Thrilling it to Snail Mail

Kirk Douglas passed away this week. Of all the stories and articles about him, one in particular struck a nerve.

Douglas wrote a piece about the joy of corresponding the old fashioned way.

Of course, his correspondents were more notable than my own, but I had to agree with him that the written word is a powerful, enduring thing.

In our paperless society, we've grown accustomed to communicating electronically. (And yes, I understand the irony, given that I've kept this blog going for over seven years.) There are certainly advantages to texting and emailing, and they do have their place.

But so too, I believe, do written letters.

Being the sentimental beast I am, I keep lots of old cards and letters from friends and family. I know I should go through them, and one day soon, I will. Maybe. Probably.

The other day, I came across some letters my brother, Paul, wrote me when I was living in Virginia. Maybe I saved them to use as blackmail. In any event, I'm glad I did, because they are a hoot and a half. The envelopes were addressed to me and tagged, variously, "Woman of La Mancha," "Pineapple Queen," "The Brains Behind Spam," and "The Crusher," to give a few examples. I look forward to reading through them again. Hopefully, they will still make sense, given that a lot of them allude to references I made in my letters to him. (Mysteriously, there's also a check for $5.00 that I never cashed. Do you suppose it's still good?)

They say the younger generation is abandoning letter writing. That may be so. But in the past two weeks, I've received thank you notes from two of my nieces, Claire and Rose, and I was touched by both. When you take the time to send a note to someone, you may not realize how much it means to them.

What I wanted to do was send a "thank you" to them for their thank you. But that's just silly, I know.

Still, I want them to know I appreciate their taking the time to write. And put a stamp on the envelope. And put it in the mail.

Such a little thing. And such a big thing, too.

Oh My My

I'm not sure I would have put money on the bet that albums would make a comeback.

There are maybe four dozen or so that have been gathering dust in my record cabinet. (Yes, I have a record cabinet.)

©1973 Apple Records

It's easy to forget what a prize these vinyl beauties are. The work that went into designing the covers, many of which are legendary unto themselves. And the inclusion of the lyrics, especially helpful when there's an artist who's difficult to understand.

I remember sitting in my bedroom as a teen, headphones on, poring over the album cover as I listened to a record for the first (or fifteenth) time.

So when Mr. Ginley left Sunday afternoon to spend time with this brothers, I got out an album I hadn't listened to in quite some time.

It was Ringo Starr's third solo album, post-Beatles, released in 1973, entitled Ringo. My brother gave it to me as a gift for my birthday(?) or Christmas(?). The record went Gold in the U.K. and Platinum in the U.S.

As I was washing dishes, I let Ringo take me back, singing along to lyrics I'd not heard in quite awhile.

I'd forgotten all of these things...

• How involved the other three former Beatles were on this record. There were songs written by all the previous mop-tops, with John, Paul and George also performing various singing bits with Ringo.

• About the kazoo on "You're Sixteen"

• That Ringo was only 32 (and all he wanted to do was boogaloo). Wow, at 32 the guy had been drumming for this legendary rock band and was now making a solo go of it (with a little help from his friends).

• Step Lightly, a lilting tune that included a little tap dancing.

• The album-sized booklet that was enclosed with the record featuring Klaus Voorman's illustrations for each song, along with the lyrics. (Tim Bruckner did the painting featured on the album cover.)

Isn't it grand when you rediscover something you've had all along? It was a good day, indeed.

Crew-sing

The voiceover features a young hipster woman, full contralto. (I'm sure the talent agents have assigned her voice to a "type.") The ad is for the Cadillac XT6, an SUV that seats six, costs over $52K and gets 25 highway miles to the gallon (18 city).

"Everyone has a crew," she croons. "A stone-cold, never-blink, walk-in-slow-motion crew. Three rows built for everyone. Leave no one behind."

Some kind of rap music is playing in the background, while "crews" of modern hipsters, dressed to the nines and decked out in lots of bling, settle themselves in and toodle around the city on their glamorous excursions to places I will never be.

Well, okay, I just got left behind.

Ya, I get it, I'm not their audience. But I get a little torked when ads say "everyone." Because clearly their "everyone" is the top 10% of the population. The young folks I know are paying off student loans and getting by. The people closer to my age group are wondering if they will ever be able to retire comfortably.

As to having a crew, no.

Although, come to think of it, I do have five siblings. So I suppose you could say we make up a "crew." "Stone cold"? Well, it is winter in this neck of the woods. "Never blink" might be tricky. But the "walk-in-slow-motion" thing? Sure, we can do that, easy-peasy.

Wait, let me set my mind picture here. If I replace "Big Blue," our 1966 Chevy Impala station wagon, with a Cadillac SUV, I can envision the six of us cruising along. Paul and I will whine because, as usual, we will not get window seats. One of us will get queasy, then the person in the passenger seat will hand that person a small garbage bag and tell the rest of us to open the windows and not think about it, which won't work, and soon we'll all be queasy.

No need to leave anyone behind!

Finding Keepers

As is his wont, Mr. Ginley picked up a book at random at the library last week. He mentioned that I might like to read it.

I did and was taken with both the stories in it and the theme.

Entitled, What We Keep, the book was penned by Naomi Wax and Bill Shapiro (no relation to Harry, as far as I know).

The idea was to collect 150 stories from random people, famous and not, of an object that is special to them, and why.

This got me thinking about all of the stuff I've accumulated over the years, and  what, among the flotsam and jetsam, has special meaning to me.

There are things that belonged to my parents, the letters my mom sent me when I lived in Virginia and hand-made cards from Mr. Ginley and Joe.

But I wanted to dig a little deeper and a little farther back. And that's when I landed on the toys of my early childhood.

The magnetic board with the alphabet letters. My dolls and stuffed animals. The child-sized wooden rocking chair. The toy piano with the one key that stuck and the Casper the Friendly Ghost plastic guitar -- alas, my only forays into music (and both of which are long gone, so unable to participate in this exercise).

I landed on two objects that held a special place in my heart.

First, the hobby horse that I rode and rode and rode, as far as my imagination would take me. It doesn't look like much now, but boy howdy, I thought it was something back in the day. Now the reins are frayed and the horse's head wobbles atop the stick. But it still makes me smile.

As does the Music Box Sweeper. Someone stepped on it (probably me) and dented the top. But I could still help my mom sweep up. It has a "Genuine Swiss Music Box" inside that plays, "This is the way we (fill in the task) so early in the morning."

As I recall, my mom had a hard time getting me to understand it was a toy and that she still had to sweep the floor for real.

One of the things I find endearing about my sweeper is it depicts both boys and girls doing the various tasks (although, admittedly, there are more girls than boys).

Maybe I'm just weird, but I love hearing stories about the things that people keep.

So if you've got a story, please spill.

Or, at the very least, take a minute or two to think about what you've chosen to hold dear.

Who Needs Pants?

The opening shot was an elderly woman in a knee-length fur coat, sashaying along the streets of New York, her birdlike legs clad only in black tights. A hat crowned her grey hair, a jaunty scarf tied around her neck. Perched on her face were ginormous eyeglasses.

As she strolled along the sidewalks, adoring fans came up and told her how much they loved her. One man asked for a selfie with her.

So, who was the object of all this attention? Broadway actress Elaine Stritch.

The documentary was entitled Shoot Me, and was filmed in 2013, a year before Stritch passed away.

I love documentaries that explore the lives of people who are not in my stratosphere. And that is certainly the case with Ms. Stritch.

What I discovered about her was that she had a ton of talent and enjoyed a career that spanned 88+ years.

She told a story about dating President Kennedy before he became Commander in Chief. It was a brief period -- only two dates. On the second date, she invited him up for a night cap. His response was something to the effect of, if she was going to play records and serve him eggs and nothing else, he was not interested.

He didn't come up.

Noel Coward, disparaging a play Stritch was in (but recognizing her talent), offered her a part in his new musical, Sail Away. Stritch took on the role of leading lady and was nominated for a Tony for her performance. Her career took off.

Over the course of her lifetime, Stritch eventually won a Tony, along with several Emmy Awards.

She had a love affair with Ben Gazarra. She had a thing for Rock Hudson. And she asserted Kirk Douglas professed his love for her, although she did not return his affections.

In 1973, Stritch married the love of her life, Actor John Bay. The pair enjoyed wedded bliss until Bay's tragic death from brain cancer in 1982. She never married again.

Stritch was very candid about her alcoholism, which worsened after the death of her husband. She got it under control, but not before it contributed to the onset of diabetes, which plagued her for the rest of her life.

She was candid (and that's quite the understatement) about everything. In the documentary, she was coming up on the end of her life, and she vacillated between being at peace with the inevitable and being terrified.

Her residence in New York was the Carlyle Hotel. She also lived for a time at the Savoy in London.

Stritch played Alec Baldwin's mother in 30 Rock. She was buds with James Gandolfini. And she did a one-woman show called Elaine Stritch at Liberty.

The documentary was fascinating. Now I'm ready to read the book.

Let's hear it for the ladies who lunch...everybody rise...

Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot?

I've never been one for New Year's resolutions. To me, January 1st is just another day.*

Although, I must say, I was mighty glad to give 2019 the boot.

It's been challenging to live in the moment and plan for an uncertain future at the same time.

But it has had its rewards.

• I've spent a lot of time with Mr. Ginley. We've walked miles and miles of park trails, discovering new places and revisiting tried-and-true paths.

• Joe and I have continued our weekly breakfasts. I'm so proud of my kid, and he remains one of my favorite people. In August, he'll bring Jill into the fold. I hope she's ready for us!

• The opportunity to regularly meet with my friend, Chris, has been a godsend. I realize just how much I've missed seeing her every day.

• I took Excel classes at the library. And some (free) online courses to beef up my skills.

• A big blessing came in the form of a freelance copywriting job. So far, I've created 60+ pages of content. From researching and writing, I've honed my skills and learned a ton about my subjects. I really do love to write.

• How do you convert films to DVD? I learned from Axel.

• Who knew designing websites was so easy? I managed to create three of them. Programs like Wix made it a breeze.

• Mr. and I discovered all the things we can live without. We haven't missed the cable much. Our local libraries have plenty of DVDs, and we've watched many classics. (I've even managed to sit through some westerns.) And we've done a lot more reading. As an added benefit, our electric bill has gone down.

• Cooking has become less of chore, especially when I remind myself how much we save by not eating out several times a week.

• Our resident feline has enjoyed having me around. Maggie and Mr. Ginley fight like cats and dads, and I've had to intervene on many occasions. "Put her down, she doesn't like to play 'Tick Tock Kitty Clock.'" Every time I sit down, Maggie plants herself on my lap. Or on my face. (She doesn't quite get the concept of my needing to breathe.)

Hopefully, 2020 will be a more prosperous year for all of us.

Although, until I wrote this, I hadn't realized what an amazing year 2019 had actually been.

*Except for the Rose Bowl. Mr. Ginley and I watched The Game at a local bar and had a nog of ale.

Christmas Letters Revisited

As we were getting ready to label our Christmas cards this year, we stumbled across one of our old Christmas letters.

Those of you familiar with this yearly missive may join me in waxing nostalgic. Or perhaps you will give thanks that we dispensed with this particular tradition. (In which case, you should probably stop reading right here.)

In any case, I thought it might be fun to do a "greatest hits" from the yearly letters, which were written over the course of 21 years, from 1992-2012.

I've included some recurring characters. The scores from the OSU games have been omitted (sorry/not sorry, Mr. Ginley).

So, without further ado...

October 1992
Bill and Barb buy a new house. It has five bedrooms and two bathrooms. A small Korean family moves into the basement.

September 1993
As Barb's due date draws near, Bill begins to shop the local Sears' baby department. He finally locates a baby that looks like a keeper. He is named Joseph Francis and he bears a remarkable resemblance to his dad. Best of all, he is 50% off the ticketed price. (Bill always was a smart shopper.)

December, 1994
The family prepares for the holidays with a visit to Santa Claus. Unfortunately, Jolly 'Ole St. Nick is hitting the eggnog a little too hard. Looks like Mother is getting strippers, Bill will receive tickets to the Children's Farm to see the calves play, Barb can expect scented bass oil and Joe is getting a big purple Barney Fife.

April 1995
After being pushed, pulled and whacked on the head repeatedly by Joe, Marge [the cat] quietly plots her revenge. Bill is able to stop her just before she slips a little vodka in Joe's juice.

June 1996
Barb's sister, Diane, comes to stay while working at a job in Strongsville. Her first night, she locks herself in her room and wails, "They're nuts, God help me, they're nuts!"

March 1997
The Korean family firmly established elsewhere, the Ginleys decide to rent out their basement to Magnus ver Magnusson, formerly the World's Strongest Man, whose presence comes in handy when it's time to clean behind the refrigerator.

October 1998
Joe meets the President of the United States [Bill Clinton]. (For real.) He doesn't realize whom he has shaken hands with -- he only gets excited when Bill tells him he can tell his friends. And no, you rotten cynics, Joe didn't wash his hand afterward!

April 1999
Bill is surprised on his birthday when Meg Ryan stops by to wish him a Happy 40th. Just as she is about to bestow pleasures heretofore unimagined, Barb wakes him up.

April 2000
Forced by powers beyond their control, the Ginleys visit the Bide-a-Wee Cat Shelter, where a saucy feline performs the Vulcan mind meld. They are compelled to take her home and call her "Mabel."

January 2001
Having been informed by his doctor that he must lose weight and exercise, Bill says, "So long, Mr. Goodbar," "Au Revoir, Dr. Pepper" and "Goodbye, Mr. Chips."

April 2002
Joe hits a foul shot from the foul line at the Gund Arena after a Cavaliers game. They offer to sign him up, but Joe's agent holds out for that "sixth year."

May 2003
For our 15th (crystal) anniversary, Barb sells her CD player to buy Bill a watch crystal. Bill sells his watch to surprise Barb with a Crystal Gale CD. O. Henry!

March 2004
Barb finally receives a coveted promotion to Copy Manager. Xerox promptly sends her a complimentary ream of paper.

September 2005
Rather than celebrating his birthday, we instead celebrate the completion of Joe's first rotation of Jupiter around the sun (which happens once every 12 years).

March 2006
Joe, along with his Uncle Michael, visits his Uncle Brian in sunny LA, while Barb and Bill pine away for him in cold, snowy Cleveland. Joe visits the San Diego Zoo, Disneyland, Universal Studios and the Rose Bowl. Barb and Bill visit with Big Boy, Burger King and Colonel Sanders.

March 2007
Barb wins the Achievement of Excellence Award at work, entitling her and Bill to cruise the Caribbean. An unhappy Bill realizes the u-boats that once missed his Dad will now have a shot at him.

October 2008
Mr. Clean dies. In his memory, we decide to throw all of our garbage in the corners and refuse to clean the house. We fly a dirty dish rag at half staff for the entire month. The first man we knew who wore an earring. He will be missed.

October 2009
Looking for something a bit more sophisticated to participate in at school, Joe joins the Billiards Club at St. Ignatius. "Now we got trouble, right here in River City..."

March 2010
Romper, bomper, stomper do. Who'll no longer be watching you? Miss Barbara. That's who. Miss Barbara from Romper Room passes away. At last, finally free to be a "Don't Bee!"

September 2011
Our warranty runs out on the 22nd. I guess we'll just have to keep Joe now. Sears wouldn't even take him in trade on a newer model!

August 2012
Joe starts his college career at John Carroll University. With Joe now in a dorm, we invite Chuck to come back home. Oh Happy Days!