need all the positive company you can.

Make well use of that camera they provide you with. Make it memorable for you and the lucky couple. Don’t waste your time listening to dull stories told by family members or boring toasts that are even sappier than the greeting cards at the store. Even if it’s not you that’s keeping the funny pictures, you will have the memories forever as the topic of them probably will linger for months if not years to come.

Avoid the dance floor. You don’t want some old lady or bad dancer luring you into a trap. It will happen if you are not careful. Find all possible routes to the bathroom and exit other than by the dance floor.

Don’t drink too much. You’ll already be regretting that you went. You don’t need other things to regret. You will want to remember every thing that happens, especially all the stupid things other people do. It is best to take notes, so bring a piece of paper and a pen.

Don’t be afraid to leave early. It’s your life. It’s not like you are getting paid for this. If it gets too tough, just leave. You can find a lot better things to do. Who cares if you leave your friends, family, significant other or freshly married spouse. Life’s too short.

Hopefully these tips make the next wedding you go to that much better. And if they don’t, then you didn’t hear them from me.

Jake Rose is an artist and an author on http://www.Writing.Com/ which is a site for Fiction Writing.

Hi all. So what if I don't know to blog? I have come on the block. Oh! No, this is not me telling. You know I was pushed into blogging when I just became aware of the word. And the words above are the generous advice of that pusher...]]> Art of Living and You

Writen by Alevoor Rajagopal

Hi all. So what if I don’t know to blog? I have come on the block. Oh! No, this is not me telling. You know I was pushed into blogging when I just became aware of the word. And the words above are the generous advice of that pusher. He is a friend of long standing. If I have to blame him, I have to blame for reasons that are countless. You know he is such an affable fella and a friendly devil kinda guy that you can’t blame him even when you want to. Secretly I confessed to the fact that for many things I am today, he is the person that can take credit.

After all why should he do it to me or is he just kind to me alone? He is a couple of years older than I. he was a form ahead of me in school too. He, as I know was the most bubly and chirpy guy as a school boy. Oh! My…he was talking from anything to every thing though the topics naturally were limited to our age bound world. The games, dresses he had purchased from his pocket money and that blue skirt of our teacher. I did really enjoy the moments he used to narrate all these in his inimitable style, sometimes exaggerating sometiimes in an emotional voice. I don’t remember disliking or objecting to anything except for that one day when he described the length of his teacher’s legs. I was a bit frieghtened as I protested. He laughed at me first and then just switched over.

He was not like it as I knew. This thing bugged me all night long. I can’t express what exactly I should call the thoghts that crawled my mind. But it is also true that appreciation for him surfaced strongly. But it never occured to me that he was growing up. Or was he grown up already?

More than anything else what brought me to adore him was his integrity. For some reason or the other I could not go to school or play without him. With him by my side, I felt safer always. He made fun off me, ragged me. But as always, his pranks showed me I had to grow more.

Now, in retrospect I think of him. He is coming back to our town after 32 years. They moved south after he finished high school. Later he called me to tell he had to give up further schooling for pursuing some job. He married a southerner taller than his own self. He built a home there and grew mango trees all around. This brings an incidence back to memory. In the mango season, while returning from school, we had to pass by a mangrove. And there was a hefty watchman gaurduing it. But my friend was all too clever for him. He used to yell and coo standing infront of the gate as if somebody else was trying to thieve mangoes and he wanted to alert the watchman. My friend was so quick to sense if the watchman wasn’t around when he didn’t turn up immediately. He would dash in, in big strides and whew.. would pluck a few mangoes. Always more for him and one or two for me. I didn’t dare ask why.

He is coming to me. To see me. He couldn’t even attend my marriage. He just sent a condolence letter when my dad expired. This had disturbed me deeply as I needed him besides me when I thought the world was getting washed away from under my feet. When he called up to tell he is coming here, it relieved me. I didn’t ask any more questions.

I recieved him at the airport. My wife was all curious about him as she just knew him through my narrations. he was looking more aged than he actually was.A very thin grey patch on his pate. He just grinned to me but still I could sense the affection unaltered.

Back home, he gave a shocker. He had blood cancer in the advanced stage. Over many coffees he narrated his story. He had lost hopes. His only daughter refused to see him for long time now for just he did not like her fiance. The boy belonged to a rich family. For once, he appeared to be seeking my suggestion. His days were numbered. He had built a big estate that he didn’t just want to give it to his daughter or waste it. Even at his lurking death, it filled me with gratitude coz he was asking me for suggestion. My wife was watching him, tears filled in her eyes, as he shoved the registration papers of his estate. He made all properties in my name.

He didn’t give me any chance to refuse it. For nth time it reminded me why I adored him. He had all the faith in me. He had calculated everything in advance. He familiarised me with his properties, business dealings, and the charity that he started of late and requested me to continue. He didn’t want to do all these at his death bed. I could not stop revering him for all that he is. A friend, a philosopher, a guide, and a brother. I am jumping into blogging (I hope this is not blogging) just because my thoughts can be understood by some soul just like him, on the net.

The author Rajgopal has been writing on technical matters and in this avtar he gave up tags that confine to particular genre of writing. Rajgopal is a mechanical engineer and served the pharmaceutical industry. Of late he has been putting his efforts in to creative art and healthcare writing. Here he looks in to the nostalgic aspect of humanity. He can be contacted at http://alevoorrajgopal.blogspot.com He is also writing at: http://vitamineh.blogspot.com

From my early teens, my dad spent time counseling me on my choice of profession. At an early age, I had the mind to study law. I joined the debating society in school as a preparatory step. In my last two years in s...]]> Why I Did Not Become A Surgeon

Writen by Cornelius Babasanya-Craig

From my early teens, my dad spent time counseling me on my choice of profession. At an early age, I had the mind to study law. I joined the debating society in school as a preparatory step. In my last two years in school, I was the number one choice to represent my school in inter-schools’ debates. It happened that in 1953, during the masquerade festival in our locality in Abeokuta, a city in Nigeria, a lorry driver knocked down a masquerade. The accident occurred at a T-junction where our house was located. The accident victim was pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital. It was on a Sunday evening.

The driver engaged the services of my brother, who was practicing as a lawyer in Lagos, but came home for the weekend. As it happened, the case came before my dad on Monday. To my horror, it was thrown out on technical grounds the following day. Technical grounds my foot; we all witnessed the commotion that greeted the manslaughter event. I challenged my brother to explain to me why a culprit should be allowed to go scot-free. He told me with pride that the victim was not identified at the site of the accident as a mask usually covered the face of a masquerade. The prosecution was unable to establish the identity of the accident victim in court. He therefore sized the opportunity to submit that his client had no case to answer.

Two things disturbed me. I accused however mildly, my dad and my brother of partisanship or favoritism. Both denied anything of the sort. Secondly, I could not understand why a guilty person should be allowed to go scot-free. However, the legal minds told me that until proved, he was not guilty. The effect on my life was immediate. If that was part of the things a lawyer would be paid for, I should not like to become one.

My choice of profession shifted to medicine. I decided to become a surgeon. The biology syllabus of the Cambridge School Certificate Exam at that time demanded that a student should dissect a frog, study and draw the internal organs. I approached the period with excited expectation. This was about three years after I abandoned the law profession. Frog was in good supply. So it was you to your frog. During the class, I considered it cruel to apply chloroform to knock the frog out. A classmate did it for me. With the frog still visibly breathing, I pinned the ends of the four limbs to the board, with the underside up. Using the surgical blade, I slit the frog’s belly open. As I did so, blood trickled out. I could not take it. I ran out, and failed to submit any report. That put paid to my ambition to become a surgeon. I immediately regarded medical doctors hard hearted, wondering how they had the nerve to cut human beings up.

At the end of my second year in the high school, I privately went through the algebra and geometry syllabi for the school-leaving Cambridge Exam. While still in school, I flirted with making a profession out of chemistry; but I considered it not mathematical enough. After I left school, I looked at engineering as it was suggested to me at the Science School. The endless engineering drawings put me off. I settled for physics because I found it more challenging than merely applying formulae to solve problems.

NOTE: This article was originally published in May 2000 at *spark-online.com when my grandmother was alive. I came across the link from my Web site and, after debating whether or not to change anything, decided to leav...]]> Playing Go-Between in the Digital Age

Writen by Kristin Johnson

NOTE: This article was originally published in May 2000 at *spark-online.com when my grandmother was alive. I came across the link from my Web site and, after debating whether or not to change anything, decided to leave it. As Jadzia Dax said in STAR TREK: DEEP SPACE NINE, “If you want to know who you are, it’s important to know who you’ve been.” Of course, Edna Mode in THE INCREDIBLES SAYS, “I never look back, dahling. It distracts from the now.” So I won’t look back, i.e. revise, and will present this essay as it originally appeared.

* * *

April 2000

“Anyone home?” My neighbor Nancy’s yellow inner tube enters the house before she does. She holds up her bottle of iced tea in silent response to my offer of a cool drink. No one in 80-degree California desert weather would be without iced tea. Except for me. I still have my fourth cup of coffee in hand, waiting to burn my tongue the way the sidewalk outside does bare feet.

“I’m off to the pool to do my exercises,” Nancy says. “But before I go, do I have any messages?”

I smile apologetically. “None of the grandkids have written.”

Nancy stands there, face puckered in an oddly stoic expression. “None of them? Didn’t they get my e-mails?”

“There’s no way to tell.”

“They did before. They wrote me back.”

I nod. “They’re probably just busy.” Nancy has at least seven grandchildren scattered across North America. One of the girls is reportedly backpacking in Europe right now. The rest of them are all in college.

She shakes her head slowly. “So much for ‘If you had e-mail, we’d write you more often.’”

“Do you want to send them anything?”

“Nah. I have to go do my exercises.” Nancy maneuvers around with the inner tube. She pats me on the shoulder. “Thanks anyway.”

“I’ll come get you if there’s anything in my mailbox,” I say before I head back to my home office. Sitting down at my keyboard, I ignore the sun shining off the palm trees and once again check Outlook Express. E-mail from my mother. Offers from Amazon.com. The e-mail newsletters I tell myself I don’t have time to read.

Nothing from Nancy’s grandchildren. I call up their addresses, cut and paste them into the TO line, then proceed to type: “Dear Kids, Your grandmother really wants to hear from you. She would be so tickled if you would write. Stay in school, have fun in Europe, nurse that ankle (whichever one of you is playing football), and keep warm! Love ya, Kristin.”

I click Send, and get back to whatever I was doing before Nancy’s visit. Hours later, I’m still checking my e-mail for Nancy, eager to tell her the new most-anticipated three words: “You’ve Got Mail!” I feel like the old switchboard operator in a small town, listening to everyone’s business. An odd image, that, considering the vast computing power of the Internet.

Or maybe not. After all, hackers can get into your AOL or Microsoft Outlook Inbox and read all about your last fight with your mother, your latest campaign finance blunders (you know who you are), that you hate your boss, or your wild fantasies about Harrison Ford. Heck, your company and the government can read the same things, and I guarantee you they’ll have less fun than the hackers.

Voyeurism: the final frontier. I could make a case for The Need for Connectedness in this Information Society. After all, E.M. Forster put it best: “Only connect.” And e-mail is allowing us to reach people we wouldn’t spend 33 cents, or a nickel a minute for the latest long distance plan, to talk to. It’s easy, it’s convenient, and as my neighbor says, “It’s fun!” It allows us to feel the thrill of anticipation we used to feel when the mail carrier arrived. But that was before we became adults. The anticipation dulls when you know the mail will bring the electric bill, a solicitation for the Policeman’s Ball, or a flyer titled “Have You Seen Me? Missing Children.” All important, but not satisfying.

Think of writing a letter in ancient times, the thought in the act of writing. We still enjoy the passionate love letters of Napoleon and Josephine, Abelard and Heloise. It is a glimpse into someone’s life we never knew.

There is something appealing about connecting this woman, who volunteers for the Red Cross and hesitates to buy a computer, with her grandkids. I am not just the letter-writer or the secretary. I am part of the connection.

Days later, still no word from the kids. I write them another letter: “Dear Kids, Your grandmother needs you! If you’re worrying about her bothering me, don’t. Please write to her. Only a few minutes of your time and I won’t tell your parents all the things she’s told me, things she would never tell your folks. What can I say, she’s an incredible woman.”

I’m not bluffing. I know how to find their parents. And I think they know I know. The next day, I get an answer from one of the girls: “Dear Kristin, How many things have you done that you didn’t want your parents to know about?” (More than she has.) “Get on with your life and let us get on with ours. Some of us have midterms. I don’t mean to sound rude. I love my grandmother. Sometimes I just getbusy. Tell her I’ll call her.”

I’ll call. And that reminds me: When was the last time I called someone instead of just writing an e-mail? Or actually sent a card? In my memories box are two dozen typewritten letters, liberally splashed with White-Out and full of mistakes, many crossed out with X’s. Several of these are writing critiques. The writer, my master’s thesis final project advisor Ben Masselink — former Marine, novelist, screenwriter, columnist and teacher — died in January. If my house caught on fire and I had to save one item, it wouldn’t be my Gateway laptop. It would be those letters, as well as every card I’ve ever received. Some of them are from people I rarely see. And yes, all the printed e-mails I saved.

E-mail is great, e-mail is wonderful. But it’s what’s behind e-mail that makes it great.

Nancy knocks on the door with her inner tube. “Anyone home?”

I smile and say, “You’ve got mail.”

Movie reviewer/screenwriter Kristin Johnson composes personalized poems, speeches, toasts, vows, and family memories. Visit http://www.poemsforyou.com to order your personalized memories. She is also co-author of the Midwest Book Review “enthusiastically recommended” pick Christmas Cookies Are For Giving: Stories, Recipes and Tips for Making Heartwarming Gifts (ISBN: 0-9723473-9-9). A downloadablemedia kit is available at our Web site, http://www.christmascookiesareforgiving.com, or e-mail the publisher (info@tyrpublishing.com) to receive a printed media kit and sample copy of the book. More articles available at http://www.bakingchristmascookies.com

I was shopping with a friend the other day and saw some nice dress pants that I really liked. I hurried over to the rack to find my size and held them up proudly for her approval. I was not prepared for what came next.

She...]]> Those Pants Won’t Dance

Writen by Bridgitte Williams

I was shopping with a friend the other day and saw some nice dress pants that I really liked. I hurried over to the rack to find my size and held them up proudly for her approval. I was not prepared for what came next.

She said, no, those pants won’t dance.

I started laughing. I told her no, they won’t dance but, I like them. She gently explained to me that the pants were ugly and should sit on the rack forever. I was horrified. I can’t dance, why should my pants? Does that mean, nevermind. So, even though I am going no where near a club or planning to cut a rug somewhere, the pants are off limits.

This really distressed me. Now let me get this straight.

I need pants that dance, a shirt that shimmies and socks that swing? No, that doesn’t sound right. The socks should rock, right? Do I also need shoes that shuffle? If the pants won’t dance, that could be a problem. This conflict was never considered by me before. Forget the pants. I decided that I just needed earrings that fling. I left the store pantless, except for the ones that I was wearing. I did not dare ask my friend if those pants danced. I did not want to know. I can’t seem to shake this new clothes concept, though.

I now need a dress that dips and heels that holler to match my purse that pimps. My clothes have outdone me. I am exhausted. Maybe I will just stick to what I already have in my closet. I am sure that I have a hat that hustles in there, somewhere. It will probably clash with my toering that tangos, though. I know. I will off set the outfit with a belt that boogies. Hey, I have clogs that clog. Will that work? It should. I survived the seventies in a tshirt that tripped.

In the eighties, it became a tshirt that ripped. That sounds funny. About the pants, all the ones that I wore in the nineties were so full of holes that they all fell apart. I really do need some pants. I have now decided that instead of dress pants that won’t dance, I will get some jeans that jam. My next step is to find a hairstylist that will give me bangs that bang but, to get there, I need a car that creeps. That may take awhile.

Sheesh.

I will now retire in my robe that rolls.

Cheers.

Ever wish you could make money off of people's seemingly burning desire to give themselves hearing damage? If you can either

a) Hear Iron Maiden from 9 rows ahead of you on the Bus.
b) Feel the chassis of your car/truck/...]]> Conversation Time Saver

Writen by Jens Hendrikkson

Ever wish you could make money off of people’s seemingly burning desire to give themselves hearing damage? If you can either

a) Hear Iron Maiden from 9 rows ahead of you on the Bus.
b) Feel the chassis of your car/truck/scooter rattling when someone pulls up in an Acura with the bass turned up louder than Armageddon.

OR

c) Picture someone boring a drill bit into their eardrum

Then you know you have a target audience!

What does this have to do with saving time and making money, you ask? Well, nothing to do with money, really. But time, yes. For you see, something happens when we age. Like it or not, the membrane of the inner ear becomes more rigid and the hair cells, less flexible. This leads to diminished hearing. This phenomena, combined with the natural desire of fame and fortune that can only be had through hearing damage, leads to an individual with very poor hearing.

With this information armed and in hand, set off to your nearest retirement home and witness the startling practical application of this knowledge: Some old people cannot hear very well.

But what, you ask. What does this all mean? Allow me to demonstrate in scenario form, everyone’s favorite:

Meanwhile, at the retirement house:

Kelly: (with slightly elevated tone) “Hey, mom, did you hear that blue ink has now passed black ink in terms of popularity in men aged 22-25?”

Mom: “What’s that, dear?”

This important, “What’s that, dear?” forces Kelly to reevaluate what she has said, and deems it either
a) Too unimportant to bother repeating
b) Too pointless and irrelevant to bother repeating
c) A wake up call for how stupid Kelly really is

This has an extremely important implication to real life:

When someone says something, don’t listen the first time. Then rudely reply, “What?” If they begin to repeat themselves, then you can pretty safely assume that what they are saying is mildly important or relevant. If not, you saved yourself the space in your brain to process what the person has said!

You can thank me now, Your neurons will thank me later.

For other such nonsense, check out:

http://queensdecree.com