Monday, December 13, 2004

643 Christmas Party Night

Snow fell today--quite vigorously in the morning--so we have a light dusting on the ground. The neighbor's colored lights are festive, about 20 feet from my office window. Tonight is the art league's Christmas dinner at Ciao Restaurant. It's a group my husband help to establish about 35 years ago. We're all aging, so a restaurant was the choice rather than a pot-luck dinner as in years past. We no longer have workshops or demonstrations. Pay your dues and get in a show.


Window scene

Friday night we had a dinner party here for our Visual Arts Ministry. Just a comfortable size for our dining room, and everyone stayed until almost 11 p.m. It wasn't too many years ago it seems we had eight or ten parties and gatherings to fit in. Church groups, art groups, concerts, professional groups, parties at homes. Next week-end we'll drive to Indiana for the family Christmas--there are always little ones and babies still starry eyed with excitement. My sister-in-law now has three great-grandbabies, so we shouldn't run out of children for awhile.

Sunday, December 12, 2004

642 Who has more fun than a librarian?

If you "Google" your own name, it is hard to tell what might come up and where. Recently I found a short review of a book that I think I may have written in the 90s for a veterinary medicine library newsletter--can no longer remember. But today I found it on a Target book sale site. It is possible that I sent a copy of the review to the author and she decided to use it in marketing. I'm credited for it--but I didn't write it for the purpose of selling books through Target, but for librarians in selecting titles for special collections. It even reads as though I'm writing for other librarians, because only a librarian would know how much fun it is to be one--a well kept secret, and I also tongue-in-cheek poke a little fun at the general public's view of us as sensibly shod shushers.


Complete Guide to Horse Careers

"Does anyone have more fun than a librarian? First we get to spend money (not our own) on books; then we get to look at them while they still smell good and are clean; then we get to admire and benefit from all the hard work that went into making a product that delivers (most of the time). Such is the book, "The Complete Guide To Horse Careers" by Sue Reynolds who, after she steps out of the saddle, surely must put on her practical sensible shoes and glasses and step behind a reference desk, because this lady knows how to put information together . (The cover says she has a masters degree in education and is a reading specialist who is a horse enthusiast and freelance writer---close enough.) Although she introduces the Internet on page 2, every chapter has a resource list of associations, people, e-mail addresses, articles, books, and websites. She keeps the reader interested with check-lists, line drawings, photos, boxes of tips from experts in the field, career profiles and economic forecasts."

Saturday, December 11, 2004

641 The Good-bye Letter

We were surprised to see our former home for sale again--50% more than we sold it for just three years ago. We don't know why they are selling--I hope it is for happy reasons like a new job, and not for something unhappy like debt or divorce. I couldn't resist going on line at the Realtor's site and snooping through the rooms. Oh my--the pink stripe and floral wallpaper is still in my daughter's bedroom. That junior high age boy must not be happy about that even with the red football bed spread. The new kitchen is wow-worthy, but too bad they got rid of the formal dining room to do it. In blog 640 I wrote about Christmas letters. The Christmas of 2001, I wrote a letter about the house, called "Good-bye Old Friend," which I repeat here.

Yes, I know. We were going to be faithful to the end. But we can’t say a relationship of 34 years was exactly a failure, now, can we? I saw you the first time in January 1968--it seems like it was New Year’s Day, but who would have an “open house by owner” on a holiday? Anyway, it was in a cold January snow storm. We must have been the first people through, and then we went home to our apartment on Farleigh Road to discuss it. We were both so excited. Even then, we knew if we both liked something we should grab it because we almost never were able to compromise--one or the other had to give in.

You were more fabulous than we had ever expected--3 bedrooms, a bath and a half, a kitchen with eating space, dining room, big living room with fireplace, and a cute little den with a walk-out deck as its roof. Your redwood siding was painted white and big black shutters guarded every window. Heavy wood storm windows hung on every window. Just about everything inside was white too except the dining room which had wild blue and green and white flowers. Not as white as it looked, however. They had freshened the paint only up to their furniture--huge antiques.

In spite of the weather, we could see that the street was gorgeous with huge 30 year old trees. Even without leaves, the street announced it would be lush in the summer. There was a creek at the end of the street and stately, well designed, more expensive homes all around. You were about my age--28--and that seemed an “old” house, yet newer than the ones we’d owned on White Street and Charles Street in Champaign, Illinois. I wasn’t sure about a standing seam metal roof, but my husband said they were wonderful, and shouldn’t an architect know? He didn’t notice that one had to walk through the laundry room and bathroom to get to the den. “I can’t believe that,” he said when we were back at the apartment and I was pointing out some minor flaws. “I surely would’ve noticed that.” But I was right, and it was our love at first sight that blinded us to your shortcomings (fixable as we learned).

The owners had just replaced the furnace in December. We knew that the only reason you were affordable was the lack of a basement--but our previous homes’ basements weren’t too great. White Street had a partial dirt floor--and a slab seemed an improvement over that! We made an offer and it was accepted--the sellers even had to pay us a little rent because we wanted it before they were ready to go.

You see, we were in a hurry because of the baby. A friend (who just died this year) came by to baby sit on Farleigh while we went to the closing. You seemed to like the baby--she almost never cried in the bright southeast bedroom where we put her green crib and dresser and the extra double bed. In fact, we used to wake her up when people came to visit because she slept about 20 out of 24 hours. Then in a year, February 1969, there was another baby for the northeast bedroom, and the house was never quiet again for 18 years.

Yes, we did almost split up a few times, like in 1977 and 1987 and 1994. I went through a stage of lusting after newer homes and more conservative school districts, and once we came close to buying a new two-story in Dublin. Our daughter's social life in fourth grade wasn’t the greatest, and our son needed a different kind of school. But we decided to stay. Did you know I used to sneak out to open houses regularly on Sundays? Once the kids were in high school, it was really too late to move. Instead, we remodeled the kitchen in 1978 and the bathrooms in 1980 and added a family room. That stopped the itchy foot for awhile.

But in 1986 the family split up. Like me, you may have felt abandoned by the children. I had empty nest syndrome big time, so I thought I’d move away--if you can‘t beat ‘em, join ‘em. I looked through the real estate ads, even some places in the country. I wanted something different; something with no memories; something NOT home. Then in 1988 we bought our cottage on Lake Erie and were busy fixing it up and falling in love. Perhaps you felt doubly abandoned--all we could talk about was our cutesy, cutesy new love.

After the big blow-out 1993 wedding parties here on your new brick patio and all freshened with new paint and wall paper and wonderful new big closets, you were probably surprised to hear me once again talk of moving in 1994--and to a condo no less. We covered you up with vinyl siding, preserving the trim for authenticity. The art studio added in the early 70s became temporarily an office when my husband left the down town firm in 1994.

In 1995 we had just converted the family room built in ’79 to a big wonderful office, and probably you thought we were set until his retirement. He dutifully went over to Mill Run to look at the new builds and promptly noted that he didn’t want to live in the kitchen (called a great room in modern real estate speak). We continued to look off and on, but usually couldn’t get any agents to take us seriously.

After I retired in 2000, I decided you were just the perfect house, after all. Something I hadn’t said the previous 33 years. You had location, location, location, and for retirees, it turns out that is pretty good stuff for people who don’t enjoy spending their waking hours behind the wheel of a car. For two years our names had been on a Lane Woods condo, a mile from here, in the site of a former gravel pit, now hoity-toity with new expensive houses. When it came time to sign the dotted line, I couldn’t--price seemed about $100,000 more than when we first signed up. So I refurbished the master bath in 2001.

But one day last summer, almost a fluke, we saw a condo on a beautiful lot, where they still put the mail through the door slot and it is still in our community. We made an offer and then put you up for sale. Now a new young family with three children are as thrilled as we were 34 years ago. You probably won’t even miss us in a heart beat. We had a great final Christmas with the kids here opening presents and laughing and teasing like old times.


Last Christmas in the House

Please be good and don’t leak or creak. It’s OK for your metal roof to sing during rain storms or when the squirrels throw acorns, however. Most people aren’t used to 32 windows, so watch out and don’t blind anyone with the occasional Ohio sun. There will be lots of children playing in the yard now, so please hang on to the grass for awhile, or until the new owner can work his magic. (I hear he is a specialist in weeds, which might be good.)

Always know we love you and will have fond memories.
Love, Norma

640 Don't let the Grinch steal your Christmas letter

It is that time of year when pundits, pastors and PollyAnnas remind us to save money, time and paper and not send the ubiquitous Christmas letter. Who are they to diminish our fun? We've already had 2 or 3 wonderful letters (so, they not only HAVE grandchildren, but they speak French or Italian) and two family photos of weddings/reunions. I love this stuff. The letter today we got from Dave and Gina brought back some wonderful memories of when we lived together in 1963. (They lived in the upstairs apartment and we lived downstairs.) And after 50 years of a buzz it looks like Dave has let his hair grow out and he has curls! Tim, a widower, is planning to move out of his home and just start travelling across the country in an RV. I look forward to hearing the rest of the accounts of 2004 and the plans for 2005. With blogging, I have no more secrets to tell about my life, but I'll probably put a letter together if my husband can get one of his paintings on to a card. I'm not sure some of my cousins twice removed have internet access.

Friday, December 10, 2004

639 Title Inflation and the Big Cheese

Some companies inflate titles instead of paychecks. If they can't or won't give a salary increase, they assign a new title to the old job. Publishers predictably pile on plump pro-bono promotions. Look at the list of "editors" for Wired Magazine.

Editor in Chief
Executive editor
Managing editor
Deputy editor
Assistant managing editor
Senior editors (7)
Products editor
Senior associate editor
Assistant editors (2)
Copy editors
Research editor
Assistant research editors (3)
Editorial assistant
Assistant to the Editor in Chief
Editorial interns (4)
Editorial projects director
Editor at large
Contributing editors (31)
Photo editor
Deputy photo editor
Founding editor
Editorial Director

The marketing side of the business is almost as bad as the editorial side.

Advertising director
West Coast advertising director
Travel and Spirits director
LA director
Detroit director
Southeast director
Executive director, Marketing Services
Creative services director
Promotion director
Sales development director
Strategic marketing director
Marketing research director
Marketing design director
Associate marketing design director
Advertising services director

Once you move to the Publisher listing (Conde Nast Publication, Advance Magazine Group), everyone (21 people) on the masthead is either a President or Vice President except for the Chairman. The Chairman stands alone. Like the cheese. Big cheese.

Thursday, December 09, 2004

638 Scott Peterson and Terri Schiavo

I don't believe in the death penalty--not for Scott Peterson, who has been convicted of killing his wife because he is worthless as a husband, or for Terri Schiavo, whose husband is attempting to kill her with the help of the State of Florida because she is useless as a wife. It really makes little sense. Mr. Peterson, who had a girl friend when his wife was 9 months pregnant, is obviously not a very nice man, but the evidence against him is really paltry and uncompelling. The evidence against Mr. Schiavo who wants his wife dead and has had a girlfriend most of the time she's been ill is overwhelming, and he will go "scot" free.

Terri in better days



Scott and Laci in better days

But imagine this. If Scott Peterson had been a homely, short, fat, toll booth operator, we never would have heard of him, and I'm betting he never would have been charged. Women are killed by their husbands (and husbands by wives) everyday, and the media never get involved. His story became a media obsession--most likely because he is photogenic.

637 Deadly Damage

"COLUMBUS, Ohio(AP) It looked like something out of a macabre heavy-metal video: The lights dimmed in the smoke-filled nightclub, the rock band Damageplan launched into its first thunderous riffs, and then a man in a hooded sweatshirt ran the length of the stage and opened fire, shooting the lead guitarist at least five times in the head.

In just minutes, the gunman had killed three others before being shot to death by a police officer."

A local man remembers playing at that club.


Damageplan from BBC story

Wednesday, December 08, 2004

636 Job for Super-Nag

No one wants to be nagged. I'm the exception to that rule. I need a first class, non-stop nagger, to start immediately. No pay. You don't need to DO these jobs--just nag me until I get them done.

1. Have to get my eyes checked. Can hardly see. I'm actually dangerous on the road at night. I'm assuming it is cataracts--but glaucoma runs in the family. They also itch.

2. Have to call about my new Whirlpool refrigerator. It has one temperature--super cold.

3. Have to have my laptop checked. Can only get the logo. No programs come up. (Could call the guy at Chem Abstracts who fixed my PC the last time, but I don't.) Mouse on the PC is also being cranky.

4. Have to check on my health insurance. I understand nothing about Medicare and my Supplemental STRS, and have no idea if I have the right thing (possibly can outsource this nagging to my daughter, a medical office manager who understands insurance).

5. The van needs an oil change, and it's beginning to look like trash bin and I need to clean it out so I'm not embarrassed if I offer someone a ride.

6. Attic over garage got dirty when the roof was replaced. Need to find someone with a commercial vacuum to clean it.

7. A letter I promised to type (and edit) for my husband has been on my desk for four days. He's a patient man but. . .

8. I need to finish the books I've started, or return them to the library.

9. I'm several months behind in my magazine blog. I should either get busy and write, or stop buying new magazines.

10. I need to have the white living room rug shampooed and reversed. (Why do they put coloring in pet food--dogs and cats are color blind.)

Tuesday, December 07, 2004

635 The Long Good-bye--to Academic Libraries

The Chronicle of Education has an article on the coming disappearance of the academic library. Not tomorrow or next year, but soon.



William Oxley Thompson Library, Ohio State University

634 Today's quiz

At my "other, other blog" (I have five), Church of the Acronym, I pose this challenge, "Name a large evangelical church with female pastoral or board leadership."

Over at LISNews, the discussion getting the most attention is about Sunday night's TNT Made for TV Movie, "The Librarian." The question is, Is it possible for librarians to ever enjoy a romp through an outrageous story, or must they always get mired down in reality? Read the review plus 27 comments (as of 11 a.m. on Tuesday).

Here in Ohio, it's now official. All ballots have been counted. George W. Bush won the election. (One third party candidate who received one write in vote, is demanding a recount). My question: Will the Democrats ever accept the count?

Monday, December 06, 2004

633 The Chapped Baby

Not really. This is my great-nephew (my brother's grandson) wearing his "chaps" that his mommy made for him. Mom and Dad love to ride horses. Isn't this just so cute!

Chapped baby

The term "Chaps" comes from the Spanish word chaparajos from chaparreras and means leather leggings joined together by a belt or lacing and worn by ranch hands.

With this cute baby photo, I announce I've joined "Homespun Bloggers" and you'll see the hot button all the way down on the left. This is a group for bloggers who are not professional writers, who just like to blog, and are "family friendly." One requirement of joining is you feature other Homespun bloggers (I do a lot of that already), and the main page also features a "best of Homespun" group. I've looked through several, and they are indeed wholesome and good natured. Click on the button. You too might be homespun, even if your nephew doesn't wear chaps.

Sunday, December 05, 2004

632 Adult Attention Deficit Disorder

The current issue of FDA Consumer has an article on adult attention deficit hyperactivity disorder.


FDA Cover Nov/Dec 2004

"It seemed that the harder he tried, the worse things got for Robert Jergen. As a child, he was always being scolded by his parents and teachers. As an adult, his bosses reprimanded him for missed deadlines and his attitude problem. He got fired from jobs, drank heavily, and lost his fiancé.

But Jergen wasn't a slouch, a drunk, or intentionally obnoxious. He had a condition called attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD).

"I wanted to be a good kid, but I frequently did things without thinking or without even realizing that I did them," says Jergen. Problems with concentration continued to plague him as an adult. In college, Jergen would stay up all night trying to finish his schoolwork. "I could not focus my attention on the page long enough to read a paragraph. My thoughts raced round and round in my head. It's like my mind was a pinball machine with five or six balls smashing into each other." "

There are drugs that can help, but it may take some trial and error to get the right one, and there are side effects.

631 Premier of Christmas at Maxwell's, a Christmas movie

Busy day yesterday. We hung two art shows, one at the Church at Mill Run (photography by Joe Wagehals) and one at the Church on Lytham (Members All Media Art Show V), both of which will run from December 4 to January 8, 2005. Some of our Visual Arts Ministry members were out of town, but we got the job done, and were packed and on the road by 1:15.

We had reservations for the big Christmas dinner at Wesley Lodge in Lakeside, where we have a summer home. After a dinner of 28 turkeys (to serve over 300 guests) and every imaginable dish-to-pass from corn pudding, to cranberry jello to German Chocolate Pie we all trooped down to the local theater, Orchestra Hall (the only movie theater in Ottawa County, Ohio) to see Christmas at Maxwell's. We were all given evaluation forms, and there may be some changes made based on audience input. The movie should be out for next Christmas, and the DVD will have two different endings, both of which we saw (everyone we talked to like the second ending better). The big thrill for the locals was seeing the Lakeside shots, because much of the story takes place at Maxwell's Bed and Breakfast at Third and Walnut. Too bad there wasn't any snow for the shooting--just our gray Ohio skies, but it was fun anyway, and I'm sure all Lakesiders will buy the DVD when it comes out.



Orchestra Hall in the summer


Maxwell's in the summer Posted by Hello

Saturday, December 04, 2004

630 Sweet Kitty Christmas

Paula, a writer on my blogroll, has recently been adopted by the prettiest cat--looks part Siamese like the sweety we used to have. This Kitty Christmas Card is for Paula and all cat lovers. (Be sure to look at her Friday, Dec. 3 for a photo.)

Friday, December 03, 2004

629 Profile of Terrorism

"Most people think that terrorism comes from poverty, broken families, ignorance, immaturity, lack of family or occupational responsibilities, weak minds susceptible to brainwashing — the sociopath, the criminals, the religious fanatic, or, in this country, some believe they’re just plain evil.

Taking these perceived root causes in turn, three quarters of my sample [400 terrorists, members of Al-Qaeda] came from the upper or middle class. The vast majority — 90 percent — came from caring, intact families. Sixty-three percent had gone to college, as compared with the 5-6 percent that’s usual for the third world. These are the best and brightest of their societies in many ways.

Al Qaeda’s members are not the Palestinian fourteen-year- olds we see on the news, but join the jihad at the average age of 26. Three-quarters were professionals or semi- professionals. They are engineers, architects, and civil engineers, mostly scientists. Very few humanities are represented, and quite surprisingly very few had any background in religion. The natural sciences predominate."

Read the rest of the terrorist profile in Understanding Terrorists Networks by Marc Sageman

628 I cry along with Natalia

You know of my fondness for beautiful poetry, for Russians and for women writers (see my blogroll). So here is Natalia Zaretsky, a New Yorker, a Russian immigrant (1980), a former Physics teacher, and now a poet in her retirement--and she has published not only in e-zines, but in paper! See if this doesn't touch you.

FROM A LONG LIST

In Central Park along the lake,
I used to speed like that girl with the earphones,
and my T-shirt was tight on my waist.
Now the geletin of age slows my life.

I used to walk along Jerusalem streets,
laugh under the waterfall in Ein Gedi,
breathe in the aroma of Galilee orange groves.
Now my feet are laden with lung illness.

My father, tall, strong, used to visit me
from the city every weekend, not knowing
a word of English -- and never get lost.
Now he stays home -- Alzheimer's
acids away his Russian words.

I see my talented daughter on stage,
the audience in one breath with
every staccato, every trill.
I fancy her daughter on my knees,
trying not to squeeze her too tight,
afraid my heart will stop.
I cry -- I don't have a granddaughter.
[published in the e-zine, Moonwort Review #8]

Her first book of poetry entitled AUTUMN SOLSTICE has been published by Windsong Publishing Co., CA. Her manuscript MEMORIES BELOW THE BRIDGE will be published by the same publisher by the end of 2004. She is working on a manuscript on her Jewish identity, anti-Semitism in Russia, and her love for Israel, which she has visited several times.


Natalia Posted by Hello

Welcome, Natalia, to my blogroll.

Thursday, December 02, 2004

627 Optimism and Good Health Care in America

Babs, the new mother of a Russian baby, has been sick and also has been watching movies while decorating the Christmas tree--Dr. Zhivago and It's a Wonderful Life. She has some good things to say about optimism--USA vs. Russia, and getting well after a strep infection.

She writes:

"You want to go to high school beyond the age of 16? Show up. Wanna go to college but can't afford it? Borrow the money from the government (eg: your neighbors). Lost your job? Call the unemployment/welfare office. Don't want to go into the military? Don't go. Welcome to America.

Even after the collapse of the Soviet Union and the beginning of controlled capitalism, there's still pervasive fatigue and scepticism. As America's population continues to climb in part due to immigration, Russia's is declining. People can leave so they do. It's hard to keep your nose to the grindstone if there's never any hope of it leading to you putting your feet up and drinking a toast to your success."

626 Elinor Burkett's So Many Enemies, So Little Time

She was an ardent 60s Leftist, a True Believer, you might say. She had helped establish two Women's Studies programs and had taught women's history. She had little use for Liberal Democrats, whose programs she thought of as band-aids. I can't remember why I checked out her book published in July, So Many Enemies, So Little Time; an American Woman in All the Wrong Places. However, it is a real eye-opener, regardless of your party affiliation or religion. She discovered in the post 9/11 years travelling and teaching in a former Soviet Republic, Afghanistan, Iran and Iraq, that her gender shaped the reality of everything she saw and experienced. Being a woman, she was usually where she shouldn't have been. She was sure the Feminists back home would applaud what the Bush Administration was doing abroad--freeing millions women from slavery, early death, illiteracy and imprisonment in their own homes--even if they had complaints about his domestic policies. Boy, was she wrong!

In an interview with FrontPage, she says: "So when I came home, I fully expected the feminist movement to be up in arms, demanding that the U.S. government do more to defend these women, marching on the United Nations in defense of their sisters.

Instead, I found NOW working on its annual Love Your Body Day. And if I didn't hit a wall earlier, I hit it several weeks ago during the March for Women's Lives. Whoopi Goldberg declared that "there's a war going on, a war against women." I agreed. Unfortunately, we were talking about different wars.

The marchers insisted that George W. Bush is the world's greatest threat to women. What I'd seen and heard during a year's travels was that Muslim fundamentalists were the world's greatest threat to women. That's certainly what the women I met - on the street, in the market, in the classroom, on buses and during interviews - told me. They weren't worried about access to abortion. They were worried about access to jobs, about the right to work, about the right to run to the store without having to cover themselves, about the right to select their own husband, the right to educate themselves and their daughters.

And a march focused on George Bush and access to abortion belittled their situations and their struggles. How can you care about women, as the feminists insist they do, and not care about the actual threats to their lives?

Fortunately, I discovered shortly after I returned home, the current administration didn't need NOW and the Feminist Majority to march down Pennsylvania Avenue in order to reach out to women who live under the threat of Muslim fundamentalists. They understand that we - Americans - share an enemy with these women. By defending them, we defend ourselves."

Writing about her time in Kryrgyzstan teaching basic Journalism, she takes aim at NGOs (practically a cottage industry for Americans and Europeans who want to live abroad on easy grant money) and Christian missionary groups. Before you donate that next dollar, do take a look at what is going on in the name of "modernization" and/or Jesus.

My copy was checked out through OhioLink from Southern State Community College, but this is a title that needs to be more widely available, and a woman who needs to be on the program at a college near you.

Burkett's new book Posted by Hello

Chapter One of So Many Enemies, So Little Time (HarperCollins, 2004).

Wednesday, December 01, 2004

625 Six Reasons to be Late to the Party

Recently an acquaintance of my husband and me asked if we could provide transportation for an event we all attend once a week. I paused a moment before I agreed, because I had noticed that she always arrives about 5 minutes late. However, she is an interesting person, and I'd been looking for opportunities to meet new people. To pick her up was only 5 minutes out of our way. I told her I would be happy to help, but noted that I would pick her up 15 minutes before the hour because we like to arrive early so that we are not rushed.

The first night wasn't too bad--she was 5 minutes late getting to the car, and I could see through her front window that she was bustling around getting ready, but I still had time to get to the event without walking in late. The second week when I pulled up in front of her house, she came out to the car and told me she had another ride. The third week the phone rang as we were putting on our coats, and she said she would be ready at 10 minutes before the hour.

My husband went ahead in the other car, and I pulled up to her house at 10 minutes before the hour. Her son ran out and held up 5 fingers saying she would be out in 5 minutes. At 3 minutes before the hour I went up to the door and knocked--but no one came. At 2 minutes before the hour I honked and then left and went to the event, arriving late with no time for preparation.

Obviously, this transportation arrangement won't work. But it has caused me to think about people who are habitually late. We all have acquaintances and friends with this habit, and if we value and enjoy their friendship, we grumble and accept the behavior that inconveniences so many people.

One dear friend was always 20 minutes late for our weekly get-together some years ago. The reasons she gave varied from traffic on Rt. 315, to a faulty alarm clock to a crazy work schedule. We changed our time by 20 minutes, but she then was that much later. She assured me that it was OK for her occasionally to be late to work because she worked harder and better than her co-workers which made up for a few missing minutes at the front of her shift.

Another friend often arrived late to our planned get-togethers and meetings, whether breakfast, lunch, professional or club. One time a whole group changed the day of the week that we met to accommodate her schedule, but her attendance was still spotty and she still arrived late.

Are they just being rude?

I don't think of tardiness as rudeness, but rather a learned behavior that could be overcome if there were good reason to change. It may be caused by the following:

1) For some, it is a control issue--particularly if it involves their spouses or children. They may not have any other control over their lives, but they can hold up a whole family or occasion just by "finishing this one last thing," or losing a favorite necklace, or needing to let the dog out. Tardy wives are usually married to overbearing, bossy husbands, and always being late is a good way to grab back some of the power he has assumed over her life. If children are holding up the whole family, they probably learned that power struggle by watching Mom or Dad.

2) Some people enjoy the extra attention they receive, even if it is negative, when they rush into a room with hair askew, scarf and gloves being whisked off, papers rustling. All eyes turn to them instead of the speaker or leader.

3) There are cultural norms at work in the perception of tardiness. My ancestors came to the United States from Germany and England in the mid-1700s, but Americans of Asian, Indian, African, or Island heritage or other areas of Europe may perceive time very differently. We once belonged to a group where arriving 60-90 minutes late was considered appropriate for some of another cultural group. My Appalachian relatives also move to a different beat. We use many of the same English verbs with time concepts that we use with money: we save time, we invest time, we spend time, etc.

4) Metabolism or health may be the trigger for sense of time. I haven't known very many high energy, thin people who are also habitually late. People with a sluggish metabolism may need the pressure of being late to make the effort to speed up and move more quickly.

5) Some people enjoy the appearance of being extremely busy--too much on their calendar, too much to do, "too many people want my time, so you are lucky to have me at all." Every snap of the briefcase and sigh of relief as they slip into place 10 or 20 minutes late build their egos.

6) But perhaps the biggest reason for being late is that tardy people enjoy the "rush" of adrenaline, that down-to-the wire frantic feeling when they can't possibly meet a deadline. It's a high that is better than a drug, and it is addictive. They find it very energizing--being on time doesn't provide that feeling. Some procrastinators need to pile everything up at the end in order to feel the energy to actually accomplish all the tasks they have left to the last minute. However, others overstep that and just fall into the sloppily-late group and will be decorating the tree or shampooing the dog when the guests arrive.

When the Prompt People and the Tardy Troopers are trying to plan something, the first thing to agree on is that the Tardies will continue to be late regardless, because their tardiness has nothing to do with time, date, schedule or location. Then, after there is an agreed upon time and date, both will agree that the Prompt will start (or drive off) without them.

Buy Me a Puppy Daddy

This is a rhyme about my parents--although it could be about anyone's. I don't remember why or when I wrote it, but I came across it in my draft file today. It reminds me that I'm so grateful that I had wonderful parents. But so often these days when I see what others my age are experiencing, I'm so grateful to God that he allowed them a dignified, peaceful and "healthy" home-going with family by their sides.

Buy me a puppy Daddy
Give me a horse, pretty please!
"Save your dimes and dollars, Baby,
Animals don’t grow on trees."

Tell me a story Mommy,
read me a volume or two!
"Write your own my dear daughter,
Read it to me when you’re through."