How the old grouch received xmas:
A book with pages you can turn (with your fingers) or count (on your fingers).
A gift card (digital) for a bookstore.
Sunday New York Times subscription (digital) and Sunday Times crossword puzzle book.
Picture of deer by a road (oops, analog).
Illustrated rose festival calendar (digital).
Silk longjohns (knit).
Black leather belt (stitched).
Microfleece bicycling gloves to keep digits warm.
Music CDs: "I'm Not There" soundtrack, Benny Goodman-Jack Teagarden collection.
Nikon camera (digital).
Dig it all.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Monday, December 24, 2007
gifts, gifting, gifted
I hardly know where to begin. And therein lies the problem. When in doubt, make a list.
If one is gifted in the ultimate Amerikan art of shopping, finding the right gift for the right person becomes an interesting, mindful, creative act that materially and spiritually connects two people. Amazing, transcendent, and profitable! On the other hand, if one is obtuse, reclusive, and stingy, navigating this ritual becomes more difficult. For want of a better metaphor, it's a crap-shoot.
I can go to a store I don't hate, spend some quality time browsing the racks of merchandise, and eventually find an item that appeals to me and reminds me of a certain person on my list. If I'm extremely lucky, they will be delighted. If not, I've just projected my desire onto someone else and given them what I would like, or what I think they should want.
I'm reducing my gift-giving this year to bare essentials. Let's just call it a kind of minimalism. If you can't write an epic or even a sonnet, find it within yourself to take a deep breath and scrawl a haiku.
1. It is good to receive.
2. It is better to give.
3. It is best when the intent of the giver, the suitability of the gift, and the recipient's taste (for which there's no accounting) are in alignment, and some sort of connection is made through the gift.
4. It is equivalent to getting a hole-in-one to achieve that trifecta, that harmonic convergence of intention, spontaneity, and fit. Like the year Gven Golly told her friend Kate that she wanted red cowboy boots for Christmas, which Kate understood intuitively, and they laughed about it. Miraculously Kate came across some red cowboy boots in a store - in Gven's size - and when Gven unwrapped them they really laughed.
5. It is not the thought that counts. It's the gift that counts. If it were the thought, then we would all just send thoughts and dispense with the shopping, the boxes, the wrapping, the gifts. More thoughts, but less money, would be in circulation. The money economy would suffer, and the thought economy would thrive.
If one is gifted in the ultimate Amerikan art of shopping, finding the right gift for the right person becomes an interesting, mindful, creative act that materially and spiritually connects two people. Amazing, transcendent, and profitable! On the other hand, if one is obtuse, reclusive, and stingy, navigating this ritual becomes more difficult. For want of a better metaphor, it's a crap-shoot.
I can go to a store I don't hate, spend some quality time browsing the racks of merchandise, and eventually find an item that appeals to me and reminds me of a certain person on my list. If I'm extremely lucky, they will be delighted. If not, I've just projected my desire onto someone else and given them what I would like, or what I think they should want.
I'm reducing my gift-giving this year to bare essentials. Let's just call it a kind of minimalism. If you can't write an epic or even a sonnet, find it within yourself to take a deep breath and scrawl a haiku.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Windows 2008
We're talking hardware, not software. We're talking vinyl, double-hung, dual-pane with argon, Lo-E, tilt-in-for-easy-cleaning windows. We're talking to one salesman after another, and they all have either the best window, the best installers, the best guarantee, or the best deal going.
Andy (good ole boy w/ shaved head, no hat) didn't have that much to say, asked a few questions, explained the process, gave me a single brochure describing the product, and quoted a price, which turned out to be the lowest bid.
Dan (tall, black suit, white shirt, gold star of David) gave an intelligent, slick presentation punctuated by a whole series of glossy brochures about his business, Zen Windows, and customer testimonials to read at our leisure. He told us about his family (need a good dentist? his wife is a dentist) and quoted a comparable price.
Tony (big, gregarious black guy) had a good eye and interesting ideas about color but read his presentation out of a binder: all about Sears being in business forever and having the best guarantee. The price was approximately double the others. This was during the Michigan game, and neither one of us wanted to be there.
Tom (older, buttoned-down, all business) methodically explained how the windows are constructed of extruded "virgin" vinyl (not recycled), was cautious about promising any modifications, and quoted a price slightly higher than the lowest but in the ballpark.
Chris (goatee, has three daughters who, he points out, are more important than windows) worked his way through school installing windows for another company, and now has the best installers because they're employees, not subconstractors. The windows are good, too, but it's all about having the best-trained people. Price was competitive.
I kept getting calls but figured five estimates was enough. Gven and I talked about our options and finally decided on - you guessed it - the first one. Andy can replace the four oldest windows in the front part of the house for a little less money. Therefore, we can rationalize over-extending ourselves to get a new kitchen casement window facing the back yard and a larger bedroom window, too.
Andy came back to review the whole deal and write up a simple contract. His company, through another mega-company, will finance it, so we can take a year to pay for six windows. Let's see, that's about one four-paned sash a month. We're not getting top-of-the-line windows, but they are expensive. And worth it in the long run. And needed in the short run.
Financing approved, we made an appointment with the installer to measure everything and firm up details such as color, materials, dimensions. They missed the appointment, not a good sign I'm thinking, and good ole boy is starting to seem more like doofus. They showed up on time for the second appointment, and Larry the installer-subcontractor, took over from there.
Larry (red baseball cap) was twice as cool, twice as wise, twice as old, and twice as good ole boy as bareheaded Andy. Larry measured all the windows and brought up some relevant factors in how to fill the space below the window that once was a door, then became an air conditioner below a stained glass window, and soon will have a limestone sill to (roughly) match the stone lintel above. I think it will look good, as well as bringing much-needed light into the dining room.
Because we took our time deciding, there will be no big ribbon on this project in time for Christmas, New Year's, or anniversary number 29 (our Vinyl Anniversary). Now we have three weeks to wait for the windows to be built and delivered, then we'll see if Larry and his crew can get a couple of nonfrigid days in January to do the installation.
New year, new windows, something to look out, in, and forward to. Now, about that old furnace.
Andy (good ole boy w/ shaved head, no hat) didn't have that much to say, asked a few questions, explained the process, gave me a single brochure describing the product, and quoted a price, which turned out to be the lowest bid.
Dan (tall, black suit, white shirt, gold star of David) gave an intelligent, slick presentation punctuated by a whole series of glossy brochures about his business, Zen Windows, and customer testimonials to read at our leisure. He told us about his family (need a good dentist? his wife is a dentist) and quoted a comparable price.
Tony (big, gregarious black guy) had a good eye and interesting ideas about color but read his presentation out of a binder: all about Sears being in business forever and having the best guarantee. The price was approximately double the others. This was during the Michigan game, and neither one of us wanted to be there.
Tom (older, buttoned-down, all business) methodically explained how the windows are constructed of extruded "virgin" vinyl (not recycled), was cautious about promising any modifications, and quoted a price slightly higher than the lowest but in the ballpark.
Chris (goatee, has three daughters who, he points out, are more important than windows) worked his way through school installing windows for another company, and now has the best installers because they're employees, not subconstractors. The windows are good, too, but it's all about having the best-trained people. Price was competitive.
I kept getting calls but figured five estimates was enough. Gven and I talked about our options and finally decided on - you guessed it - the first one. Andy can replace the four oldest windows in the front part of the house for a little less money. Therefore, we can rationalize over-extending ourselves to get a new kitchen casement window facing the back yard and a larger bedroom window, too.
Andy came back to review the whole deal and write up a simple contract. His company, through another mega-company, will finance it, so we can take a year to pay for six windows. Let's see, that's about one four-paned sash a month. We're not getting top-of-the-line windows, but they are expensive. And worth it in the long run. And needed in the short run.
Financing approved, we made an appointment with the installer to measure everything and firm up details such as color, materials, dimensions. They missed the appointment, not a good sign I'm thinking, and good ole boy is starting to seem more like doofus. They showed up on time for the second appointment, and Larry the installer-subcontractor, took over from there.
Larry (red baseball cap) was twice as cool, twice as wise, twice as old, and twice as good ole boy as bareheaded Andy. Larry measured all the windows and brought up some relevant factors in how to fill the space below the window that once was a door, then became an air conditioner below a stained glass window, and soon will have a limestone sill to (roughly) match the stone lintel above. I think it will look good, as well as bringing much-needed light into the dining room.
Because we took our time deciding, there will be no big ribbon on this project in time for Christmas, New Year's, or anniversary number 29 (our Vinyl Anniversary). Now we have three weeks to wait for the windows to be built and delivered, then we'll see if Larry and his crew can get a couple of nonfrigid days in January to do the installation.
New year, new windows, something to look out, in, and forward to. Now, about that old furnace.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Happy Holidays, Family & Friends
Winter greetings from the Golly family. It has been a difficult year in many ways: a time to learn new things, to relearn things we thought we knew, and to cope with change, which, of course, is not new. We are grateful for the chance stay in touch with you and to be together when that is possible.
Friends and family are again the theme as we count our blessings at the end of the year. Consider a single 24-hour period in April when Gven and Sven drove to Cleveland to see their friends Angela and Rick. The occasion was a Chagrin Theater production, in which Rick played a pivotal role, called “These People.” Hold that thought. A block from the theater the car engine dies in the middle of a busy street. It revives long enough to get us to the theater, where we enjoy a spirited, community-minded musical and a fabulous cast party afterward. The Accord quits only once on the way to Rick and Angela’s house halfway across town in Bedford.
First thing in the morning, we talk to the Honda dealer, which is practically around the corner, and the guy at the service desk, who happens to be the son of a friend at their church, thinks it might be the starter, and if it is, it might be the model recently recalled by the factory. We cross our fingers and eat a hearty breakfast (travel tip: breakfast at the Coffee Cup rocks) and decide to make a day of it at the Cleveland Museum, which happens to have a Monet exhibit, which turns out to be an absolute visual feast. When we check with the service guy, he says the car is ready – no charge. Angela feeds us chicken salad, and we are on the road heading home, feeling like the recipients of multiple unbidden gifts.
The garden had a hard time with a late frost and a dry June, although the weather evened out over time. We picked no apples, no beans, no eggplant, and few tomatoes. Flowers were sparse. Yet the strawberries came through in spite of it all, and warm fall allowed us to keep picking peppers well into November.
Zelda is thriving in the book trade. After starting at Half-Price Books in January, she quickly acquired more responsibility, keeping order in the fine arts section and learning to receive and track shipments. Maybe her medium of choice is books! Zelda stays in touch with her friends in Kent and remains tight with the Clintonville Posse. In August, she took a road trip with her friend Stephanie and Steph’s sister Kristin to Hilton Head, South Carolina, with a side-trip to historic Savannah.
In June, Zelda accompanied her dad on a weeklong trip to Minnesota via Chicago, and, in the opinion of the elder Golly, it was a blast. In Chicago, Zelda visited her friend David, who took us to a nice neighborhood bar (travel tip: have a beer at the Map Room in Logan Park). Sven visited his longtime friend and mentor Donald in Rogers Park for some major catching up. Together Zelda and Sven explored the Field Museum, Museum of Contemporary Art, the ‘El’ system, and of course made a pilgrimage to the Heartland Café, still the coolest, earthiest, friendliest source of peace, love, and caffeine on the planet.
That was just the first two days. In La Crosse, Wisconsin, they joined the Anderson-Golly clan for a poignant celebration of the decennial Spring Grove Homecoming and the life of Sven’s uncle, A.B. “Chuck” Anderson. There were meals with brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, and parents at hot-spots like Schmidty’s and Fazey’s. There was a self-guided tour featuring a panoramic view of La Crosse from Granddad Bluff, our old house on Market Street, Hogan and Campus Schools, Asbury Methodist Church, Rudy’s root beer stand, and other old haunts.
There was a walking tour of Spring Grove, Minnesota, childhood home of Helen and Chuck. We ate ice cream at the new hangout on Main Street and looked at the art gallery that occupies the space that was once the iconic C&D (Chuck and Dunc’s) Café. Above all, there was a beautiful memorial service at Chuck and Marion’s church, where Chuck’s band played some of his favorite tunes and we were all reminded of his devotion to music and to his family. It was a classic happy/sad occasion to spend time with Marion, Kris, Lee, and Russ Anderson and to enjoy their hospitality.
Jessi and Alex visited us in Ohio for a few days in August, and as always it was great to be with them. They connected with Jessi’s friend Andy, and we all had a fun evening with our friends the Gormans just before Jessi’s protégé Tedy left for college. Abe took a leave of absence from Forbidden Planet in New York to harvest cranberries for eight weeks at Mann Farm, just outside Buzzard’s Bay, on Cape Cod. When he came to Columbus for Thanksgiving, he brought a huge box of cranberries, enough for turkey dinners and bread for at least the next year. We were glad to have Sven’s sister Jo Jo at our house again for Thanksgiving, and Kate, Jim, and Emma Gourmet also graced our table. Jessi returned to his house in Brooklyn and his job at the bookstore, but he’ll be back in time for a Solstice bonfire. Maybe cranberries will go with lutefisk and Grandma Helen’s lefse?! Oofdah!
Gven still manages and teaches at the Yoga Factory. This year she expanded the reach of her teaching to the Westerville Recreation Department, Columbus Health Department, Franklin County Courthouse, and State Farm Insurance, as well as the McConnell Heart Health Center. She still studies with Donna Winter at Balanced Yoga and with Ling's shaman training group.
Just in time for the Rose Festival at Whetstone Park and the Arts Festival downtown, Gven’s sisters Sharon and Annette came north for a few days in June. We had a convergence of important birthdays in August, so Gven and Sven took the opportunity to drive to Georgia. First we met Sharon, Jim, and family; Annette, Ron, and family; and their dad at a great restaurant in the historic gold-rush town of Dahlonega for Gven’s mother Nancy’s 75th birthday. (No, wait, she can’t be 75! She seems much younger!) It was a perfect afternoon in the mountains and a nice chance to see how Nancy’s grandchildren and great-grandchildren are growing up. Then we went to Jo Jo’s condo in Atlanta for her 60th. (No, wait, she can’t be 60! She seems much younger!) It was great to see Jo Jo’s new place, see her husband Burt, and visit a neighborhood garden around the corner from Abe’s birthplace. In an odd twist of fate, we were able to enjoy an awesome photography exhibit despite arriving at the High Museum just in time to get drenched by a thunderstorm, which was much needed in drought-stricken Georgia.
On the way to Georgia, we stopped overnight with Sven’s parents in Tennessee. Besides catching up on their many projects, we discussed a piece of property they had held onto in Michigan. Sven decided to have a look for himself and went up north to camp for a weekend in September. He was sufficiently taken with the setting – inland from Traverse Bay near a little lake – to take on the responsibilities of ownership for some undetermined future use… picture a cabin in the north woods with cross-country skiing, a sauna, a canoe…and dream on.
Meanwhile, back in reality, Sven got his red-pencil back in the freelance game after a few years’ hiatus, copyediting new books on subjects such as river ecology, phenomenology, anarchy, and he can’t wait to see what’s next. He is also the production editor for a high school Law textbook at Giant Publisher, Inc. Sitting at a desk too much exacerbates his general, gradual decline, although he hasn’t lost the capacity for sweeping generalization. Besides taiji and qigong, he seeks balance by riding his old Schwinn.
Best wishes for a bright, warm Christmas. Have a passionate, pioneering, and practical Year of the Rat.
Peace on Earth,
Sven, Gven, and Zelda
Dali (dog) and Isabel (cat)
Friends and family are again the theme as we count our blessings at the end of the year. Consider a single 24-hour period in April when Gven and Sven drove to Cleveland to see their friends Angela and Rick. The occasion was a Chagrin Theater production, in which Rick played a pivotal role, called “These People.” Hold that thought. A block from the theater the car engine dies in the middle of a busy street. It revives long enough to get us to the theater, where we enjoy a spirited, community-minded musical and a fabulous cast party afterward. The Accord quits only once on the way to Rick and Angela’s house halfway across town in Bedford.
First thing in the morning, we talk to the Honda dealer, which is practically around the corner, and the guy at the service desk, who happens to be the son of a friend at their church, thinks it might be the starter, and if it is, it might be the model recently recalled by the factory. We cross our fingers and eat a hearty breakfast (travel tip: breakfast at the Coffee Cup rocks) and decide to make a day of it at the Cleveland Museum, which happens to have a Monet exhibit, which turns out to be an absolute visual feast. When we check with the service guy, he says the car is ready – no charge. Angela feeds us chicken salad, and we are on the road heading home, feeling like the recipients of multiple unbidden gifts.
The garden had a hard time with a late frost and a dry June, although the weather evened out over time. We picked no apples, no beans, no eggplant, and few tomatoes. Flowers were sparse. Yet the strawberries came through in spite of it all, and warm fall allowed us to keep picking peppers well into November.
Zelda is thriving in the book trade. After starting at Half-Price Books in January, she quickly acquired more responsibility, keeping order in the fine arts section and learning to receive and track shipments. Maybe her medium of choice is books! Zelda stays in touch with her friends in Kent and remains tight with the Clintonville Posse. In August, she took a road trip with her friend Stephanie and Steph’s sister Kristin to Hilton Head, South Carolina, with a side-trip to historic Savannah.
In June, Zelda accompanied her dad on a weeklong trip to Minnesota via Chicago, and, in the opinion of the elder Golly, it was a blast. In Chicago, Zelda visited her friend David, who took us to a nice neighborhood bar (travel tip: have a beer at the Map Room in Logan Park). Sven visited his longtime friend and mentor Donald in Rogers Park for some major catching up. Together Zelda and Sven explored the Field Museum, Museum of Contemporary Art, the ‘El’ system, and of course made a pilgrimage to the Heartland Café, still the coolest, earthiest, friendliest source of peace, love, and caffeine on the planet.
That was just the first two days. In La Crosse, Wisconsin, they joined the Anderson-Golly clan for a poignant celebration of the decennial Spring Grove Homecoming and the life of Sven’s uncle, A.B. “Chuck” Anderson. There were meals with brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, and parents at hot-spots like Schmidty’s and Fazey’s. There was a self-guided tour featuring a panoramic view of La Crosse from Granddad Bluff, our old house on Market Street, Hogan and Campus Schools, Asbury Methodist Church, Rudy’s root beer stand, and other old haunts.
There was a walking tour of Spring Grove, Minnesota, childhood home of Helen and Chuck. We ate ice cream at the new hangout on Main Street and looked at the art gallery that occupies the space that was once the iconic C&D (Chuck and Dunc’s) Café. Above all, there was a beautiful memorial service at Chuck and Marion’s church, where Chuck’s band played some of his favorite tunes and we were all reminded of his devotion to music and to his family. It was a classic happy/sad occasion to spend time with Marion, Kris, Lee, and Russ Anderson and to enjoy their hospitality.
Jessi and Alex visited us in Ohio for a few days in August, and as always it was great to be with them. They connected with Jessi’s friend Andy, and we all had a fun evening with our friends the Gormans just before Jessi’s protégé Tedy left for college. Abe took a leave of absence from Forbidden Planet in New York to harvest cranberries for eight weeks at Mann Farm, just outside Buzzard’s Bay, on Cape Cod. When he came to Columbus for Thanksgiving, he brought a huge box of cranberries, enough for turkey dinners and bread for at least the next year. We were glad to have Sven’s sister Jo Jo at our house again for Thanksgiving, and Kate, Jim, and Emma Gourmet also graced our table. Jessi returned to his house in Brooklyn and his job at the bookstore, but he’ll be back in time for a Solstice bonfire. Maybe cranberries will go with lutefisk and Grandma Helen’s lefse?! Oofdah!
Gven still manages and teaches at the Yoga Factory. This year she expanded the reach of her teaching to the Westerville Recreation Department, Columbus Health Department, Franklin County Courthouse, and State Farm Insurance, as well as the McConnell Heart Health Center. She still studies with Donna Winter at Balanced Yoga and with Ling's shaman training group.
Just in time for the Rose Festival at Whetstone Park and the Arts Festival downtown, Gven’s sisters Sharon and Annette came north for a few days in June. We had a convergence of important birthdays in August, so Gven and Sven took the opportunity to drive to Georgia. First we met Sharon, Jim, and family; Annette, Ron, and family; and their dad at a great restaurant in the historic gold-rush town of Dahlonega for Gven’s mother Nancy’s 75th birthday. (No, wait, she can’t be 75! She seems much younger!) It was a perfect afternoon in the mountains and a nice chance to see how Nancy’s grandchildren and great-grandchildren are growing up. Then we went to Jo Jo’s condo in Atlanta for her 60th. (No, wait, she can’t be 60! She seems much younger!) It was great to see Jo Jo’s new place, see her husband Burt, and visit a neighborhood garden around the corner from Abe’s birthplace. In an odd twist of fate, we were able to enjoy an awesome photography exhibit despite arriving at the High Museum just in time to get drenched by a thunderstorm, which was much needed in drought-stricken Georgia.
On the way to Georgia, we stopped overnight with Sven’s parents in Tennessee. Besides catching up on their many projects, we discussed a piece of property they had held onto in Michigan. Sven decided to have a look for himself and went up north to camp for a weekend in September. He was sufficiently taken with the setting – inland from Traverse Bay near a little lake – to take on the responsibilities of ownership for some undetermined future use… picture a cabin in the north woods with cross-country skiing, a sauna, a canoe…and dream on.
Meanwhile, back in reality, Sven got his red-pencil back in the freelance game after a few years’ hiatus, copyediting new books on subjects such as river ecology, phenomenology, anarchy, and he can’t wait to see what’s next. He is also the production editor for a high school Law textbook at Giant Publisher, Inc. Sitting at a desk too much exacerbates his general, gradual decline, although he hasn’t lost the capacity for sweeping generalization. Besides taiji and qigong, he seeks balance by riding his old Schwinn.
Best wishes for a bright, warm Christmas. Have a passionate, pioneering, and practical Year of the Rat.
Peace on Earth,
Sven, Gven, and Zelda
Dali (dog) and Isabel (cat)
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
The Holiday Letter
Show of hands. How many of you send an annual Holiday Letter? You know the kind - it's almost as infamous as fruitcake - the letter that people send to their friends and relatives bragging about their new yacht, their kid's Fulbright Grant, their vacation in Tuscany, and their lunch with the Dalai Lama.
I am one of those people. My family and friends have come to expect (dread) it, and they would wonder what horrible thing happened to me if they didn't get The Letter. Every year around this time, my compulsion kicks in, I spend an inordinate amount of time and energy writing and rewriting it, and it comes out just like last year's Holiday Letter: carefully worded to be informative enough to give the impression that everything is fine, yet not too informative. Most of the recipients don't want to know too many details.
It's part creative writing assignment, part essay exam, and part editing test. The purpose is to keep in touch with more people than you have time to write to personally, and therefore runs the risk of coming across as impersonal, which it is. It's supposed to bring folks up to date on your family news, and therefore runs the risk of disclosing more than Aunt Myrtle really wanted to know about your colonoscopy.
Like golf, it's guaranteed to be either too long or too short or otherwise off the mark, and someone is sure to take something the wrong way. Some people avoid saying the wrong thing by making their letter a photo essay and saying very little. Others play it safe by saying the same thing every year, updating the kids' ages and the specifics of their vacation. If you're smart, you realize that brevity is the soul of wit, and you don't include every 'A' on every report card, every athletic trophy, and every science fair blue ribbon.
Then there's the dilemma of to whom to send this tome. I have reduced my mailing list over the years to those who bother to send a card or write back. For reasons I will never know, people drop off the Flat Earth of correspondence, move and leave no forwarding address, by omission or commission decide to break it off. So Brett in Prudenville is gone. Brucie in Chicago is gone. Karen in Indianapolis is gone. Most, but not all, old girlfriends are gone. Most, but not all, old pals and roommates are gone. For most of them I must take responsibility for not holding up my end. This year, while addressing envelopes, I decided to do a little demographic study and track where they're going. The geographic breakdown is:
1. 18 Ohio
2. 5 Michigan
3. 5 Illinois-Wisconsin-Minnesota-Iowa
4. 6 Georgia-Florida-Tennessee-North Carolina
5. 4 Missouri-Kansas-Texas
6. 5 Washington-Oregon-California
7. 2 New York
What conclusions can be drawn from this statistical blip? Not much. My network is very limited, midwestern, provincial, domestic, parochial. I can live with that. I'm looking forward to getting a few choice words back from that relatively small circle.
I am one of those people. My family and friends have come to expect (dread) it, and they would wonder what horrible thing happened to me if they didn't get The Letter. Every year around this time, my compulsion kicks in, I spend an inordinate amount of time and energy writing and rewriting it, and it comes out just like last year's Holiday Letter: carefully worded to be informative enough to give the impression that everything is fine, yet not too informative. Most of the recipients don't want to know too many details.
It's part creative writing assignment, part essay exam, and part editing test. The purpose is to keep in touch with more people than you have time to write to personally, and therefore runs the risk of coming across as impersonal, which it is. It's supposed to bring folks up to date on your family news, and therefore runs the risk of disclosing more than Aunt Myrtle really wanted to know about your colonoscopy.
Like golf, it's guaranteed to be either too long or too short or otherwise off the mark, and someone is sure to take something the wrong way. Some people avoid saying the wrong thing by making their letter a photo essay and saying very little. Others play it safe by saying the same thing every year, updating the kids' ages and the specifics of their vacation. If you're smart, you realize that brevity is the soul of wit, and you don't include every 'A' on every report card, every athletic trophy, and every science fair blue ribbon.
Then there's the dilemma of to whom to send this tome. I have reduced my mailing list over the years to those who bother to send a card or write back. For reasons I will never know, people drop off the Flat Earth of correspondence, move and leave no forwarding address, by omission or commission decide to break it off. So Brett in Prudenville is gone. Brucie in Chicago is gone. Karen in Indianapolis is gone. Most, but not all, old girlfriends are gone. Most, but not all, old pals and roommates are gone. For most of them I must take responsibility for not holding up my end. This year, while addressing envelopes, I decided to do a little demographic study and track where they're going. The geographic breakdown is:
1. 18 Ohio
2. 5 Michigan
3. 5 Illinois-Wisconsin-Minnesota-Iowa
4. 6 Georgia-Florida-Tennessee-North Carolina
5. 4 Missouri-Kansas-Texas
6. 5 Washington-Oregon-California
7. 2 New York
What conclusions can be drawn from this statistical blip? Not much. My network is very limited, midwestern, provincial, domestic, parochial. I can live with that. I'm looking forward to getting a few choice words back from that relatively small circle.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
save water, shower with a friend
Somehow that old rallying cry doesn't sound as daring as it once did, but that's okay, maybe it's a good thing that the social revolution made such things commonplace. Now, according to Slate.com there's a corollary:
Will this this awareness spark widespread cohabitation by friends who just want to save the planet? Will it keep couples from splitting just so they can reduce, reuse, and recycle their irreconcilable differences? Will it spawn a wave of urban and rural communes populated by green post-hippie post-feminist post-boomers?
I doubt it. Yet it does make strange bedfellows of so-called social conservatives and so-called environmentalists, although the latter are probably the more conservative in a literal sense. And yes, it adds another dimension to the old family-values argument - another phrase that seems to have lost traction - to know that material, moral, and ecological 'values' coincide. In short, breaking up is expensive.
Are you a real environmentalist? If so, you might want to consider staying with your spouse long after the love is gone. Turns out, divorce is just one more thing that is bad for the environment. The LAT and WP report on a new study that reveals couples who live together use energy and water much more efficiently than those that have split up. In one year alone, divorced households were responsible for using as much as 61 percent more resources per person than before they split. "If you don't want to get remarried," the study's author explained, "maybe move in with somebody you like."
Will this this awareness spark widespread cohabitation by friends who just want to save the planet? Will it keep couples from splitting just so they can reduce, reuse, and recycle their irreconcilable differences? Will it spawn a wave of urban and rural communes populated by green post-hippie post-feminist post-boomers?
I doubt it. Yet it does make strange bedfellows of so-called social conservatives and so-called environmentalists, although the latter are probably the more conservative in a literal sense. And yes, it adds another dimension to the old family-values argument - another phrase that seems to have lost traction - to know that material, moral, and ecological 'values' coincide. In short, breaking up is expensive.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
