Pioneer's Passing

Last year marked the passing of yet another woman who took a hammer to the glass ceiling and smashed it to smithereens.  

(public domain image)

Laurel Cutler died at age 94 last November. She managed to thrive during the male-driven Mad Men era of the 1960s. Her list of accomplishments is remarkable, but her journey to the top is more interesting than her résumé. 

Cutler's father was a lawyer. Her brother followed in his footsteps, but Laurel was discouraged from doing so. She was told to marry a lawyer instead (which, by the way, she eventually did–and out-earned him.)

While she did give up on the legal profession, Cutler didn't acquiesce to the role of a housewife. She earned her degree at Wellesley College with a major in philosophy and took on the role of cub reporter for The Washington Post. After unsuccessfully trying her hand as a novelist, she turned to writing advertising copy for J. Walter Thompson.

And that's when her career took off. 

Over the ensuing years, Cutler worked her way up the corporate ladder at several prominent New York advertising agencies, picking up impressive awards along the way. In 1985, the Advertising Federation of America christened Cutler "Woman of the Year. "Ten years later, she was "Man of the Year," the first woman to be awarded this title.

Laurel Cutler was a futurist, a role she likened to a fortune teller. So much of advertising has been (and still is) data-driven. While Cutler would use this data, her real talent came from her ability to see emerging trends and predict how they would play out. She and her staff looked for evidence of changes in art and sciences, retailing, fashion, technology and demographics. The patterns they observed became the basis for her predictions. She quipped that "there is no data on the future." 

She was so good at it that in 1988, Lee Iacocca, then-head of Chrysler, appointed her its first vice president of consumer affairs, a position she held in addition to her senior management role at the ad agency FCB/Leber Katz Partners.

While her laundry list of accolades is impressive, I was more taken by the anecdotes I found that illustrated her personality. Here are a few: 

A tire manufacturer did a study that showed women were responsible for most automobile and tire purchases. Their solution was to create a pink tire. Cutler, appalled, told the clueless executives that women wanted a safe and reliable vehicle, not one with tires tricked out in nail polish colors. 

Cutler convinced Campbell's executives to change the name of their spaghetti sauce to "Prego" after flipping through an English-Italian dictionary. "Prego" is Italian for "please" and "you're welcome." But it wasn't just the name change that made Prego a success story. Cutler's agency branded the sauce to compete successfully with Ragu and gain a major share of the market.

And on a personal note...

Ms. Cutler's brother, Lloyd, became a high-powered lawyer in Washington, DC. Laurel attended a reception there, where she met Katharine Graham, then-publisher of The Washington Post. She was introduced as "Lloyd's sister." At which point the chairman of Young & Rubicam, Edward N. Ney, pre-empted the introduction by telling Ms. Graham, "In our world, he's Laurel's brother."

If you're interested in learning more, check out the 1987 Inc. magazine interview with Laurel Cutler. it's good stuff.

Remote Possibilities

There are few good things that have come out of this whole COVID debacle. One (and perhaps the only one) is the opportunity to work remotely.

Feline Coworker

I've been very fortunate with my job because I have a choice of whether to go to the office or work from home. In the beginning, I worked mostly from the office. My boss was there, and when I had questions, it was easier to turn around and ask him than to set up a video chat.

Over the ensuing months, I started working from home one day a week, then two. But when the whole COVID thing blew up over the holidays, I decided working from home was the best option for now.

So, what about going forward? Once the current surge has passed, will I go back to working at the office full-time or part-time or not at all?

I decided it would be smart to come up with a list of pros and cons for working remotely to help me decide what I will eventually do. So, here we go. 

Work Wardrobe
Pro: Put on a pair of sweats and a hoodie, and I can tick the "what to wear today" box. I can don the same clothes multiple times, thus saving on laundering costs.

Con:  I can't tell if I'm putting on weight. There's a niggling fear in the back of my mind that when I do put on big-girl pants, they're going to be mighty snug.

Personal Hygiene

Pro: I needn't be so concerned with routine showering. No makeup is required. And if my hair is a mess, so what?

Con: Not caring how one looks seems like a slippery slope. Will I find myself at the grocery store one day in pajamas, reeking a little and looking like I've been sleeping in my car?

Travel To & From the Office

Pro: I've been pleased to see my gas costs tank. (Pun intended.) When the weather sucks, it's nice not to have to scrape the ice off the car and creep and beep along slick roads. And I've put the time savings to good use – I can watch a full hour of Adam-12 repeats with Mr. Ginley.

Con: When you drive to and from work, there's a nice separation between the two...a chance to unwind, look at the sky and relax. It's also an opportunity to listen to music and sing out of tune at the top of one's lungs, something that may not be encouraged at one's home.

Food & Snacks

Pro: No need to pack a lunch, everything I need is right at home. 

Con: At the office, my food intake is limited to what I bring and what snacks may be available. Being at home enables me to snack at will. "I'll just have a few crackers with peanut butter while I'm pondering this article." Or "A nice cup of hot chocolate will spur my creative juices." (I will NOT get on the scale, I will NOT get on the scale.)

Feline Coworker

Pro: It's nice to have Maggie Lou snuggled up next to me in a spot I set up for her. Just reach over every now and then, and she purrs gently and sighs.

Con: Before she settles down for the day, Maggie is prone to biting the corner of my computer and tap dancing across the keyboard. She's also notorious for sticking her butt in my face and upstaging me during virtual meetings.

Socializing

Pro: No worries about contracting COVID from someone at the office.

Con: I miss seeing my coworkers. Sure, the virtual chat is great, and I'm often ROFLing. But I contend there's definitely something missing when you can't interact with others in person. 

Flexibility

Pro: I can run errands and make up the time later in the day. 

Con: It can be difficult to get back in the groove when there's a big break in the middle of the day.

Mr. Ginley

Pro: Mr. Ginley and I spend more time together. 

Con: Mr. Ginley and I spend more time together.

So, what will I do when things settle down? In all likelihood, post-COVID and assuming the weather cooperates, I'll adopt a hybrid approach and head back to the office a couple days a week. For whatever reason, it feels like I'm more productive there and more connected to the company.

Plus, I don't want to become a total slob, physically or socially. 

I just hope I can still fit into my work clothes!

Put Down That Phone

"What are you looking at?" inquired Mr. Ginley for the umpteenth time.

"F" is for...

I was sitting on the couch while some mindless TV commercial was rattling around in the background.

"Checking Facebook," I replied.

"Again? Put the phone down," he ordered.

I shrugged and set it aside. Who knows what crazy cat antic, celebrity blow-up or memory lane stroll I missed by stepping away from my chosen social media site.

He's right, of course. Too much time is wasted. Too much nonsense. Too much of everything, really.

And yet...

In my defense, it was during a commercial for Medicare or ED treatment or the "I've fallen and I can't get up" medical alert device, so I wasn't missing a slice of life or anything. And when I'm working, I don't touch my phone unless someone calls or texts me, which isn't all that often. So I'm really playing catch-up when I sit on the couch and scroll. I don't want to miss any pics of adorable relations (or friends' adorable relations). How would I know what my neighbors were up to? Or my alma mater (although, as Mr. Ginley pointed out, I haven't gone to a single high school reunion). 

Admittedly, I have found myself heading down the rabbit hole at times. I'll just go to check in quickly, and 20 minutes later, I've gotten sucked into a slew of posts about something that I felt compelled to comment on.

We saw a story on the news last night about the ridiculous amount of time kids spend scrolling through crap on their phones. How it's ruining their attention span and affecting schoolwork. How the anonymity is making them meaner toward other kids and contributing to a rise in teen suicides. While I'm certainly not on my phone the 6-9 hours these kids were, I can still see how too much of a good thing can put a dent in one's psyche.

Maybe this is a good opportunity to make a New Years resolution. To limit my time on social media to an hour or so a day. Two half-hour check-ins, one in the morning, the other at night. 

Okay, and maybe another half-hour in the middle of the day. Just in case someone is trying to instant message me.  

I'm not looking at Mr. Ginley, but I can feel him go all smug, just the same.

Bye Betty, Hello 2022

I want to feel bad about Betty White passing. But you have to admit, 99 7/8 is a pretty good run. And she certainly made the most of it.

Television pioneer. Married the man of her dreams. Animal activist. Emmy Award winner. And she kept her wits right up to the end.

Ya, you have to admit, it was a good life. 

Knowing about someone who did so much good stuff here on this wacky planet makes me reflect on my own life. What, exactly, have I done with my decades-long existence?

Like most of you, I've poked along, trying my best. But too many days were spent with my nose to the grindstone, oblivious of everything else. Sure, I do stop from time to time to pet the cat or look at the stars, but is that enough?

Rather than continuing to gaze at my navel and ranting about the state of our country, I'm going to take a moment and reflect on the good stuff of 2021:

1. New daughter-in-law. Joe and Jill tied the knot by a treehouse in the woods. The kids were beautiful, the venue was lovely and we were thrilled to welcome Jill to the fold.
2. New job. After 2+ years of free range work, I joined the OuterBox team. I love writing, and the folks I work with are the best.   
3. Kept the side gig. Thanks to Axel, I continued helping to preserve memories. In spite of the fact that we drive each other nuts at times, I will forever be grateful to this guy, who was there with a lifeboat and a 12-pack of Stella Artois when I needed it most. 
4. Family: Finally got to celebrate Christmas with my siblings. It was a good thing we gathered before the latest outbreak of you-know-what.
5. Friends: I managed to spend face-to-face time with old friends. Hopefully, we'll all get to do more of that in the coming year.
6. Eyes on the prize: My sight was restored, thanks to a second cataract surgery. This is a cautionary tale for anyone who's had the initial surgery and sometime later experiences reduced sight. Don't wait to get it checked out!
7. Taughannock wedding: Megan and Liam celebrated their newly wedded status with a party by Cayuga Lake. It was a gorgeous day with food and frolic. And I got to practice mispronouncing Native American names.
8. Got shot: I got Mr. and I vaccinated as soon as it was possible to do so. As a result, as far as I know, neither of us got COVID last year.
9. Tree removal: Well, partial removal. It turned out the tree was only half dead. The live part was on the other side of the fence, so we had to leave it alone. But at least we don't have to worry about a limb crashing through our roof.
10. 33 years: Mr. Ginley and I marked 33 years of matrimony without killing each other–a truly remarkable milestone.*

*No, Mr. Ginley, these are not in order of importance, so you needn't be concerned that you're "#10." Maybe I saved the best for last.

Oh, and one more thing. I'm very grateful for having the best Facebook friends. 

And I'm not just saying that because you're reading my stuff...

Christmas Musings

It's pretty quiet here at the Casa de Ginley. Mr. is still snuggled safely in his bed. The chili is snuggled safely in the crock pot. The cranberries are gurgling on the stove. And the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the scents of cooking food to create a pleasant aroma.

Christmas 1966

The weather outside is dismal. But at least folks won't have to drive through a raging snowstorm to share the holidays with loved ones. (Assuming COVID hasn't shot down their holiday plans.)

As I enjoy the quiet of this Christmas morning, I look back on other, noisier mornings of years past. In my childhood, my parents piled us kids into the car to attend church at 6 a.m. Wriggling all the way through mass, the specter of gifts under the tree was stronger, alas, than the birth of a child millennia ago. Savior of the world or no, the presents held a more immediate allure that no amount of dirty looks from my parents could assuage. My sadistic parents would make us change out of our "good" clothes, brew themselves a cup of coffee and settle in before the wrapping paper rip-fest began.

Then there were the years with Joe in the house. Waking up early, waiting in anticipation to see how he would like his gifts. I guess it's a good sign that he wasn't greedy, but it was also a little unnerving that our kid would open one gift at a time, examine it and want to go play with it before opening the other packages. Not sure where he got that from.

Flash forward to this quiet morning. I finally put up the tree a couple of nights ago. There are a few things in Mr. Ginley's stocking. I renewed some subscriptions for him and bought myself three Alice Guy Blaché DVDs. And the gifts from the exchange yesterday with Joe and Jill are sitting in their pretty gift bag under the tree.

Today I'll watch a few Christmas movies, imbibe some hot chocolate and take it easy. If I'm lucky, Maggie Cat will sit on my lap. 

I hope all of you enjoy a wonderful, safe, healthy holiday season, however you choose to celebrate. Or not. 

Be it Christmas or Hanukkah (belatedly) or Festivus (for the rest of us).

Perusing Thomas the Tank Engine Storybook

Addictions

I don't know if it's due to genetics, upbringing or past-life experiences, but I don't appear to have any harmful addictive tendencies.

Last one before its demise

It may have something to do with the fact that my body doesn't tolerate mass quantities of alcohol. I've never been tempted to smoke. And I'm leery of taking painkillers. 

On the other hand, put me in front of a plate of Christmas goodies, and watch out. 

I suppose I've always known this about myself, but it became obvious last weekend at my family's holiday gathering.

With Diane driving, I was en route to Denise's home, where the festivities were to take place. I was cloistered in the back seat of her car with the twin tea rings she had baked the night before. I admit to getting high on the aroma of yeast and sugar. It was all I could do not to rip off the plastic covering and stick my face in it. Still, I prevailed, and both tea rings made it to their destination intact (although they didn't stay that way for long).

Later, after Denise pulled thumbprint cookies out of the oven and placed the plate within reaching distance, I was compelled to gobble some of those, too. 

In between the two incidents, there was other food, which I sort of remember. Pulled pork, mac 'n cheese, etc. But it's the classic desserts that reel me in every time.

Some of it is surely nostalgia. Tea rings and cookies were mandatory Christmas treats in our house, and when I see them again, they bring back mom...and boxes of cookies of various kinds, the Hershey's miniature countdown wreath, live Christmas tree and fake fireplace.

This time of year is when I feel most acutely the absence of my parents. When I gobble the goodies, I suppose it's my way of remembering and celebrating holidays past.

So, thanks, Denise for hosting. And Diane & John for putting me up. (And putting up with me.)

And may you all find a measure of happiness in the weeks to come. Let's hope next year brings the good kind of surprises.

Speaking of surprises, my brother boasted that he has some tea ring in his freezer. Maybe I'll show up on his doorstep one of these mornings to see if there's any left. 

I'm sure he won't mind...

Snitches Get Stitches

Am I the only one who thinks the whole Elf on the Shelf thing is just creepy?

public domain image

For the benefit of those who are childless or who have been living under a rock for the past several years, here's the skinny on Elf on the Shelf.

Some sadistic soul thought it would be a great idea to invent a stuffed elf, place him around the house and tell their kids that they'd better behave because the elf was watching them. Each night leading up to December 25th, parents are supposed to wait until Junior heads off to dreamland, then move the elf to a different location. The point of this exercise is to keep junior on his toes. If the kid screws up, the Elf rats him out and Junior's going to have a lousy Christmas.

I envision an awful lot of future therapy sessions for people traumatized by this red-suited buttinski who mysteriously turned up in random places around the house, ready to snitch on them for any transgression they may have committed. 

Trying to swipe an extra cookie? Sneak a peek at the presents Mom stashed in the closet? Watch a little more TV than you're allowed? Watch out, cause there's a blabbermouth in the house.

Honestly, growing up, we never needed a stupid Elf because Mom was on the job. She could smell cookies on our breath, hear the rustle of wrapping paper at 50 paces and knew when it was time to throw us out in the cold to get some fresh air away from the television screen. 

Anyone who has watched Bewitched knows that Gladys Kravitz was not a sympathetic character. Nobody likes to be spied on. As far as I'm concerned, Elf on the Shelf is just a big old snitch. 

And, like that old chestnut goes, "Snitches Get Stitches."

I thought I was being original, but to my chagrin I discovered there is actually a shirt that features this saying with a black-and-blue Elf.

Suffice it to say, there'll be no elf on any shelf in the Casa de Ginley. It's not that I've been naughty, mind you. 

I just don't want any elf up in my business.