Feline Madness

Now that I've been spending a lot of time at home, I've honed my ability to pick up on my cat's thoughts.

For example, when I feed Maggie first thing in the morning, she acts excited...until I set down her bowl of food. At which point, she squeaks (she doesn't really "meow") and looks back at me. What she is really saying is, "This restaurant sucks. Same f***ing food every day. Morris the cat wouldn't put up with this s**t."

I've set up a mini office in the kitchen. First thing, I am on my laptop, checking my email and such. Up comes Maggie, strolling across the keyboard. "I'm more important than that stupid piece of junk. Pay attention to me, god****it."

Her favorite time to snuggle is when I'm trying to watch the French production of the TV series Maigret. Then she's all up in my grill, rubbing her face against my chin and purring, etc., demanding, "Pet me NOW!" Making it impossible for me to read the subtitles. Admittedly, I do enjoy this -- until she hears a loud noise outside, digs her claws into my chest and leaps across the room.

It turns out Mr. Ginley is also in tune with our furry feline.

When he engages in what he perceives as cat play (but Maggie finds annoying), I will hear the "cat's voice" from the other room, saying things like,""I'm going to kill you with my talons of steel." Or "Get away from me, old man." Or, my favorite, "You're not my real dad."

I find that I'm taking a lot of cat photos. And posting them on Facebook sites that invite you to share pictures of your pet.

Mr. Ginley asked me if I wanted the "Crazy Cat Lady" bumper sticker we saw on a car yesterday. I protested that one kitty does not a crazy cat lady make.

Now I'm beginning to wonder.

Maybe one is all it takes.

Moony Eyed

"How did you celebrate the moon landing 50 years ago?"

The question has been asked a lot lately. Which makes sense, given the upcoming anniversary of Apollo 11, when a trio of astronauts landed on the moon, effectively winning the space race with the Russians. 

USA! USA! USA!

July 20, 1969.

I was 10 years old, and we were at my grandmother's house in Lima, Ohio. Dad was trying to explain how historic the event was. 

"Look up at the sky, you see the moon? There are guys walking around up there."

I couldn't see anything. Clearly, my dumbass 10-year-old self was not as impressed as I should have been. Disgusted, Dad gave up.

I can't speak for my elder siblings, who were clearly old enough to grasp the full significance. It's not something we've talked about, although now that I'm thinking about it, maybe they will weigh in with their perspectives. As for my younger brother, Paul, who was only five at the time, I wonder if he remembers. He's free to chime in here, too.

In any event, the fact that everybody got so blasé about future trips to the moon so quickly must have been disheartening to the Apollo astronauts. Not to mention the staff at NASA, many of whom lost their jobs in the ensuing years. After the sixth crewed mission in 1972, lunar landings ceased.

I cannot imagine the rush of having been involved in something so monumental, then being cut loose to find another job. Although as it turns out, a lot of them went into the burgeoning electronics industry and started perfecting computers and such. So I guess they did pretty well for themselves.

What most folks didn't foresee was the lasting impact the space race would have on everyday life. So many things were invented during that time: memory foam, freeze dried food, firefighting equipment, and cochlear implants, to name a few. Just to note, Tang, Velcro and Teflon are not on this list, although everybody knows how much the astronauts loved their Tang.

As for the flag that was planted on the moon, it got knocked over by the blast of the engines when the ship took off. Oh well. The best laid plans...

So, how will you celebrate the 50th anniversary?

I think I'll don my memory foam slippers and have me some moon pies.

With a side of Tang.

Be Natural

Once again proving that I never know what will get me cranked up when I pick up a library book, along came  Hollywood Her Story.

I figured I would just flip through this (largely) picture book and it would be a quick read. But right there, at the beginning of motion picture history, I was, like, "Hold the phone there, Andrew, this is amazing."

The book is laid out in a timeline of film history and features the women who had a role in the movie business. Of course, one needs a reference point, so it talks about Edison and his first film in 1895. It lasted 30 seconds and featured a man in the lead role of Mary, Queen of Scots.

It was just one year later when the first woman director appeared on the scene.

Frenchwoman Alice Guy-Blaché began her career as a secretary at a camera manufacturing and film supply company in Paris. Not content with her role as typist-stenographer, she began to familiarize herself with clients, marketing strategies and cameras. She rubbed shoulders with film pioneers like Georges Demeny and the Lumiére brothers.

Alice managed to convince her employer, L. Gaumont et Cie, to let her craft one or two short plays for the entertainment of her friends.  Pitched this way, she was able to try out her newly formed skills, an amazing feat given her gender and youth  -- she was 23 years old.

And so it was that in 1896, Alice directed The Cabbage Fairy, the first of over 1,000 motion pictures she made over the course of her career.

Alice was a pioneer in filmmaking. She foresaw that the novelty of random images on the screen would wear off, and that telling a story was key. She also experimented with sound and special effects, such as running a film in reverse (or slowed down or accelerated), doing double exposures and creating fade-outs.

In addition to director, Alice held the roles of writer, producer and cinematographer.

In 1907, Alice married Herbert Blaché, who was also employed by Gaumont, and resigned. The company sent Herbert to America to set up a Gaumont Chronophone franchise in Cleveland, Ohio. Alice went with him. After the franchise failed, the couple headed to New York.

In 1910, Alice co-founded Solex Studios, the largest studio in America up to that time. Two years later, a new state-of-the-art facility was built at Fort Lee, New Jersey, then a hot spot for filmmaking.

Alice Guy-Blaché made her last film in 1919. By then, Hollywood was taking over as the reigning film capital. Two years later, her studio went bankrupt, and Alice was forced to auction off the studio and its contents. She left America for France in 1922, returning in 1964 to live out her remaining days with her daughter. Alice passed away four years later at the age of 94.

 As is the case with many early films, of the over 1,000 Alice made, only 150 survive today.

Alice placed a large sign in her studio that read, "Be Natural." Which explains the title of a 2018 documentary, Be Natural: The Untold Story of Alice Guy-Blaché. I just watched the trailer, now I am smitten. I need to watch the whole thing.

The DVD is being released next month. I. can't.wait!

"There is nothing connected with the staging of a motion picture that a woman cannot do as easily as a man, and there is no reason why she cannot completely master every technicality of the art."   -- Alice Guy-Blaché

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