966 Writing your Memoirs

Deborah Santana, wife of Carlos Santana for 30 years, didn’t feel a sense of her own creativity, so she enrolled in a writing class in Oakland CA and wrote her memoirs, Space between the Stars, issued in hardcover and audio book this month. I listened to her interview on NPR, although I probably won’t read the book. Lives of entertainers are not on my to-do list.

I’m in a memoir writing class at our public library, but haven’t discovered anything--no skeletons in the closet, nothing longing to be set free, no drugs, sex and rock and roll. I’ve been married 45 years, grew up in two small towns in Illinois, lived almost 40 years in central Ohio and worked as a librarian in a variety of positions. Most of the really good stories can’t be told! What if I need to go back to work some day!

Some of the instructor’s prompts have been interesting, although I think I’ve scraped the bottom and sides of the memory barrel. My children have never shown any interest in family history, so I’m not sure for whom I’d been saving these. I have met some really interesting women in the class and have learned there are many ways to write down and preserve your past and that of your ancestors. One woman is using poetry, another family recipes and photographs, some are creating novels based on family stories, and some are combining straight genealogy with passed down stories. I enjoy listening during sharing time, and have helped others with editing. Last week Julian focused on grammar exercises and how to cut out wordiness [at this point in time, basically, in light of the fact, it is to be hoped, there is a desire on the part of. . .and so forth]. I was paired with a Korean woman who had taught English in Korea. She knew the rules much better than I who’d studied only the required freshman college English.

Deborah Santana has a lot more material to work with--she is bi-racial, bi-cultural, has dabbled in several religions, tried drugs, dated Sly Stone, and manages her famous husband’s business. The type of memoirs we focus on in my writing class are generally not for publication, except maybe using Kinkos or a print on demand publisher.

Maybe I’ll try that class on reliable but under-used perennials that starts next week.

965 Names for music groups

Coming up with an original name for your garage band must be tough. What if you really make it big? Does the name have to mean something? Should it reflect your roots? How about using a headline? Can you just put words in a hat and draw out 3 or 4, mix and twist, and that's the name? Here's some I found playing around the city this week.

Regonomics
Kola Koca Death Squad
Dogs Die in Hot Cars
Wigglepussy Indiana
Bloodlined Calligraphy
Poison Control Center
Code Blue Band
Principally Speaking
Moving to Boise

Lots of death, violence and mayhem in music these days. And then there's the ever popular,

No smoking
Open stage
Blues jam

What will librarians do with those names? Here's a list of rules for cataloging the names of performers. For example:

LCRI 24.4B: When establishing the heading for a performing group, apply the following:

If the name contains a word that specifically designates a performing group or a corporate body in general (e.g., band, consort, society) or contains a collective or plural noun (e.g., Ramblers, Boys, Hot Seven), do not add a designation to the name.

If the name is extremely vague, consisting primarily of single, common words (e.g., Circle, Who, Jets) or the name has the appearance of a personal name (e.g., Jethro Tull), add a designation to the name.

If the name falls between the above categories (e.g., Led Zeppelin, Jefferson Airplane, Road Apple, L.A. Contempo), add a designation to the name.

If there is doubt whether a designation should be added, add it.

Use the designation "(Musical group)" unless special circumstances (such as a conflict) require a more specific term.

I suspect that if the works of "Dogs Die in Hot Cars" ever get cataloged, the librarian will definitely need to add a designation.

964 Cruise Care

When we took an Alaskan Cruise in 2001, I was surprised to meet people who’d taken 15-20 cruises, and older people who appeared to be living on cruise ships, booking one cruise after another. Then in the February 2005 Harper’s Index, I noticed this comparison between living out your life on a luxury cruise ship or in an assisted living facility.

Average total cost for a U.S. eighty-year-old to live out the rest of his or her days on a luxury cruise ship: $230,497 [Lee Lindquist, Northwestern University Feinberg School of Medicine (Chicago)]

Average cost to live them out in an assisted-living facility: $228,075 [Lee Lindquist, Northwestern University Feinberg School of Medicine (Chicago)]

These figures are examined at Snopes Urban Legends, and found to not be too far off. Apparently there was an earlier version comparing nursing homes and living in the Holiday Inn. It also sites the Lindquist figures, although doesn’t say where they are published.

"Cruise ships offer such a range of amenities — such as three meals a day, often with escorts to meals if needed, room service, entertainment, accessible halls and cabins, housekeeping and laundry services and physicians on board — that they could actually be considered a floating assisted-living facility," says Lindquist. “

The author of the Snopes article says there are other, non-financial considerations, such as proximity to children and grandchildren, loss of friendships and volunteer activities. However, many retirees don’t live close to their children, and seeing them involves travel anyway. Many have already lost their best friends and burned out on volunteer activities. Perhaps the solution would be to have several travel together in lieu of relocating in an assisted-care facility.

963 Creativity

My friend Bev and I went to Capital University in Bexley today to see the 19th Biennial Exhibition of the Liturgical Art Guild, "Contemporary Works of Faith '05" which runs through April 8. It is in the Schumacher Gallery on the 4th floor of the library. We picked out a few pieces and gathered some information on the artists we'd like to pursue as possible exhibitors at our church's gallery. We had lunch at a little deli linked to the movie theater, and listened to two student jazz groups who had set up shop on Main Street. The weather was glorious and they drew a good crowd. One woman enjoyed the music so much she was dancing--probably in her 70s. Bev has a college age daughter in NY and knows various people in the music and arts community, so she kept running into people she knew from various life stages.

Bev is a creative person. Today I heard the most creative reason for not exercising, one I just must remember. She'd decided to begin a healthier life style--good nutrition and exercise. So she started the day with a bowl of steaming oatmeal. But the ceramic bowl was so hot she dropped it on her toe. Now she will have to postpone the exercise part, and I think the dog took care of the oatmeal. Way to go, Bev!

962 ABC headlines another “fake” memo

They didn’t say it was “Republican,” just "GOP." Duh! What were the listeners to think?
Story here, including reports on all the other rush to judgment media who ignored researching it first.

And
BlogHouston

also
PowerLine and PowerLine

and this
Michelle Malkin

and that
Rathergate

and In the Agora really went after it.

961 How to lose a wife with no questions asked

See? There are easier ways.

960 Maybe you're asking too much?

Lots of bloggers gripe about blogger.com as their hosting site. I don't--well, OK, sometimes I do. I think for something free and easy, it's pretty nifty. But I see a lot of sites that are asking way too much and just inviting failure. I left a note at The Crusader's comments. He's really unhappy about Blogger.com's performance. He's a Homespun blogger and I just stopped by to look at his site. There are Bible verses, books' adverts with photos, flags and symbols, all sorts of logos for things he cares about.

As you can see from the load of links I have, I should perhaps not be talking. But I do go through and remove those I think are causing problems. I'd love to have Sal Towse here, but every time I add her link, kaboom, the whole thing goes whacky, so I go to Paula or PJ or Hip Liz and link from them. I also try to not load too many photos and quizes, because I think they slow things down (and seem to add pop-ups and cookies). My note:

"Just an opinion, Mr. Crusader. You have an awful lot loaded on your page--even in your comments--which means more ways to fail. It's like buying the dishwasher or washing machine with all the gizmos, bells and whistles. Sometimes less is more in writing as blog as well as architecture.

I've noticed on mine, that certain links, even to individual bloggers, will cause mine to malfunction or load slowly, and I've had to remove them.

Also, if I've really worked hard on a post I either do it in wp first, or I block and copy before I hit draft. Then I check it, and publish. Occasionally even "draft" malfunctions, but if I've copied it I have it. I've noticed that "publish" in compose causes more problems than "publish" in html."

959 Tinker Tinker little Stat

There was an AP Story reported in today's Wall Street Journal that will have the economists and feminists rewriting the stats.

"A white woman with a bachelor's degree typically earned nearly $37,800 in 2003, compared with nearly $43,700 for a college-educated Asian woman and $41,100 for a college-educated black woman, according to data being released Monday by the Census Bureau. Hispanic women took home slightly less at $37,600 a year.

The bureau did not say why the differences exist. Economists and sociologists suggest possible factors: the tendency of minority women, especially blacks, to more often hold more than one job or work more than 40 hours a week, and the tendency of black professional women who take time off to have a child to return to the work force sooner than others."

They've even suggested that hiring incentives may have something to do with it.

I expect no protests on the campus by the women's studies department.

958 Don't know, don't care

That's a bit cavalier for a librarian to say about why children are hanging out at the library. At least these days. I'm guessing she'll bring that entry down soon. Librarians are already under fire for their snippy attitudes on filters to protect children and the Patriot Act. If you've ever been at a public library after 3 p.m. or on a school holiday, you'll see unattended children. Some are well behaved and quietly doing homework; others doing mischief and playing on the computers. Sort of free daycare by careless parents. I also see creepy adults I wouldn't want to sit next to. Some libraries in NJ, according to Conservator, consider unattended children under 6 as abandoned.

I just checked our county database for sex offenders in the library's zip code.

957 The Dream

If I can remember a dream, it is usually so fractured it is not worth repeating. The dream that woke me up this morning was a doozy, worth recording in my diary.

I was walking in a park in the dark when I saw what looked like an old 19th century bottle on a ledge, so I stepped off the path to retrieve it. When I picked it up I realized I couldn't get back up to the path, very wet and slippery, and besides the bottle half full of water looked like a fake. After some struggling and wiggling in the mud, I got back on the path and went into a restaurant which became a Bob Evans. I realized sitting in Bob Evans that I was in the wrong restaurant to meet my friend Adrienne. I left and got in my car and drove south on Olentangy (should've gone north). Realizing my mistake, I got on Lane Avenue heading west but ended up in a grassy field with no road. I looked at the houses lining Lane, and they didn't look at all familiar.

I saw what looked like a construction site, so I got out of the car. I walked around some large equipment and buildings and encountered some men talking about photographing the president. There were 2 doors in the main building and I saw a woman in a nice brown tweed pantsuit go upstairs through the one door. I figured she might be the secretary and wondered why she was so nicely dressed to work in such a shabby building. I went in the other door to ask for directions and a phone. A man, white-haired, about 50, was talking to someone, so I went outside to look for my car, but it was gone, and I also realized I didn't have my purse with the keys. I went back into the office and the man was leaning on the window taking photos with the most elaborate camera I'd ever seen. He was photographing the bubbles made by the rain on the window.

Finally, I get to tell him I'm lost. He explains that I'm not lost, I'm in the wrong century. That the president they were talking about is in the 22nd century (he called it the third century) and that people make this mistake all the time. They will either send me back to the 21st century, or they can bring my husband forward in time to join me.

The woman staffer (in brown tweed) then comes in the room with a small spiral bound book of photos of food (I was apparently to select something for dinner). I saw cole slaw and ham salad and remarked that things hadn't changed much in the third century and then I woke up. (I've never cared for science fiction.) I was on the couch; it was 5:20 a.m.

C-SPAN was broadcasting a meeting of photographers of the president. A noisy rain was hitting the windows. Beside me was a book about a 19th century ship that goes down in a hurricane and the recovery process of the ship and all the passengers' personal items. I'd had clam chowder and crackers for supper last night with various spreads including ham salad, and a very spicy creamcheese mix with salsa. It was Monday and I was supposed to meet Adrienne at the coffee shop (not Bob Evans) in an hour.

956 A quiet Easter

We had no one to spend the day with today, our daughter and son-in-law drove to Cleveland to spend time with his terminally ill mother and they ate at the nursing home, and our son had other plans. After church we enjoyed a much too big breakfast at First Watch.

But we had a wonderful Sunrise service at our church (and the sun was actually shining when we drove there) and were blessed to be the communion servers. I was a little nervous when we first volunteered for this, but now that I've done it a few times I can't think of anything I've done in recent years at church about which I've felt better. Having grown up in the Church of the Brethren where communion was a twice a year solemn service with a meal, foot washing and wearing a prayer covering, I had a bit of a struggle shifting my focus from something we the believers do to something God does. I remember when we took instruction in 1976 our pastor told us we could argue about anything we wanted (how well he knew me!), but Lutheran baptism and communion were not up for discussion and if I had doubts, I shouldn't join.

Then this afternoon we went to see "Finding Neverland" the movie about James Barrie the author of Peter Pan. Johnny Depp plays Barrie and we thought he did an outstanding job--actually all the cast did. If you haven't seen the movie yet, do go. It will restore your faith in the film industry. I hadn't read the reviews before we went, but checked them when I got home, and they were all A or A+.

955 Colorado Blogging

Twylah, who blogged at Lutheran in a Tipi, is folding her tent and moving on to other activities, but she has promised to stop by from time to time and make comments. I have another Colorado blogger Babs, Girl in Right, who actually uses the same blogger template that Twylah used. She's a former NCAA champion and a new adoptive mother of a Russian toddler. Recently she's been wondering where the feminists are in the Terri Schiavo death by starvation case. She's done a search and found silence.

I seem to recall a case 20 years back when the battle was between the parents of a brain injured Lesbian and her partner. The parents were next of kin and the partner had no rights. I believe we heard quite a bit from feminists in that case--and the partner won the right to bring her home. If Terri were a Lesbian, an African-American, or an endangered Sanibel Island rice rat this case might have ended differently.

954 Young and eager to take on the world

This morning (I'm going to Sunrise Service) I came across Patrick's blog about Colby College in Maine. I think he has graduated and moved on but still keeps in touch with the campus and Maine issues. I think I attended Colby. I'd check my transcript to be sure, except I know absolutely that Maine is such a fabulous place for a college co-ed to spend the summer, that I didn't have my credits transferred (didn't want to mess up my grade point). I had such a great time, that I'm not even sure it was Colby! I need to check a Maine website and see what other small colleges are in that area.

See? Librarians know how to have fun--at least before library school.

953 Blogging problems

This has jumped ahead a bit since I see I've repeated a few numbers in the 940s. I can correct them, but then that messes up the entry title, which has already been picked up for the internet aggregators.

Plus, blogging has been a bear lately. I think people are really jumping in and blogger.com can't keep up, nor can the "ping" sites, which have been malfunctioning.
I just tried to revise my template and got a huge error message about an entry on March 21. Well, duh. Why tell me now? So I'll try sending this one through and hope that cleans it up the template problem. Sometimes that works.

In addition, if I want the window where I type to come up faster, I can't see the numbering, which is why I often make mistakes (and I'm number-challenged).

951 Those of us who volunteer. . .

We see many people like this in nursing homes. Loved, cared for, manicured, shampooed, read to, responding, smiling, happy people. These people are Terri.



Photo from Bayly Blog

950 The Exercise Outfits Drawer Spring Cleaning

This week I washed all the sweaters I've only worn occasionally this past winter (which isn't giving up yet here in Central Ohio). I used to have sweaters dry cleaned, but the last two dry cleaners left such an awful odor in the fabric, I had to let the clothes air out in the garage. I'm not taking any chances with that gunk next to my skin! Besides, if they are ruined or faded by the soap and water, for some it will be no great loss.

As I was looking for a place to put them until I decide if I want to keep or donate (places that take donations don't want winter clothes in March), I opened two drawers in my closet that have reminders that I haven't been in an exercise class for 2 years. Then I decided those shirts and shorts and pants needed to be sorted for keep-or-throw-away too, but needed to be washed first.

The t-shirts are some of my favorites; 1) a pink and black shirt with a smug cat saying, "I don't do mousework;" 2) Readmore's "So many books so little time;" 3) Shedd Museum in Chicago logo for its beautiful colors; and 4) Many "Walk with Majors" (book distributor) from Medical Library Association conferences in various cities like San Antonio, Boston and Seattle. It's hard to give up some of those memories, so I refolded them and made a special drawer just for exercise clothes. (I've written about this problem at our cottage too.)

Then I created a memory pile on the floor, items to be given away like the white jeans, size 8. Those days of the mid-90s will never come around again. A lavender stipe shirt that always looked ugly on me (wrong color for pale skin) and is about 20 years old; a stretchy fabric capri pants with orange, red and pink flowers that makes my husband scream when I put it on (also too tight); a sleeveless t-shirt I bought in Florida in 1987 (rarely worn).

Next I piled up the "think about it" outfits I specifically bought for aerobics class in 2001. These are snappy little numbers in black with stripe down the leg or the shirt. Shows you mean business. I suppose it is possible I might return to class. . . which is why I'll reserve judgement.

I must have thought that clothes make the exerciser.

949 On being silent

Florida Cracker has noted the famous poem “The Hangman” at her site, which was used as the text in a 1963, 12 minute film about the Holocaust. It appears in many Social Studies curricula for school children, to point out the dangers of cooperating with evil, because when the Hangman comes for you, all your friends and neighbors who could have saved you are gone. As a blogger for Terri, she is pointing out that this issue is bigger than one handicapped woman.

At another site, a lay pastor has used "The Hangman” as the form for his poem “The Deceiver.” In this poem, Satan dressed up in the name of Jesus visits a small gospel, Bible-centered church where even the little ones know right from wrong. One by one the Deceiver takes out the believers.

He takes out a deacon by blessing him the "gift" of laughter and barking; he pulls the “Purpose” sign out of the yard; reads to the congregation from a paraphrased Bible; brings in a rock band to replace the hymns and so forth. Finally, when there is only one man left to finally speak up and protest, the Deceiver says:

Then a twinkle grew in the eye of lead.
"Lied to you? Tricked you? Of course I did.
But I answered once and I told you true,
My best disciple is none but you.

"For who has served me more faithfully
Than you with your silence?" gloated he,
"And where are the doctrines that once stood
To help you to know and choose the good?"

"Changed," I whispered, and hatefully,
"Corrupted," Deceiver corrected me:
"Bible, salvation, Spirit too...
I did no more than you let me do."

In the silence, Deceiver said with a yawn,
"My work is done here. I'll move on."
And he left me scornfully in the lurch,
And no prayers rose from the empty church.
By Mike Fischer

And so, many churches who could have spoken out, have kept silent. They are empty of believers.

948 Another woman officer down

In Toledo, a pregnant petite prisoner overpowered her female officer escort on a visit to the obstetric office, according to the Columbus Dispatch. Aurelia Dyer, the prisoner, punched Lisa Osbourne in the nose and choked her unconscious with the belly chain. Then she got out of her handcuffs and leg irons and fled. She was only doing 90 days on forgery. That’s one tough Mama!

Update: The Toledo Blade reports her “capture” and shows a photo of the belly chain (loop is large enough to get over someone’s head.) Like the Atlanta case, she was talked into surrendering, although no book was used. This time a family friend who was on parole was the good Samaritan. He called the police when he realized she had escaped. He had given her clothes and fed her breakfast when she came back a second time.

947 Tax Time

Upon reviewing our tax forms yesterday before returning them to our accountant, I found a $1400 error. It wasn't hers--my husband thought he'd turned it in, but it was medical insurance drawn directly from our checking account and he'd forgotten to write it down with the figures he turned in. (Forgetting to include automatic withdrawals is a common error, according to our accountant.) Be that as it may, the mess our government has made of our tax code is absolutely incomprehensible. (I'm trying to be more careful about always overusing adverbs, but I truly need adverbs for this post.) ;-) If line 2H on p.1 is 20% higher than the total you can't find on p.5 line 17-Q, then go to line 9-b on p. 2 and multiply the difference by the size of your thigh after subtracting your shoe size. I mean, who in the world thinks these things up? Is there a special school to teach legislative staff to design tax code this way?

948 Creepy database search

The TV is reporting another child abduction by a possible sex offender, this time in Iowa. So just out of curiosity I went into our county's sex offender database, which can be searched by zip code. It supplies the photo, current address, and crime details, including the sex of the victim. In my ZIP there were 4; in my son's about 12; and in my daughter's 57! I called her right away--thought she should know.