Time Warp

Why is it that at this stage of my life, I still don't feel like the adult my mom was?

Clearly, I've adulted successfully. I've partnered with Mr. Ginley in raising our son, held down several jobs to put food on the table and done my share of household tasks.

Still, there's a part of me that feels I'll never be as much of an adult as my mother. 

Mary Schrimpf ruled the roost. Much like Japanese culture, the myth was that my father was in charge but in reality, my mom held the important cards. She managed the household, paid the bills and meted out discipline. Dad went to the office, earned a paycheck, laid down the law and yelled a bunch. Still, it was Mom who could make your insides crumble when she looked you in the eye and told you she was ashamed of you for something you'd done.

In my weird little mind, I started to wonder how differently Mom would have handled things if she'd raised a family in the now times. Would she have stopped at four children, which was the original plan? Would she have worked outside the home? 

And, more importantly, would she have had a Facebook page?

This thought intrigued me (it's been a slow week), and I thought it might be fun to imagine some of the Facebook posts my mother might have written if there's been FB back in the day. I decided to put myself in her shoes for one year. I picked 1964.

January

The kids always hate New Years Day because they have to take down all the decorations, clean up the pine needles from the Christmas tree and scrape the fake snow off the windows. But it seems only fair, since I'm the one who does all the decorating. 

February

We had to watch The Ed Sullivan Show because Gary and John were all excited about some new British band that was on. They're causing a lot of hoo-ha, I guess. I liked some of their music, but their father hated it. I told him I'm sure they're just a fad and will be gone before you know it.

March

I need to make sure the kids have their Easter outfits and that the girls all have hats to wear. They can't attend mass without something on their heads. They're always embarrassed they forget to wear a hat and I make them put a tissue on their head with a bobby pin. (Not a good look for Easter.)

April 

Think I'll make cube steak for dinner tonight. I know it's not everyone's favorite, but the meat tenderizer really makes it almost edible.

 

May

Just brought home our new little boy. We named him Paul. Barbie isn't taking it well at all. She ran to the car, saw and me and said, "You look different." I'm sure she'll warm up to her little brother in time.

June

I'm going up into the attic today to get the summer clothes out of mothballs. The kids will have to try things on to see what fits. 

July

I have to bake a cake for Barbie's birthday. She's getting her first Barbie Doll this year, she's going to be so happy.

August

Next weekend we'll be heading to Lima to visit my folks and Tony's mom. Need to make sure everything gets packed and the kids are up and ready to go at 6:00. 

September

Labor Day means the kids will be going back to school tomorrow. Barbie starts at St. Columbkille. I hope she gets a nice teacher for first grade.

October

Time to pull out the costumes for Halloween. Those plastic masks are so scratchy. I think Denise and Barbie are the only ones going out this year. Maybe Diane will hand out the candy.

November

Thanksgiving is this week. I need to make out my shopping list for Kroger's. Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, green beans, cranberries, rolls. Busy day for Mom!

December

I love Christmas. Can't wait to decorate cookies. It's messy, but the kids have a lot of fun.

Wherever you are Mom, know that I love you and miss you.

And in the end, I decided my baby brother was pretty okay.

Peevish Trafficking

One of the things I love about my job is that I can work from  home. 

photo attribution below

This means that I no longer burst into tears when the Shell bill arrives every month. 

It also means my tolerance for driving has been depleted significantly.

I was pondering this the other day as I waited for a traffic light to change, an activity which is among my pet peeves. Sitting there, I began to wonder when it all started and why we don't have universal traffic signals.

Climb into the Wayback Machine with me.

The first traffic light showed up in London in 1868, directing horse-drawn vehicles across Westminster Bridge. It was a semaphore-style traffic signal, powered by gaslight. Alas, the device was short-lived, blowing up in 1869 and injuring the police officer who was operating it.

In the early part of the 20th Century, Americans picked up the "stop" and "go" semaphore-style signals, using kerosene lamps to illuminate the signs at night. At this point, however, the signal still had to be manually operated. 

Lester Wire, a Utah policeman, invented the first electric traffic light in 1912. The signal was installed at East 105th Street in Euclid. 

The traffic light's design continued to evolve by baby steps. Bells were added to caution drivers that the light was changing. But it wasn't until 1923 when Garret Morgan, a Black inventor with an elementary school education, received a patent for the three-position traffic signal. (I encourage you to read more about Garret Morgan, he had a truly amazing life. He also invented a smoke hood, credited with being the precursor to the gas masks used in World War I – in 1916, he used his invention to save workers trapped in a water intake tunnel located under Lake Erie.)  

But I digress, as is my way.

My point is, Mr. Morgan invented the modern traffic light 100 years ago, but it still operates differently everywhere you go – even from one side of the town to the other.

Let's say you pull up to a red light in the left turn lane. Will you:

• Get a green arrow?
• Have to wait for the next cycle because you pulled up too late to activate the turn arrow?
• Get the arrow before or after oncoming traffic?
• Not get a left arrow at all because the traffic light is an asshat, meaning you have to pull into the intersection and hope oncoming traffic stops when the light turns red so you can turn left without getting t-boned.

While I'm venting my spleen, I'd like to add that untimed lights are a huge nuisance. If you're driving along a major road, the lights should be timed so you can maintain a steady speed and make them all – or stop just once or twice, not at every other one. 

One more request, please? Can all the walk/don't walk pedestrian signals operate in the same fashion? The countdown kind that get to zero when the light changes are the best, because when you see them, you can gauge whether to brake or goose the gas to get through before the traffic light changes.

Well, another First World problem rant has been laid to rest. 

I'm sure you're all as glad as I am to have that over with!

Photo attribution: Atlantic Training  CC BY-SA 3.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0>, via Wikimedia Commons

More Fun With Languages

Looking back on my childhood, I feel a little cheated. 

Compared to many of the ethnic families in our neighborhood, ours was decidedly of the Wonder Bread variety. Not Italian, not rye, not challah, not even whole grain. That white bread that you could press into communion wafers between your thumb and forefinger.  

My friend and neighbor, Linda, was Polish, and used the word "dupa" a lot. So much cooler than the word "bottom" we used at home. We weren't even aloud to say "shut up" because Mom thought it sounded mean. In our house we "peed" or "grunted" (which I never heard anyone else use in reference to defecating). Swearing was not permitted, although my dad was known to mutter expletives under his breath during particularly onerous home repairs. But never was the "f" word spoken. I saw it spray painted on a school bus one day, and when I asked my mother what it meant, she turned purple and said it was a bad word that I should NEVER. EVER. SAY. 

There was no secret language in our house, just the usual, "you dumbbell" or "dummy" or "stupid." If we lobbed anything stronger than that, we'd be reprimanded and reminded that so-and-so was our brother/sister, and it wasn't nice, yadda yadda.

I sometimes wonder if that was one of the things that attracted me to my first husband. His grandparents were from Czechoslovakia, and they would often speak in their native tongue to his parents when they didn't want the kids to eavesdrop. (My ex freaked them out one time when, after a particularly heated discussion, he said "what" in Slovak.) They had holiday traditions and were close knit, and I enjoyed the ritual of Sunday family dinner. Although, admittedly, the Christmas tradition of eating a wafer with garlic and honey on it "for health" was not one of my favorites.

You may be wondering what brought all this on. It was an article Mr. Ginley shared with me. It was written several years ago by Phyllis Rose for the American Scholar titled My Mother's Yiddish. In it Ms. Rose talks about all the cool Yiddish words her mother used growing up. As a total word nerd, this shiksa loved the bejesus out of this article. It's chock full of rich mouthfuls of pure gold. Some of the words I recognized from working with my boss, Mr. Shapiro (Sir). There were my favorites like ferkakte, schvitz and mensch – although I didn't see alter cocker (aka "old fart"). Many others were new to me. It reminded me again of how cool languages are and how expressive they can be. 

The melting pot of languages was something I was able to enjoy more fully when I worked in the Washington, DC area. I had a coworker, Frank, who was from Venezuela, Nora who lived in China, Sigrid, who hailed from Germany and Moshe who came over from Israel. Alas, my current coworker speaks only Cat, a language which remains somewhat elusive to me. 

Mr. Ginley, on the other hand, is trying to learn a few words of Irish, a difficult language to master. Optimistically, he's attempted to teach them to me. But about the only one I've managed to remember is sláinte (cheers). 

Beyond that, I'm ferblondjet (lost).

And no, I don't think it's a coincidence that the word "blond" is in the middle of that word.

Still Needing, Still Feeding

Yes, he's getting older, losing his hair. But it's not many years from now – it was yesterday.

Which, coincidentally, is another Beatles tune. But I digress.

As many of you know (and if you don't, keep it to yourself, please), the Beatles released a song called When I'm 64. Paul McCartney wrote the song in 1966 for his father, who turned 64 that year. Which means that Paul penned the tune when he was 24. Holy moley!

Anyhow, now that Mr. has reached this auspicious age, I decided it might be a good time to do an assessment of where he is at 64. Here we go...

√ Getting older (and creakier).

√ Losing hair – in spite of reports to the contrary, I'm not to blame.

√ Assuming chocolate counts as a Valentine

√ Birthday greetings, bottle of Maalox may be more like it.

√ Even if he were out that late, he has a key. 

√ Still need, still feed (3x a day).

√ I'm getting older, too, but he'll always be just that much older than me.

√ I said the word(s) "I do" almost 35 years ago, and he's still here.

√ He's always "handy." Enough said about that.

X I don't knit, and no one would want that sweater from me if I did.

√ Sunday mornings I go for a ride. To have breakfast with Joe. Does that count?

X I have an aversion to yard work.

√ I could, and often do, ask for more.

X Not unless "a cottage on the Isle of Wight" is code for the Casa de Ginley.

√ We've mastered the "scrimp" part, but the save – not so much. 

X Not rushing the kids – or expecting them to name their offspring Vera, Chuck and Dave.

X No need for a postcard or phone call. He's in the next room. All. the. time.

√ His forevermore, etc.

Well, that's a wrap. Next stop, 65 – Medicare and free beverages at Taco Bell.

P.S. For anyone who needs a refresher on the original lyrics, you'll find them here. 

Fools Rush In

"There's a spider crawling up your shirt."

"Auuuugh!!!"

"April Fools!"

Ha ha ha.

I've never been particularly fond of April Fools' Day. Some folks really get into it, but to me, it's just another form of schadenfreude – defined in the dictionary as getting your rocks off at someone else's expense. (I may have paraphrased.)

I just don't care for pranks like spraying glitter across someone's desktop. Putting salt in their coffee instead of sugar (which should be a punishable offense, in my book). Or covering the toilet seat with plastic wrap. In other words, acts that would just be mean any other day besides April 1st.

I guess I don't have a problem with the pranks that are obviously fake. BK's left-handed Whopper. The BBC's story about harvesting spaghetti in a Swiss village. A Swedish television station's assertion that you could change your TV's black and white reception into color simply by placing a nylon stocking over the screen.

And there have been some clever efforts that were so cheeky, one can't help but laugh. For example, it was pretty amusing that the Texas House of Representatives was hornswoggled. Two reps who wanted to prove no one reads anymore (this was in 1971, mind you) introduced a bill honoring serial killer Albert DeSalvo ("the Boston Strangler") for his "noted activities and unconventional techniques involving population control and applied psychology." The bill passed unanimously.

So, rather than celebrate April Fools' Day by tormenting Mr. Ginley or the cat, I decided to troll the Google and see what other pranks had been pulled in years past so I could amuse myself (and you, dear reader) on this (for now) sunny April Fools' morning. Here goes.

The earliest known prank occurred in 1698. The Dawks' News-Letter reported that several people were sent to the Tower of London Ditch (aka "moat") for the washing of the lions. Of course, there were no lions and they weren't getting a bath. But the hilarity that ensued made the prank something of a tradition in the city, and it was repeated on gullible citizens ever after. In the mid 1800s, some prankster even printed up tickets to the annual lion-washing event.

Type geeks like me will love this one. In 1977, The Guardian, a British Rag (those Brits do love their April Fools), produced a 7-page report about "San Serriffe." It was reputed to be a small republic in the Indian Ocean comprised of islands that were shaped like semi-colons. It mentioned collective bargaining agreements led by the President's second cousin, Antonio "Che" Pica. The island was described as having two main islands, Upper Caisse (whose capital was Bodoni) and Lower Caisse, home of the kwote, the national bird. (If you're interested, you can read the whole story here.)  

In 1997, 46 comic strip artists got together and decided to create each others' strips for the day. It was dubbed the Great Comic Strip Switcheroonie. Garfield stole Dagwood's sandwich, Nancy appeared as Darth Vader in Fox Trot and For Better or For Worse got the cartoon balloons from Mother Goose & Grimm. There have been other times when characters strayed from one comic strip to another, but this was the largest scale effort. 

Well, I guess I've spent enough time on all this nonsense. Mr. Ginley just walked in and said, "Tell them you're the luckiest woman in the universe and you're lucky to have me."

April Fools!