Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
The Love Affir with California is consumated
When I married husbnad number 3, a California native, I began my conversion. True, the place was not Florida, where I had 29 years of close friends and adventures,; it was no the intellectual stimulation and libraries of Boston, which I left so reluctantly 40 years ago, but yesterday my Wh.conversion came.
Lobster, that wonderful concoction that helps me hang on, came to my little home town.
Well, sort of my home town. The next-abutting town over.The Red Lobster franchise there.began Lobsterfrest What joy. Then, the sandwich shop in my vicinity featured lobster rolls.I succumbed over and over.I wondered "what else could anyone want?
I had good friends. I had a comfortable coach which was almost paid for. My children were doing well in their respective lives. Mu husband was a gem.Like the lost bear, I had fallen into a honeypot. THERE WAS FRESH LOBSTER HERE.
Previous satisfactions have evaporated.I am truly content. LOng live California, my love, my home., .
Lobster, that wonderful concoction that helps me hang on, came to my little home town.
Well, sort of my home town. The next-abutting town over.The Red Lobster franchise there.began Lobsterfrest What joy. Then, the sandwich shop in my vicinity featured lobster rolls.I succumbed over and over.I wondered "what else could anyone want?
I had good friends. I had a comfortable coach which was almost paid for. My children were doing well in their respective lives. Mu husband was a gem.Like the lost bear, I had fallen into a honeypot. THERE WAS FRESH LOBSTER HERE.
Previous satisfactions have evaporated.I am truly content. LOng live California, my love, my home., .
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
olde lang zein in spadeds
Ah, nostalgia. e hip deep in nostalgia. CArds,, letters, photos of grandchildren and trips to Turkwy and basketball games and Kansas lakesides.
Our letter, in contrast, was minimalist with a lot of jokes, courtesy of my funny husband. Rather than mourning, we took a year and flipped it off. Why not. Our friends have anough misery without our adding to their stack. We're all old. We're all in what used to be called straightened circumstances (except for folks withmmilitary pensions.) The pictures dwpict people who are shades of their former selves, many still lovely but almost unrecognizable neveertheless.
We left our pictures in the MYPhoto file in our computer. We should be thanked (Probably won't be, though)........
Still, it's a great time of year.Don't you agree?That is, if you're a nostalgia buff.
Our letter, in contrast, was minimalist with a lot of jokes, courtesy of my funny husband. Rather than mourning, we took a year and flipped it off. Why not. Our friends have anough misery without our adding to their stack. We're all old. We're all in what used to be called straightened circumstances (except for folks withmmilitary pensions.) The pictures dwpict people who are shades of their former selves, many still lovely but almost unrecognizable neveertheless.
We left our pictures in the MYPhoto file in our computer. We should be thanked (Probably won't be, though)........
Still, it's a great time of year.Don't you agree?That is, if you're a nostalgia buff.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Saturday, October 8, 2011
"Maybe good; maybe bad"
I went searching for this old 80's story on the internet, and Howard somebody or other had a part of it and claimed credit for his hubris. He certainly had that! I think I first read thus tale in a book by 70's Olympic gymnast Dan Millman, who went about inspiring people in that decade. Like any good cook with a recipe, I have absorbed it, revised it, and made it my own,
He4re's my version: Once, a poor Chinese rice farmer had a son and a fine horse. The neighbors came and cried "you are a fortunate man; you have a son and a horse."
"Maybe goodk maybe bad" replied the farmer.
One day, his fine horse ran away. The neibors came and wept "you have lost your fine horse."
The farmer said "amybe good, maybe bad.
The nest day, the horse returned leading five wild horses. The neighbors cried "now you are a richman with siix horses."
The farmer said, "Maybe good, maybe bad."
The son was thrown by one of the horses when he tried to break it, and made lame. The neighbors said, "Your son is good for nothing; he cannot help you in the rice fields."
The farmer said, 'Maybe good, maybe bad."
With no one to help in the rice fields, the spring rains came and flooded the plat. The nighbors cried, "you are ruined."
The farmer said, "Mybe good, maybe bad.""
The rice fermented and made fine rice liquor, which the farmeer and his son were able to sell and become rich. The neighbors said "You are saved. Rice Vodka is your savior"
The farmer saidi, "Maybe good, maybe bad"
The army came through the violage and conscripted every able bodied man for combat. The farmer's son stayed home because he was lame. The neighbors said, "fortunate you. You have a son for your old age."
The farmer replied, "Maybe good, maybe bad."
The son became addicted to the rice vodka and eentually came to an AA meeting where he told this story. He got sober and returned home to his father to take care of him in his old age.
The story entered the AA lore and was told from Boston to San Diego. A friend told the farmer aoub it and ssaid, ""now you are famous."
The farmer replied, with feeling, "maybe good , maybe bad."
He4re's my version: Once, a poor Chinese rice farmer had a son and a fine horse. The neighbors came and cried "you are a fortunate man; you have a son and a horse."
"Maybe goodk maybe bad" replied the farmer.
One day, his fine horse ran away. The neibors came and wept "you have lost your fine horse."
The farmer said "amybe good, maybe bad.
The nest day, the horse returned leading five wild horses. The neighbors cried "now you are a richman with siix horses."
The farmer said, "Maybe good, maybe bad."
The son was thrown by one of the horses when he tried to break it, and made lame. The neighbors said, "Your son is good for nothing; he cannot help you in the rice fields."
The farmer said, 'Maybe good, maybe bad."
With no one to help in the rice fields, the spring rains came and flooded the plat. The nighbors cried, "you are ruined."
The farmer said, "Mybe good, maybe bad.""
The rice fermented and made fine rice liquor, which the farmeer and his son were able to sell and become rich. The neighbors said "You are saved. Rice Vodka is your savior"
The farmer saidi, "Maybe good, maybe bad"
The army came through the violage and conscripted every able bodied man for combat. The farmer's son stayed home because he was lame. The neighbors said, "fortunate you. You have a son for your old age."
The farmer replied, "Maybe good, maybe bad."
The son became addicted to the rice vodka and eentually came to an AA meeting where he told this story. He got sober and returned home to his father to take care of him in his old age.
The story entered the AA lore and was told from Boston to San Diego. A friend told the farmer aoub it and ssaid, ""now you are famous."
The farmer replied, with feeling, "maybe good , maybe bad."
Monday, September 19, 2011
What Are We Doing Here?
The above title was the question at last week's soiree at our old folks Trailer Park, and the answer came to us with unbelievable certainty: We are ushering one another off the planet.
And we do so with panache. Heroes collect bottles and cans every monday and a group of oldsters use the proceeds to plan monthly parties which we all enjoy.
Other Seniors man a busy library/TV room to entertain us on those long, lonely widow-evenings or when a spouse is watching a football game. We even have a computer room designed by our two techies out of spare parts (not the techies spare parts, the spare parts of discarded earlier computers). They, the techies, keep it going.
Since most of us remember the "don't trust anyone over 30"slogans of the 60's, most of us are really surprised to be going (sort-of) strong in our 70's. Most of us have downsized because the "big House" required lifting and scrubbing and climbing we could no longer do. We live here on Social Security and Food Stanps and most of us look up to see the Poverty Line.
That's ok. We have each other and our bingo and card games and potlucks and heated pool and jacuzzi and parties and we feel fortunate.(Grsndma Letty is the author of Murder at the Trailer Park, available from Linhart Publishing at http:linhartpublishing,com.)
We may be in a holding tank for the mortuary, but we make the best of it.
And we do so with panache. Heroes collect bottles and cans every monday and a group of oldsters use the proceeds to plan monthly parties which we all enjoy.
Other Seniors man a busy library/TV room to entertain us on those long, lonely widow-evenings or when a spouse is watching a football game. We even have a computer room designed by our two techies out of spare parts (not the techies spare parts, the spare parts of discarded earlier computers). They, the techies, keep it going.
Since most of us remember the "don't trust anyone over 30"slogans of the 60's, most of us are really surprised to be going (sort-of) strong in our 70's. Most of us have downsized because the "big House" required lifting and scrubbing and climbing we could no longer do. We live here on Social Security and Food Stanps and most of us look up to see the Poverty Line.
That's ok. We have each other and our bingo and card games and potlucks and heated pool and jacuzzi and parties and we feel fortunate.(Grsndma Letty is the author of Murder at the Trailer Park, available from Linhart Publishing at http:linhartpublishing,com.)
We may be in a holding tank for the mortuary, but we make the best of it.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
A Black President:: Unintended Consequences
Barack Hussein Obama lived in a state and a decade that was inordinately tolerant of him. Unlike him, I grew up in the Jim Crow era and locale. Here's what I know the back room boys with their cigars and their "gentlemen's " clubs are saying to each other in private: "Obama is just one of them 'uppity' niggers." These guys hated Tiger Woods. He stole their game. They hated Michael Jordan. He replaced their heroes. They hated Jackie Robinson. He didn't let well enough alone.If they'd been on the planet that far back, they'd have hated Jim Thorpe.
Their numbers are legion on wall street. In the back rooms of the Republican party. You see that everywhere. They want Obama to fail, and they'll bring down the economy and even the country to accomplish that.
I doubt if anyone born after 1947 believes me. But brothers and sisters, I know what I'm taking about.
Our president made a brilliant and spirited speech about Race in Philadelphia in the campaign. He needs to bring it up to date.
Much has happened since the election to underscore the latent hatred in America. It's only the minority that still honors Jim Crow. The trouble is, it's a minority that sits in the seats of power in government, in business, in wall street. These guys gotta be called out, and our president is just the guy to do it.
Their numbers are legion on wall street. In the back rooms of the Republican party. You see that everywhere. They want Obama to fail, and they'll bring down the economy and even the country to accomplish that.
I doubt if anyone born after 1947 believes me. But brothers and sisters, I know what I'm taking about.
Our president made a brilliant and spirited speech about Race in Philadelphia in the campaign. He needs to bring it up to date.
Much has happened since the election to underscore the latent hatred in America. It's only the minority that still honors Jim Crow. The trouble is, it's a minority that sits in the seats of power in government, in business, in wall street. These guys gotta be called out, and our president is just the guy to do it.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
competence is a beautiful thing
Dear Ones:
After a few years on this planet, I have come to value vastly different things than I did when I was your age. The most notable one is competence. Show me an expert on something, anything, whether task or substance, and I'll show you someone I think is really spiffy.
Case in point: We love to watch Book TV on C-Span 2 on weekends. The airwaves are rife with competence, for a change. After toiling over the research necessary to construct a non-fiction book of some size, an author usually really knows what he's talking about. Contrast these fellows and gals with the talking heads on Cable. Miles, yea miles, apart.My beloved husband, who yearns to be on Book TV, is such an absorber of facts and trivia and stuff about the five Russian authors he features. He stopped a recent critic dead by dropping Rimsky Korsakov's nickname. That's serious scholarshiip.
Our petite webmaster is an example of task mastery. We say "whozis" and lo and behold it appears where it should on our website. She's the embodiment of competence.
Our dear "estate manager" (well, ok, he's a handyman ) keeps our aging home and appliances and machines in running order with hardly a blink. I've never seen anyone grasp a problem and solve it faster than Don, the person in question. Further, with a word he buckles down and is out of here in jig time.Socorro, our occasional household heavy task tackler, is really really good and fast and thorough.
Being able to attract and keep first class competent help is a talent which I bow to John for. He bonds with everyone, easily. They love to help him. It's a talent. Carole, my oldest, has that talent too.Her babysitter was with her for 16 years and just showed up to applaud Carole's son, The Eagle Scout.For that matter, Grandma Letty flew cross country to do the same. Being an Eagle is a big deal and demonstrates competence. Isn't that where we started this essay? Maybe it's a competent blog.I hope.
After a few years on this planet, I have come to value vastly different things than I did when I was your age. The most notable one is competence. Show me an expert on something, anything, whether task or substance, and I'll show you someone I think is really spiffy.
Case in point: We love to watch Book TV on C-Span 2 on weekends. The airwaves are rife with competence, for a change. After toiling over the research necessary to construct a non-fiction book of some size, an author usually really knows what he's talking about. Contrast these fellows and gals with the talking heads on Cable. Miles, yea miles, apart.My beloved husband, who yearns to be on Book TV, is such an absorber of facts and trivia and stuff about the five Russian authors he features. He stopped a recent critic dead by dropping Rimsky Korsakov's nickname. That's serious scholarshiip.
Our petite webmaster is an example of task mastery. We say "whozis" and lo and behold it appears where it should on our website. She's the embodiment of competence.
Our dear "estate manager" (well, ok, he's a handyman ) keeps our aging home and appliances and machines in running order with hardly a blink. I've never seen anyone grasp a problem and solve it faster than Don, the person in question. Further, with a word he buckles down and is out of here in jig time.Socorro, our occasional household heavy task tackler, is really really good and fast and thorough.
Being able to attract and keep first class competent help is a talent which I bow to John for. He bonds with everyone, easily. They love to help him. It's a talent. Carole, my oldest, has that talent too.Her babysitter was with her for 16 years and just showed up to applaud Carole's son, The Eagle Scout.For that matter, Grandma Letty flew cross country to do the same. Being an Eagle is a big deal and demonstrates competence. Isn't that where we started this essay? Maybe it's a competent blog.I hope.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
launching a publishing firm
Dear Ones
GrandmaLetty is lunching a website with her publications, The Incredible Russian Five, Prince Igor: Borodin's 20-year struggle to complete his opera; and Some Really Funny Things about Being Naked. How's that for a smorgasbord? We won the website in a church auction and you should let us know what it should contain. We are planning John's 80th Birthday party in November. Write early and often.
GrandmaLetty is lunching a website with her publications, The Incredible Russian Five, Prince Igor: Borodin's 20-year struggle to complete his opera; and Some Really Funny Things about Being Naked. How's that for a smorgasbord? We won the website in a church auction and you should let us know what it should contain. We are planning John's 80th Birthday party in November. Write early and often.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
We sold our Google stock
Dear Ones:
IT people are unstoppable. They seeminly must mess with platforms. In fact, they're unhappy unless they're moving my dashboard. The latest deal: my blog disappeared again. The site said it had been discontinued. I went to blogger and after an hour and a half got it back. I don't know how. Lots of "restoring" messages and little circles going round and round. I could only hope it would reappear.
Lo and behold, it did. Happiness. I was prepared to bid goodbye and let it go into the ether, but I'm happy I didn't have to be so philosphical. Not that I write anything memorable or even significant, but someday my progeny will know me better and either admire or pooh-pooh my efforts. Probably the latter.
When I did my stint with AOL in the 80s and 90s, everything on A&R changed all the time, even the name of the site. It was my first experience with personnel who didn't know enough to let well enough alone. We could never build up an online presence because the IT guys were determined to change everything. I used to get dizzy at the changes I had to make, let alone my followers, such as they were.
I had another example of IT meddling. I have a Pacific Life fund which is, near as I can tell, investing in credit default swaps and deriivatives. At least its going down while everything else in going up. The lesson is, they keep changing the Pacific Life web site so I can no longer use it. Once again, change for change's sake. They're like bureaucrats, these iT guys, who have to keep their jobs. I have a proposal: Hire them not as employees but as one-time web designers as my brillian daughter, Carole, did. She 's NCFurnitureAdvisor.com and her IT work is great. And for good.
IT people are unstoppable. They seeminly must mess with platforms. In fact, they're unhappy unless they're moving my dashboard. The latest deal: my blog disappeared again. The site said it had been discontinued. I went to blogger and after an hour and a half got it back. I don't know how. Lots of "restoring" messages and little circles going round and round. I could only hope it would reappear.
Lo and behold, it did. Happiness. I was prepared to bid goodbye and let it go into the ether, but I'm happy I didn't have to be so philosphical. Not that I write anything memorable or even significant, but someday my progeny will know me better and either admire or pooh-pooh my efforts. Probably the latter.
When I did my stint with AOL in the 80s and 90s, everything on A&R changed all the time, even the name of the site. It was my first experience with personnel who didn't know enough to let well enough alone. We could never build up an online presence because the IT guys were determined to change everything. I used to get dizzy at the changes I had to make, let alone my followers, such as they were.
I had another example of IT meddling. I have a Pacific Life fund which is, near as I can tell, investing in credit default swaps and deriivatives. At least its going down while everything else in going up. The lesson is, they keep changing the Pacific Life web site so I can no longer use it. Once again, change for change's sake. They're like bureaucrats, these iT guys, who have to keep their jobs. I have a proposal: Hire them not as employees but as one-time web designers as my brillian daughter, Carole, did. She 's NCFurnitureAdvisor.com and her IT work is great. And for good.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Sunday, December 12, 2010
directing people, not posting
Horrors, little ones. As a closet historian/sociologist, I have lots to say and nobody to see it. Oh well, what else is new.
Here for your edification is a sequence of 'transitional thought words." My construct. In the 1970's it was "uh." The word was so pervasive that even Toastmasters charged speakers a nickel for each "uh" uttered. Eventually, the word became anathema, if it was a word at all.
Next, in the 1980s and 1990s it was "You know." Caroline Kennedy established herself as an out-of-touch lightweight in the 2008 Presidential Campaign by slinging about the "you knows" till listeners were shrieking.
Now, kids, it's "but-uh." The noise (I won't dignify it by calling it a word) bridges all kinds of thoughts from one dumb idea to another. Guess what I think of the word/noise?
Sometime in there was "well, uh" That wasn't as bad as "but-uh" but was still majorly annoying.
The object of this post? Be aware of your unconscious transitional sounds. If possible, leave them out.
Here for your edification is a sequence of 'transitional thought words." My construct. In the 1970's it was "uh." The word was so pervasive that even Toastmasters charged speakers a nickel for each "uh" uttered. Eventually, the word became anathema, if it was a word at all.
Next, in the 1980s and 1990s it was "You know." Caroline Kennedy established herself as an out-of-touch lightweight in the 2008 Presidential Campaign by slinging about the "you knows" till listeners were shrieking.
Now, kids, it's "but-uh." The noise (I won't dignify it by calling it a word) bridges all kinds of thoughts from one dumb idea to another. Guess what I think of the word/noise?
Sometime in there was "well, uh" That wasn't as bad as "but-uh" but was still majorly annoying.
The object of this post? Be aware of your unconscious transitional sounds. If possible, leave them out.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
A Whiskey-Tango-Foxtrot Moment
I adore my younger brother, and always have except when he got mad at me in the 40's and ripped my Van Johnson pictures to shreds. Van Johnson, it turned out, was something of a sap anyway. He married his best friend's wife.
The point of this blog is an email I sent about his new girlfriend, or old girlfriend depending on your point of view. I was aware they had been "dating" for several years. I knew they had gone to North Carolina (from Florida, not an odious trip) to visit my oldest and very classy daughter and her remarkable boys.
To make a long story short (I know, you haven't got all day, kids) said daughter remarked on the phone how sharp Anne, the girlfriend, is. Words she used were "capable, attractive," and I was "certain to like her." That was infofrmation I passed on to brother in my email.
To my glee, he answered immediately, with observations on his life and time and various weddings and, in the last paragraph, said "Anne and I married.'
Well, little ones, that was news. I thought I had a divorced, now bachelor, brother. WRONG. That's why I had a whiskey-tango-foxtrot moment. i was floored, not less so when the news was an appendage to an email.
Eventually, I pulled myself together and wished congratulations and good luck and all the things you way. And of course, I am happy for him. I just hope the nexr time he has whopper news he'll put it in the lead of the email.
The point of this blog is an email I sent about his new girlfriend, or old girlfriend depending on your point of view. I was aware they had been "dating" for several years. I knew they had gone to North Carolina (from Florida, not an odious trip) to visit my oldest and very classy daughter and her remarkable boys.
To make a long story short (I know, you haven't got all day, kids) said daughter remarked on the phone how sharp Anne, the girlfriend, is. Words she used were "capable, attractive," and I was "certain to like her." That was infofrmation I passed on to brother in my email.
To my glee, he answered immediately, with observations on his life and time and various weddings and, in the last paragraph, said "Anne and I married.'
Well, little ones, that was news. I thought I had a divorced, now bachelor, brother. WRONG. That's why I had a whiskey-tango-foxtrot moment. i was floored, not less so when the news was an appendage to an email.
Eventually, I pulled myself together and wished congratulations and good luck and all the things you way. And of course, I am happy for him. I just hope the nexr time he has whopper news he'll put it in the lead of the email.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
The End of Sensitivity?
I'll never forget the reaction of one wag to the amor between Woody Allen and his stepdaughter of 18. The actor, whose 30-year relationship to a New York Psychiatrist was well-publicized, received a mix of scorn and derision.. I think it was David Letterman (himself problematic in that department, but isn't that always the way?) who said of Allen's therapist: "Good job."
Fast forward 20 years to a nation in a hurry and where sensibility is suspect and we have a Geico commercial (thank heaven with no gekko) in which a drill sergeant is a therpist. With scorn and derision, he shouts at a prone patient, throwing a box of tissues his way, and telling him to grow up.
It isn't kosher to be sad, or to hurt, or to grieve. No time. Suck it up. Duck when the box of tissues comes your way and smile bravely. Be ok at church and ok at work and just ok in general.
But some sensitivity can be a lifesaver. Just for a little while. Maybe the guy on the couch in the geico commercial had just lost his mother or worse, a child.
The other day we were driving and saw a man pushing an empty wheelchair with some possessions on it. We chuckled, until we realized he was homeless.
What happened to understanding and love? At the risk of breaking a heart, what happened to sensitivity?
Fast forward 20 years to a nation in a hurry and where sensibility is suspect and we have a Geico commercial (thank heaven with no gekko) in which a drill sergeant is a therpist. With scorn and derision, he shouts at a prone patient, throwing a box of tissues his way, and telling him to grow up.
It isn't kosher to be sad, or to hurt, or to grieve. No time. Suck it up. Duck when the box of tissues comes your way and smile bravely. Be ok at church and ok at work and just ok in general.
But some sensitivity can be a lifesaver. Just for a little while. Maybe the guy on the couch in the geico commercial had just lost his mother or worse, a child.
The other day we were driving and saw a man pushing an empty wheelchair with some possessions on it. We chuckled, until we realized he was homeless.
What happened to understanding and love? At the risk of breaking a heart, what happened to sensitivity?
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Pooie! He's Doing Just Fine
"Obama is not passionate enough!@&&&%4; Obama is Dr. Spock! Barack is Carter! The Gulf is Obama's Katrina." David Korn is right. The press doesn't know what to do so they criticize the "optics."
Leave the poor guy alone. Cover a state house somewhere. Do something useful, for crying out loud.
Those of us who are still partisans are tired of fulminating, fatuous, fractious (I'm resisting the impulse to add "f@@@@%%&*s) who populate the Sunday talk shows.
My solution? Turn on Book TV. At least most of the guys there know what they're talking about.
Leave the poor guy alone. Cover a state house somewhere. Do something useful, for crying out loud.
Those of us who are still partisans are tired of fulminating, fatuous, fractious (I'm resisting the impulse to add "f@@@@%%&*s) who populate the Sunday talk shows.
My solution? Turn on Book TV. At least most of the guys there know what they're talking about.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Childish Fun
Dear Ones:
our attention was recently drawn to an old psychiatric theorist named Eric Berne. His goldmine was a book, I'm OK, You're OK which popularized his Transactional Psychology. In it, he described the three parts of every "transaction" (interaction between consenting adults) as emanating from their 'parent' or controlling, punitive manner; their 'adult" or pretty grown up manner, and their "child," or whiney, dependent, submissive manner.
Somebody hauled this old wheeze out to illustrate a point today, and we (grandma letty and husband john) had a flash of insight.
Berne's child may have been a rather unappealing person; John's "child" is a fun-loving, playful hoot. Therefore, when my punitive, controlling parent confronts his child, I laugh. Long and Hard. And we have what amounts to an adult-adult transaction which insists 'We're oK.
Now Berne may have postulated this funny child, but I certainly don't remember it. For years, people like the late Art Linkletter (before your time, little ones, but google him) had been making hay with funny, funny children. His early TV show included "Kids Say the Darndest Things" (has anyone put these on UTube?) and all America tuned in and guffawed. I tell you, as I remember Berne had a very dim view of children. Did I mention he was a psychiatrist? I think when God passed out funny bones, all the psychiatrsts were asleep on their couches.
Also, as an aside, kids, Rachel outdid herself tonight. Broadcasting in a snuggie, she celebrated my guys for "rolling out the couches" for an all-nighter on the Senate Floor, only to have McConnel and Co. fold their filibuster. Harry Reid may lose his election, it seems, but Chuck Shumer is on deck to lead the Senators and I betcha he'll "roll out the couches"at the drop of a Republican cliche. That's what it takes.
our attention was recently drawn to an old psychiatric theorist named Eric Berne. His goldmine was a book, I'm OK, You're OK which popularized his Transactional Psychology. In it, he described the three parts of every "transaction" (interaction between consenting adults) as emanating from their 'parent' or controlling, punitive manner; their 'adult" or pretty grown up manner, and their "child," or whiney, dependent, submissive manner.
Somebody hauled this old wheeze out to illustrate a point today, and we (grandma letty and husband john) had a flash of insight.
Berne's child may have been a rather unappealing person; John's "child" is a fun-loving, playful hoot. Therefore, when my punitive, controlling parent confronts his child, I laugh. Long and Hard. And we have what amounts to an adult-adult transaction which insists 'We're oK.
Now Berne may have postulated this funny child, but I certainly don't remember it. For years, people like the late Art Linkletter (before your time, little ones, but google him) had been making hay with funny, funny children. His early TV show included "Kids Say the Darndest Things" (has anyone put these on UTube?) and all America tuned in and guffawed. I tell you, as I remember Berne had a very dim view of children. Did I mention he was a psychiatrist? I think when God passed out funny bones, all the psychiatrsts were asleep on their couches.
Also, as an aside, kids, Rachel outdid herself tonight. Broadcasting in a snuggie, she celebrated my guys for "rolling out the couches" for an all-nighter on the Senate Floor, only to have McConnel and Co. fold their filibuster. Harry Reid may lose his election, it seems, but Chuck Shumer is on deck to lead the Senators and I betcha he'll "roll out the couches"at the drop of a Republican cliche. That's what it takes.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Jokes that fly over their heads
We oldsters often slide sly silly sayings past puzzled people. I have an example: On the commuter train, the Coater, I so often stood in line for the car's toilet that i finally told the next guy in line, "I have an antique bladder."
Back at the trailer park, they thought that was pretty funny.
The other day my hairdresser, a slip of a girl, called me "A foolish old woman." I was so pleased I promptly got a badge fabricated that said"Foolish Old Woman". I wear it on special occasions.
One day I was holding an open house for an owner who was addicted to Glen Beck. I was asked by more rational friends, "How do you stand it?"Simple, I told them. I just turn off my hearing aid. If the whole world did that, it would be a saner place. As a matter of fact, it's a durn shame that everyone doesn't have a hearing aid which could shut out Glen Beck.
My baby girl has a 47th birthday in a few days and I hope to send her a check. If the market behaves, I'll withdraw a bit and do that. But you know, the market is almost as quixotic as Glen Beck.
The other day, John McCain said he had never been a Maverick. Well, I'm his age so I think I'll declare I never have been a Socialist. Wanna fight?
But I bet he has an antique bladder.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Premature, but Right at Last
I was so bummed about the Senate I retired and read and helped my husband write the book of the century about Russian Opera. Now, I have glimmers of hope again.
I got a card for Christmas, which is better than nothing. My boy, Barak, will get a bill signed by Easter, I betcha. I can only hope.
I salute the Heavenly Trio, Harry, Pelosi, and Barak for toughing up.
My major concern is aging, anyway. I was bonked by a car while I was parked and I'm chronically dizzy. Some of my friends would say that is normal, but it feels like a different dizzzy to me. Naturally, I'm aging at a different rate from some of my friends; that is difficult.
I'm happy because our house is paid for and our taxes are minimal and we are better off than almost everyone. I'd celebrate, but I'm a bit too dizzy to do that!
Love to all the little ones. Jessica is getting married in October so we'll get a grandson in law. Hooray..
I got a card for Christmas, which is better than nothing. My boy, Barak, will get a bill signed by Easter, I betcha. I can only hope.
I salute the Heavenly Trio, Harry, Pelosi, and Barak for toughing up.
My major concern is aging, anyway. I was bonked by a car while I was parked and I'm chronically dizzy. Some of my friends would say that is normal, but it feels like a different dizzzy to me. Naturally, I'm aging at a different rate from some of my friends; that is difficult.
I'm happy because our house is paid for and our taxes are minimal and we are better off than almost everyone. I'd celebrate, but I'm a bit too dizzy to do that!
Love to all the little ones. Jessica is getting married in October so we'll get a grandson in law. Hooray..
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