Here's to the Women Who Sew

"What on earth were you wearing?" inquired Mr. Ginley the other night.

I was going through old photos looking for one of my mom, whose birthday was last week. In the flotsam and jetsam of photos that cover much of my life was a black and white picture of me in a poncho.

Vivid is the memory of that summer day when I modeled the poncho, hat and matching drawstring bag my mom had crafted for me.

I loved the poncho and the bag, but the hat...well, not so much. She took some rick rack and attached it to the back of the hat. I wasn't sure why it was there, but in my mind, it was a bridge too far. Consequently, I relegated it to the back of the closet.

When my mom asked me why I didn't wear the hat, I shrugged and gave her the classic adolescent, "I dunno." At some point, Denise sat my mom down and explained why I didn't wear certain items. Like the orange and brown floral corduroy pantsuit with matching vest.

Then there was the infamous shirt she sewed for my sister with the words "ship ahoy," all facing the same way -- upside down. (Although Denise, to her credit, still wore it).

But for sure, there were a lot more hits than misses, especially when she let us choose the fabrics and patterns. For instance, I had several pairs of hip-hugger pants (the kind with the huge bellbottoms) that I wore until they were ragged. Easter dresses, which were also worn in school photos, were a definite hit.

And when I was little, she made clothes for my baby dolls. Alas, these are the only things I have left from what my mom sewed for me.

As for moi, I'm a sloppy seamstress who mostly sews non-clothing items. I'd never have the cajones to stitch things for my child that he'd wear in public. (Although, apparently, there were witnesses when he was in college to the uber baggy pajama pants I made him.)

So here's to the moms who sewed. It took time and love and patience.

And a healthy helping of rick rack.

Time Out for Trivia

"I didn't grow up in West Park. I won't know anything," I pointed out to Mr. Ginley.

Trivia Champ and My Hero

"Oh, come in, it will be fun. We'll walk up, and I'll buy you a nog of ale afterward," he replied.

And so it was that last Wednesday night we attended the first-ever West Park Historical Society Trivia Night.

Fortunately, it was a rare non-rainy evening, perfect for a stroll to the Society's headquarters. We signed in, I paid my annual dues and we chose a couple of seats in the back of the room. The walls were peppered with photographs depicting our community's history. Bridges, buildings and people, most long-gone but not forgotten, thanks to the painstaking efforts of the people in that room.

There were about 50 folks in attendance that night, most of them our age or older. It was a BYOB event, so we brought our own water.

The president was our host, and he declared early and often that the answers given were the ones that had been derived to the best of their ability, and were final.

Fortunately, all of the questions were multiple choice, so we could guess when we didn't know.

The first section covered the earliest part of our history, and the questions were worth 2 points. We figured this would be the easier of the two. Out of a possible 40 points, we got 18.

Not a great start.

"I grew up in Parma," was my refrain.

We took a break, so anyone who had to visit the loo could do so, and Mr. and I took a walk around and got a look-see at the aforementioned photos.

Then, back to the action!

In the second round, something odd happened. Mr. Ginley was on fire. Even when he didn't know something, he was spot on with this guesses. Before we knew what had hit us, we found ourselves tied for first place! Our entries were reviewed by the judges, and apparently, we aced the bonus question because Team Ginley won!

We were allowed to choose our prize -- a gift certificate to one of our favorite locals, Gene's Place -- the one with photos of movie stars and other celebrities on the walls, and a piano player on Friday nights.

But wait, there's more....we also got a door prize -- a gift certificate for Kamms Corners Ice Cream Company.

And, true to Mr. Ginley's word, we stopped and got a beer to fortify us for our journey home.

Sometimes, when life is too big to handle, you just have to take small bites.

And savor every moment.

Algorithm & Blues

Searching for a job ain't what it used to be.

Today, one creates a pdf of one's resume and posts it to a few hundred hiring websites which are the cyberspace equivalent of black holes. Some employers will send you a courtesy e-mail to thank you for your submission. A few will advise you that you are not qualified, so keep looking elsewhere. (And have a nice day.)

Of course, in this day and age, one must use job search websites in order to find employment. This requires unique skill and imagination, because one must try to suss out what algorithms these websites use to serve up the best match for your perfect job.

What I discovered fairly early on is that I needed to use several different keywords in my search. "Marketing Manager" is the most helpful. "Copy Manager" does bring back copywriter positions, but it's also served up jobs in the copy centers of various office supply stores.

For some reason, one of the recruiting sites has pulled the word "accounting" out of my resume (I started out in accounting), so all I get from them are jobs that call for a proficiency with numbers. Sure, I can still use a 10-key calculator with the best of them -- but does anyone use a 10-key calculator anymore?

One offer came a little closer -- it was a short-term position writing copy for product descriptions. Which is right up my alley. Except it was for plumbing supplies. I did entertain the possibility as a short-term fix, and certainly, once I was up to speed, I'm sure I could do the work. But it didn't seem fair to the potential employer to ask them to take on someone with that big a learning curve, especially for such a small amount of time. I know from toilets and faucets, but when it comes to all the widgets and gadgets that are behind the scenes, not so much.

Then there are those positions which have been offered up that are totally out of left field.

My favorite? Quality Assurance Specialist (Nuclear) for the Department of Defense. What I find particularly amusing is that it keeps being served up. Well, okay, maybe it's because I've clicked on it a few times, just to show my husband, or to try and figure out what the connection could possibly be. (I'm still stumped.) Now I'm getting other job notices from the Department of Defense. Admittedly, I think I'd enjoy the Editor position in Alexandria, Virginia, but the commute would be killer.

In the meantime, I'm keeping busy, signing up for classes at the library for programs like Excel and coding. And I'm helping a friend create a website, which is pretty clutch (as my kid would say).

Thanks to all of you who've stayed in touch, even though I don't see you every day anymore. I treasure your friendship and your help on this up-and-down journey of mine.

Please keep the good thoughts coming!

P.S. A special shout-out to Jeff, who let me know he still has the jar of colored buttons on his desk that I gave him one birthday. (He was always changing the color of the "shop now" buttons on our emails.)

Lyrical Lehrer

"It must be public television's pledge week," Mr. Ginley opined. "There's something on that I want to see."

So it was that we settled in to watch Tom Lehrer: Live in Copenhagen, filmed in 1967.

(And yes, it was pledge week.)

At a time when rock 'n roll ruled the music scene, Tom Lehrer came out of left field with songs that were playful and witty and biting. He took on social and political topics such as nuclear war, the Vatican and pornography. Who would think of rhyming "quibbled" and "ribald"? Why, Tom Lehrer, of course!

Oh, and he did a number where he sang all the elements in the periodic table.  Lehrer penned the ditty in 1959 when he was attending Harvard University as a PhD student.

I thought of my friend, Harry, who, although he is Jewish, knows all the words to The Vatican Rag, including:

First you get down on your knees
Fiddle with your rosaries
Bow your head with great respect and
Genuflect, Genuflect, Genuflect!*

Mr. Lehrer's instrument of choice is the piano, which he pounds on competently. Certainly he's no Chopin, but the lyrics are his real genius.

There are a lot of comedians on late night poking fun of current events, but I can't think of any contemporary singers who are skewing the state of the nation. Certainly not with Lehrer's unique blend of wit and intelligence.

When he tired of touring and the music scene, Tom Lehrer became a mathematics professor, a profession he retained until retiring in 2001 from the University of California, Santa Cruz.

"I didn't know he was still alive," I said to Mr. Ginley, as the hosts of the pledge drive spoke about Lehrer in the present tense. A quick search of the Google sussed out that he is, in fact, still among us, at the ripe old age of 91.

While he hasn't published any tunes in the last several decades, the silver-tongued Tom Lehrer can be found in profusion on You Tube.

I invite you to partake. It's quite a feast, indeed.


*Copyright 1965 by Tom Lehrer

Women of the Resistance

My parents lived through the Great Depression and World War II.

My mother told us how her parents didn't eat until their children had had their fill. And if there wasn't any food left on the table, they went hungry. Which prompted my oldest uncle to make sure his siblings took modest portions so his parents could eat. It wasn't until years later that my mom understood what he was doing.

Right after high school, my dad was drafted and sent overseas to fight in Africa and Italy. While he didn't see a lot of action, he never knew when he would be called upon to fight. He was not sad when they dropped the bombs on Japan, because he surely would have been called into that conflict.

As for me, I had to endure measured meal portions during my childhood, hand-me-downs and taking a bus or hoofing it to attend school. And, while my life so far has had its ups and downs, it's been pretty unremarkable by comparison.

Maybe that's why my imagination was captured by two women who have just had books published about them.

Both had roles as spies in the French Resistance.

The first was Virginia Hall, a well-to-do American, who was the most highly decorated female of World War II. She was a master of disguises and identities, changing her code name repeatedly. She eluded capture by the Nazis, once by crossing the Pyrenees in winter -- with a wooden leg she called "Cuthbert." When the war was over, she went back to America and worked for the CIA. I listened to the author, Sonia Purnell, speak about her book, A Woman of No Importance. Now I'm looking forward to reading it.

The second story is about Marie-Madeleine Fourcade, who is featured in the book Madame Fourcade's Secret War by Lynne Olson. She was a Frenchwoman who headed the Alliance Network during World War II. She once escaped the Germans by removing all her clothes and squeezing between the bars of her jail cell. Her code name was "hedgehog," not because the animal is stinkin' cute (well, it is), but because hedgehogs have the ability to roll themselves into a ball of spikes that precludes attack by larger animals. She, too, was a master of disguises. Madame Fourcade survived the war.

I won't talk about the fact that it sucks these two women, and many, many others, haven't been given serious props all these years for putting their lives in danger and for their contributions to the Allied war effort. No, I'm not going to do that.

The hell I'm not.

Anyhow...I've got my summer reading lined up. In between beach reads, I'll be learning more about these two amazing women and their critical roles in the French resistance, when freedom from fascism was at stake.

And hope that we never have to fight a war like that again.