Dolby Stereotype

As hard as I try to be open-minded and practice a certain degree of political correctness, there are certain thoughts that routinely go through my head that make me think I have a very long way to go in my path to worldly and cultural tolerance. My issue is that many stereotypes applied to particular races, religions, cultures, or social classes are perpetuated by the very people within the group. My judgments and thoughts are not aimed at particular group, but at any single person engaging in a practice or behavior that I find unacceptable and would question regardless of background. It is important, and legally wise, to practice equality in the workplace. I am passionate about workplace equality, myself a victim of “old boys club” sexism, which makes admitting my own form of bias all that more difficult. The cause of my prejudice might seem catty, but I am not alone in assessing people based upon a decision they make in their closets each morning.

It might seem unfair or old-fashioned to judge people by their fashion choices but “Dress for Success” is not just a kitschy little phrase but a ground rule for being taken seriously in work and in life. Outward appearance is our cover letter to the world and if people are uninterested or offended by the cover letter they will never read the attached resume; the personality, intelligence, and experience that lies below the surface. “Never judge a book by its cover” is a nice lesson we’re each taught by our parents, but in reality everyone and everything is critiqued in one way or another at how it is presented. If the cover of a book was unimportant publishing companies would not focus time and energy on determining the best colors, fonts, photos, and illustrations needed to sell more copies.

Costume design is as important to a movie as a powerful actor or a well written script. Moviegoers can instantly assess the historic time period of a film, the location and season of the scene, and the age, social class, profession and personality of a character simply through the attire. Producers, Directors, and Costume Designers put intense thought into every aspect of a person’s costume; costume design is a powerful tool in selling the believability of a character and the film. Wall Street Tycoons don’t wear jeans and tee-shirts in the movies.

Style is important to the image we each want to portray to the world and fashion choices should reflect the character you want to be in the world. Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis is a prime example of a person who communicated her personality, grace, strength, and charm through her choice of clothing. Without the use of provocative clothing Madonna might be recording memos in an office rather than platinum records. If you are trying to be successful in the adult entertainment industry then it is perfectly acceptable to dress for work in plunging necklines and daisy dukes.

Climbing the corporate ladder in a mini-skirt might work for Ally McBeal, but anyone who has climbed a ladder in inappropriate attire knows the risk of exposing too much. If a woman known for push up bras and stiletto heels somehow moves up in a company, most people are going think it is because she’s going down on the boss, no matter how smart or driven she is. In my career I have seen too many intelligent women “over sex” themselves at the office and guess what; no one thinks they are very intelligent.
Style in the workplace is not just for women. There are plenty of men who think black Chuck Taylors are the perfect dress shoe and ironing is optional. It is hard to take a man seriously when he looks like a childish, sloppy mess.

Clothing is one way we each assess a person outside the workplace as well. Many argue that you shouldn’t judge a person by their attire, but without judging outward appearances how would we each know who is okay to approach in a bar, or to ask directions. People make snap judgments to establish safety, comfort, and security. If you don’t want people thinking you are a thief and a murderer you should consider not dressing like a thug. If people treat you in a way you don’t like, analyze the message you are sending them.

It is hard not to judge people on their appearance, but especially hard not to judge a person by their clothing since that is something we can each control. You don’t need to be a fashion icon, lord knows I’m not. Nor am supporting the mindset that women “asked to be raped” due to their fashion choices. What I am saying is people make their initial judgments on the personality, intelligence, strength and character of a person by how they appear. This might not be right, but it is reality; you never get a second chance to make a first impression. We are each actors in our own life screenplay, making decisions everyday to further develop our script. Ensuring costumes match the script is an important step to have your story taken seriously.

Balloon Legislation a Big Bust

Happy Birthday, Get Well Soon, Congratulations, Over the Hill, Farewell, Happy New Year, and I Love You; all simple well wishes. But like the band Extreme says, sometimes we want, we need, more than words. We each need to see how much we are loved and appreciated; and nothing transforms simple words into displays of affection quite like a shiny Mylar balloons. Whether they float high above an office cube alerting coworkers of an important birthday or as the exclamation point declaring the purpose of an otherwise mundane bouquet of flowers, a single Mylar balloon can send a deeper and longer lasting message than other methods of occasion communication. A law proposed in California aimed at banning the use of Mylar balloons might help the environment, but how much would we lose in exchange for Mylar-free landfills?

California is often the frontrunner in environmental laws, so a law here would soon trickle and affect the rest of the country. First California will lead the charge banning Mylar balloons for electrical safety (if someone electrocutes themselves with a foil balloon we should thank Darwin)and environmental concerns, then legislation will certainly balloon out of control (pardon the pun), leading to a ban on all balloons. What a travesty! Balloons are as American as baseball and apple pie. Banning balloons is like banning turkey at Thanksgiving. Can you imagine birthday party, a circus, a trip to Disneyland without balloons? The landscape of Main Street USA just wouldn’t be the same without bursts of color flying high above a “cast member” defying the laws of physics, somehow remaining grounded despite a fist full of helium filled Mickey Mouse ear balloons. Latex balloons are already banned in most hospitals nationwide, ban Mylar and fewer people will gain the therapeutic benefits associated with a get well soon message.

It is estimated that the sale of foil balloons generate $100 million in sales each year in California alone. Add the add-ons that come with Mylar balloons; flowers, cookies, pretty little weights, and suddenly foil balloons generate $900 million in California sales. Opponents to the balloon legislation argue that the banning these balloons will cost jobs and tax revenue for the state. Ban balloons and the balloon guy at Disneyland will lose his job; someone has to protect the balloon guy’s career!

Balloons help us learn valuable life lessons from a very early age. We begin to understand disappointment when the balloon we begged our parents for floats away due to our own carelessness. We learn the importance of holding on to something tight when it is important to us; never let go of the things we love. We combat stage fright and fear of public speaking by sucking in helium and singing “Lollipop Guild” from The Wizard of Oz in front of all our friends. Tying the ribbon with a square knot around our wrists is the first step in earning scout badges, an early lesson of how to tie stuff to the top of our cars, and if we are lucky, priceless in the bedroom.

I am happy to report that foil balloon supporters and opponents reached a compromise in their fight, but it is important to remain vigilant in protecting our fundamental right to say it with helium. People who oppose the sale of helium balloons are not environmentalists; they are communists who threaten the very fabric of our culture. Save the balloons.

Celebrate the Road Taken

You’ll regret it someday. This sentence is one everyone hears at least a few times in their lives, often muttered by friends or family after life changing decisions like getting a tattoo, dropping out of school, or joining the circus. The childfree hear “you’ll regret it someday” from friends, family and perfect strangers who believe the decision to remain childfree will lead to a bleak future of sadness and regret. Rarely do people point out to a parent-to-be their possibility of future regret yet the decision to have children is filled with more struggle and sacrifice then remaining childfree.

For many parents the thought of regretting their children is a completely foreign concept, but some parents express quiet frustration of their irreversible decision. Parental dissatisfaction must be quietly expressed; it is less acceptable for a parent to show anything but infatuation with their children than it is to be childfree. Anonymously, parents acknowledge their trials and tribulations on True Mom Confessions and True Dad Confessions. People post about their loss of freedom, lack of time to themselves, decline of sex, and deterioration of their marriages. Parents express breeder’s remorse on being unable to complete more education, travel the world, learn a foreign language, or enjoy an evening out. These sites serve as excellent reminders that regret is not reserved for the childfree.

Regret comes from decisions you can’t take back: that tattoo of an ex’s name, a one night stand, the nose job, or mutually exclusive decisions (e.g. I couldn’t backpack Europe after college and afford an apartment with friends in DC, go to Georgetown and Mary Washington for my undergrad, continue my career in consulting and have dinner every night with my husband). Bypassing a European backpacking adventure after college was a tough decision, but lead to a career path that brought financial security, the opportunity to travel extensively, the dream of living in the DC area, and the chance meet my husband. Attending a large university might have brought a broader business network and potentially greater riches, but my decision to attend a small, liberal arts college offered me a wealth of experiences and opportunities that no large school could ever provide. Every choice requires a sacrifice; if you get hung up on what you missed out while pursing something else, life will be filled with nothing but regret.

“When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us.”
- Alexander Graham Bell

Life is filled with tough choices, we all give up something in pursuit of something else and the choice to have or not to have children is just another in a long list of life decisions. Admitting to the potential of regretting the choice to forgo motherhood is blasphemous in the childfree community and could open up a can of worms with my hopeful family, but let me make this clear; potential for regret is no reason to bring a child onto this planet. Sure I could regret not having kids, but chances are I would regret giving up everything a good parent sacrifices when children come into the picture. When presented with a fork in the road we can take one road and obsess where the other road went or make a directional decision and keep moving forward, never looking behind. Either we regret the road we didn’t choose or celebrate the path we did; we cannot “have it all” due to a lack of time, resources, and competing priorities. Rather than dwell on what life doesn’t have shouldn’t we each focus on everything it does have? While I will never have children, I have plenty of time to pursue hobbies, advance my career, travel the world, enjoy a full night of sleep, and retire early. Who could regret all that?

Sunday Bumday

A pot of coffee brews in the kitchen, the sweet smell of onions and peppers waft through the air as breakfast potatoes sizzle to a golden brown. Allison Young of NPR’s “Classical Music” presents a condensed biography on the composer Handel and before long the room is filled with a relaxing concerto. Lazy Sunday mornings are one of my simplest but greatest pleasures in life. As a naturally early riser, Sunday mornings provide a rare time of peace and serenity in our over-populated and stressful world; this time as one of my most treasured assets.

At 6:30 in the morning the outside the world is calm and still. A few finches and a cardinal the only sign of life, and most of my neighbors are still sound asleep; even the church goers still hours away from their ritual services. Luna and Solei, my energetic Schnoodles, seem to enjoy our quiet morning together as they nap nearby, rising only to look out the window when the sound of a woodland creature or the wind interrupts their slumber. Most mornings the dogs are hyper and anxious, ready to explore the outside world. On Sundays their animal instincts somehow know if they allow me to write and enjoy a cup of coffee in silence their morning walk through the neighborhood will be especially long.

As a type-A personality normally focused on an ever growing to-do list, the sheer pleasure I get from quiet Sundays might be surprise those who view me as being wound up tighter than a top. In the past I too would view such a weekly ritual as lazy; a waste of precious time. I am not a lazy person, I am a person who just enjoys, craves and requires some quiet moments. Somehow through the years I have come to embrace the importance of quiet me-time; perhaps a sign that with age does come a shred of wisdom. Time really is our most precious commodity and we are each granted the same 1440 minutes every day; how we use those 1440 minutes are what makes us each different.

Those with young children might find the concept of lazy Sunday mornings foreign. My enjoyment of me time is one of the major reasons I have chosen a childfree life. Just the thought of beautiful silence being disrupted by the need of other human can trigger feelings of anxiety. My whole day ahead of me is full of endless possibilities of my choosing. With the decision to have children comes the ultimate sacrifice of time, and it perplexes me how many choose to devote all their time to others, no longer able to enjoy time for relaxation or reflection on their thoughts and feelings.

Many people use Sunday morning minutes on less noble things then families. Some utilize the time to prepare for the upcoming work week, checking emails and voicemails, even sending emails to key people as if proving their level of commitment through a non-work day communication. They don’t have to give those minutes to their jobs but they still do; either not understanding or caring how precious that time is for themselves or the people they love. How we spend our time is forever etched in history and we cannot go back and take back all the minutes we gave to someone else.

“You don’t have kids so what do you do when you are not working?” There is a perception that the time of the childfree can be endlessly devoted to career, like tending to children is the only valid reason not to be working. There are plenty of noble callings and hobbies beyond work and children that people do in their spare time; volunteer work, music, art, and gardening just to name a few. The real challenge is accepting that it is okay if time is just spent being and living without an end goal or purpose and overcome any guilt associated with doing nothing. Somewhere along the line lazy became a new deadly sin and it recently hit me that this shift is reflected in the ultimate gauge of human behavior; commercials. Commercials no longer show people sitting on porches, under a tree, or in their yard doing nothing. Even Country Time Lemonade changed their advertising strategy, the gentle rock of a porch swing replaced by exercise in the lake. If the lazy lemonade of summer cannot relax how can the rest of us?

Because we live in a society that rewards people for handing their lives over to their careers or children, the love of quiet me-time has some negative consequences. Colleagues slowly move ahead a rung or two on the corporate ladder because they are willing to sacrifice their time and give it to “the man.” They too are awake now in the wee hours of Sunday, sending emails, constructing PowerPoint documents, and preparing for early Monday meetings. They, and unfortunately many executives, see this as the ultimate dedication to the company and their careers, and in years past I would agree with those thoughts. Each Monday morning I read a slew of emails sent the previous day, wondering what was so important that it could not wait 24 hours. Spending Sunday working from home is not dedicated, it is sad and pathetic; sad people feel like they have to spend all their time working and pathetic that they have nothing more important to do then work. Corner office be damned, there are some things in life not worth sacrificing for so called success.

Ironically, those of us who have lives outside of work and learn to find a balance are more efficient and effective then those whose time scale tips completely towards their careers. Quiet time allows us to relax and recharge, to expand and broaden our minds, to spend time making ourselves happier and healthier which makes us better people inside and outside the office. Personal time actually extends our longevity. All work and no play might be a good short-term solution to move up the corporate ladder, but when a stress induced heart attack cuts a life short that actually nets out to less time given to work. We might all get the same 1440 minutes in every day, but we’re not all given the same lifetime allotment of those minutes. Life is a marathon, not a sprint, and we each need to find something to keep us in the race. The smell the Sunday coffee, classical music, a good book, warm puppies, and hours spent with myself are now necessities making it to and living well past retirement. The only thing better than a lazy Sunday morning is a lazy, sunny, warm Sunday morning and today there is a hammock with my name on it.

Me Rite pretty To-day

One impetus for starting this blog was a desire to sharpen my writing skills and combat the inevitable decline that occurs when making the transition from college to the work environment. College professors at Mary Washington, and I should hope most institutions of higher education, required demanded their students to produce well written papers; eloquent, thought-provoking, interesting, and sometimes controversial. A few of the better professors challenged students to take our own opinions and explore other perspectives in writing, a technique often used when preparing for a debate. Writing on a topic of personal passion is easier than penning a viewpoint that opposes that passion, compelling a person to choose their words and delivery method wisely. These exercises tested not only our journalistic skills but our very belief system, creating avenues for personal philosophical debates and sharpening of our thought processes. Business writing utilizes some of these developed skills, but does not require nearly the same eloquence or allow for ample time to get the point across. While my days of 15 page papers might be long gone, there is still some skill needed to produce PowerPoint bullets that have a point and prove that point; even when you do not agree with the point. After acknowledging that business writing presented a different set of challenges than academic writing, I began my quest to write like a college student and am happy to report that the success of the endeavor.

According to the “Blog Readability Test,” a service that analyzes blog pages to determine what level of education is needed to read the site, Explosive Bombchelle is written at the college reading level.

This means I can still use words like a college student! Most of my work writing is geared at communicating to executives and colleagues who could certainly read at a college level, but do not have the time to devote to that level of reading. Others I work with utilize readability services and consultants that help gear their writing to the general populace and adhere to US government regulations and plain language laws. It is not uncommon for graduates to struggle with maintaining all the knowledge and writing skills developed in school. A good writer, like a good athlete, needs to strengthen their skills through hard work and practice. Even those who write for a living must find it difficult to maintain the same skill level they once possessed in school. Writing for a college professor is much more difficult than writing for any given publication; the New York Times and Washington Post maintain a High School reading level, Sports Illustrated is written at a Junior High Level. The government maintains that Medicare and Medicaid mailings should read at the Fifth Grade level yet the Internal Revenue Service Code is written beyond college reading level, go figure.

In conclusion, writing this blog has allowed me to:

• Sharpen my writing skills.
• Maintain my college level vocabulary.
• Explore my thoughts and opinions.
• Understand and analyze the opinions of others.

Bullets… just in case you required an Executive Summary.

Many thanks to Stepher for posting the Blog Readability Test.
Amendment to original post:
In response to my cousin Drew’s comment regarding the readability of the US Constitution, I had no choice but to see what the Blog Readability Test had to say about our founding fathers’ writing:

Very humbling...

Walk This Way

People that don’t know how to walk are quickly becoming the source of my biggest pet peeve. This is not a horribly insensitive shot at the physically challenged; these sentiments are reserved for those who can physically move one foot in front of the other but somehow lack the mental capacity to walk without wreaking havoc on everyone around them. Countless people seem to have an inability to navigate in public places and the number of individuals affected by this social disorder is either on the rise or my sensitivity to the stupidity is at its breaking point. Everywhere I go I feel inundated with hundreds of people who clearly think they own the sidewalk.

Stop in the Name of Love: The most dangerous habit shared by the socially inept walker is their susceptibility to stop without warning. Large crowds are moving along like a well choreographed dance production and suddenly one person throws off the entire routine, stopping in their tracks and sending everyone else tumbling. Adding to the annoyance of these sudden and frequent stops are the dangerous places these walking challenged individuals decide to put on the brakes, and the worst offenders are often found at the top of escalators motionless, clueless to the throngs of people about to fall like dominos behind them.

Long and Winding Road: Walking without purpose or intent is great for a leisurely walk on the beach but is a recipe for disaster in most other situations. Mapping the path of people who walk without direction looks much like something from the comic Family Circus when Billy’s route from point A to point B resembled a ball a twine more than a straight line. These people bob and weave without knowledge or cares of the number of people they cut across, run into and just otherwise annoy. While installing a blinker system on their asses could potentially help oncoming traffic better understand which direction they will go next, but in all honesty these are probably the same people who neglect to use their turn signal when driving anyway.

Never Stray too far from the Sidewalk: Pedestrians often forget they are sharing paths with people using modes of transportation other than their feet. When walking on mixed use paths it is important to remember some basic rules of acceleration and deceleration from mechanical physics. Just as a car cannot stop on a dime due to factors like speed, mass, and brake technology; neither can a bicycle or skate. So if someone moving at a fast speed with badly designed brakes, as are often found on bikes and rollerblades, on a mixed use path yells “On your left!” or “Watch out” and a pedestrian is stupid enough to get in the way, they deserve to be plowed over.

Pass the Dutchie on the Left Hand Side: Just like with driving, it is common courtesy for slow traffic to stick to the right lane and faster traffic to pass on the left. The only time this basic common sense rule should be ignored is when walking in a country that drives on the left (or wrong) hand side of the road to which the tenets of passing politeness should be reversed.

The Wall: Brainless walkers travel in packs like wolves and are able to combine forces inflicting greater impact with their thoughtless actions. These packs can often be found taking up entire sidewalks, hallways and paths, causing anger and frustration to those attempting to pass. Some popular places these packs strategically obstruct are stairwells, hallways, and doorways. Those traveling without their pack can overcome their lack of numbers with simple props like a bicycle or triple-wide stroller.

Parents Just Don’t Understand: Children are often the victims of their parents’ inability to teach them the rules of the sidewalk. There is a time and a place for children to run around without structure and direction but the local mall, bike path, or restaurant does not qualify. If a child gets hurt by someone because they got in the way a parent has no right to be indignant and angry at anyone but the person who is responsible for protecting their safety; themselves.

We are all guilty of walking offenses, but when most people run over, trip, push or cause others to dive out of the way they apologize for their actions. It is the completely self-absorbed masses who after causing collisions, falls, accidents and injuries are unapologetic or even confrontational that I have issues with. These idiots are an utter menace to society and should have their right to walk among others revoked.

AFD

After working for the Government, Financial Industry and Healthcare I saw every acronym under the sun; or so I thought. While driving around Australia, roadside billboards encouraged motorists to practise (yes, with the English “s”) two AFD’s a week for better health. The billboard gave little to no hint what an AFD was, depicting photos of couples enjoying a walk together or families out at the beach. There was such a frequency of the messages as we drove from Sydney to the vineyards of Hunter Valley that my curiosity quickly became overwhelming; I had to know what an AFD was. I don’t remember who exactly provided the AFD education, it could have been a waitress at a pub, a friend or random person on the street, but it was surprising and amusing to find out the definition behind the mysterious acronym; Alcohol Free Day.

Drinking is as much part of the Australian culture as big portions are to Americans. Everywhere you go there is a pub brimming with men and women alike enjoying a pint of their favorite beer, playing darts, engaging in conversation and relaxing with family and mates. This laid back part of the Australian culture and their ability to create a community over cocktails, is one of the many things I love about the country and its people. Teetotalers would definitely declare that the entire citizenry of the Island nation has a serious drinking problem but their drinking is no more a problem then in any other place in the world. Actually, I think the Australians are much more social in their drinking and in my experience are much less apt to hide it or imbibe alone.

Apparently the frequency of their socializing is a big enough problem that the Government found it necessary to start a public awareness campaign aimed a reducing the number of days people drink and not necessarily the amount. What a country! I started wondering deep down inside under all this European blood was an Australian just waiting to come out. Encouraging people to put down their bottles 2 days a week is like an open invitation to drink 5 days a week. If a person in the United States admitted to drinking 5 or more days a week they would be met with concerned looks, sneers and rejection. As one of my Australian friends has pointed out, that is one of the many differences between a country founded by convicts and a country founded by puritans; convicts are more fun.

Upon returning home from my adventure down under we could not help but share the AFD public service message with all our friends, many who thought we were joking. Public health campaigns in the United States usually focus on nutrition, exercise or the benefits of breastfeeding. It is comical to think of how an AFD campaign would be received in the US, the types of studies needed to prove any real health benefits, and if it is even necessary in a culture more focused on short term binges then daily drinking.

Coming from a family that often enjoys too much of a good thing and always watching my caloric intake, I thought I was all too aware of my drinking patterns. The AFD campaign opened my eyes to some interesting personal patterns that included having a drink (or two) after a particularly stressful day at work, frequent attendance at happy hours, a jam packed social schedule and an inability to turn down a free drink. Suddenly, when paying very close attention to my AFDs vs. ADs (alcohol days), I realized that after joking around that 2 AFDs hardly seemed like much of a sacrifice that I often didn’t adhere to this simple guideline.

"Stay busy, get plenty of exercise, and don't drink too much. Then again, don't drink too little."
-Herman "Jackrabbit" Smith-Johannsen

ADs were often just a glass of wine with dinner which aligns with many medical studies that show a single glass of wine daily actually has plenty of health benefits. Unfortunately, my attempts to enjoy the finer wines and spirits of life in daily moderation are just that; attempts. I easily succumb to peer pressure and it doesn’t take much of an arm twist to convince me to have another at happy hour, a party, or dinner. This unfortunate trait to enjoy too much of a good thing makes it impossible to follow the healthy guideline to have a single glass of wine a day. Perhaps the Australian Government, in their AFD public health campaign, realized that their citizens are also unable to embrace moderation and opted instead to encourage weekly holidays from alcohol. Two AFDs a week is a modest goal and even with a jam packed social calendar I am finding it easier and easier to have three or four AFDs a week which is helping out with the size of my waistline and my wallet. People no longer assume if I bypass the wine or beer for an ice tea at an event that I must be sick or, *gasp*, pregnant. All it takes these days is one simple explanation; it’s an AFD.

Road to Nowhere

Gas prices finally hit a point where my consumption pattern changed. After a grocery run on Friday morning I parked my Jeep Liberty in the garage and it hasn’t moved since. Luckily my option to occasionally work from home allows for this personal boycott of the local gas station but I know I cannot keep it up forever; there are very few places in the United States where is not a necessity and I live in one of those places. Eventually I’ll need to go into the office, head to the grocery store for milk, see a friend, take the dogs to the park, do any of a number of things that forces me to move my car from the garage and fill up the tank.

As a world traveler I have mixed feelings on our current gas price crisis. Honestly, we have been quite spoiled for years with our prices at the pump. Fuel was always more expensive overseas; I remember paying an exorbitant amount on a liter of gas in Spain circa 1998 while I was routinely paying about $.79 to $1.01 a gallon on my weekly drives from Delaware to either DC or NY. Whatever the reasons behind the price discrepancies, be it taxes, regulations, etc., US citizens became accustomed to gas prices being a non-issue in their everyday existences. No culture in the world has a love-affair with cars so intense as the United States. Compared to European and Asian countries, American history is still fairly young and undeveloped and the legends and folklore of this young nation revolves more around Henry Ford and automobiles then Knights and Kings in chariots and carriages. The French have the famous Champs Elysées lined with boutiques and restaurants and incredibly vehicle unfriendly. America’s Route 66, equally famous, but definitely not as pedestrian friendly as the grand roads of Europe.

The Federal-Aid Highway Act of 1956, championed by Dwight D. Eisenhower and also known as the National Interstate and Defense Highways Act of 1956, was originally launched as a defense effort giving the United States Armed Forces the Infrastructure needed to transport supplies and troops for national security from coast-to-coast. While the complex and expansive road system is a huge strength of the United States Military it’s uses for non-military driving and growth of vehicle usage leading to a culture of commutes and road trips is probably the real reason why the Highway Act was heavily lobbied for by the US car manufacturers.

Supporting the construction of roads from sea to shining sea was only one way the auto industry created a culture so enamored of and depended upon vehicle transportation. One example of the automotive industry directly limiting the transportation options of a city is in Minneapolis which was once a hot bed of rail and streetcar activity. Economic reasons did lead to the demise of the early public transportation lines in the Minneapolis Metropolitan area but the city is one of many that fell victim to what is referred to as the Great American Streetcar Scandal. GM, Standard Oil, Firestone, Mack Truck and Phillips Petroleum purchased over 80% of the trolley and streetcar companies nationwide and systematically switched the services over to buses, ripped out the rail lines and made way for more cars. GM’s the president, Alfred P. Sloan said, “We’ve got 90 percent of the market out there that we can…turn into automobile users. If we can eliminate the rail alternatives, we will create a new market for our cars.” In essence, car manufactures and oil companies created a transportation monopoly in the United States. Infrastructure design nationwide still revolves around the construction of roads to get from here to there and it has only been in the last decade that cities outside the largest even considered true mass-transit options.

Beyond the car transportation being a monopoly in and of itself there is a very real business monopoly in the world of oil and gas. The same companies who own the oil wells also own the refineries and the gas stations; the suppliers, manufacturers and distributors are all the same people. Any other industry employing these practices would find themselves disbanded. Many automotive executives hold stake in oil and gas companies making it less then desirable to develop practical vehicles that get good gas mileage. Price-fixing and gouging is all too easy when everyone stands to gain so much. If the same company who owned the wheat fields also owned the flour mills and the bakeries our morning bagels would cost a hell of a lot more then they do today.

Many can claim American’s are lazy and should be offsetting the high gas prices by getting some more exercise. Sounds like a great idea but there are many obstacles in front of a person looking to use personal manpower for transportation. Zoning laws often prevent the construction of mix-use buildings meaning there are few places where a good bakery, restaurant and corner store is conveniently located on the first floor of a condo complex. Newer communities and well-established suburbs have vast distances between their residential zones and commercials zones. It is not a short walk to get eggs and milk. If distances could be covered by foot or bike often the roads were just not designed for anything but vehicle traffic; the Death of the Sidewalk, cross-walks, or paths. The obsession with the American dream of a large house with land in a nice neighborhood pushes people further and further away from their places of employment; the longer the commute the less likely there is an option besides a car to get into the office. Even in active and healthy Minnetonka, home of some of the best paths, parks and recreational opportunities around, my neighborhood just got a sidewalk, in the main road last year and this sidewalk falls about a mile short of the nearest grocery store. During the summers I like to bike to work at least once a week but last year's local construction projects made it impossible to get to work without getting on a highway and bicycles are illegal on highways! I can get to the Dairy Queen using this new sidewalk which is interesting given our obesity issue in the United States.

Our economy and personal lives are too dependent on fuel to bear the sharp rise in prices over the course of the past 8 years. While we should be paying more then a buck a gallon for fueling our car it is the sudden and rapid inflation on gas that is hard to swallow. We live in a country where people and supplies cannot get from here to there without the use of gas. Even if everyone had the option like I do to park their car for four straight days, outside of the most major cities it is nearly impossible to get around without a car. Sure I drive what many would consider a gas-guzzler but we made a conscious decision to pay more for a house 3 years ago and factor in gas savings from a shorter commute into the home price and it was one of the smartest moves we ever made (negated quickly by buying a house at the peak of the housing market). I might be boycotting the pump for a few days but my twice a month fill-up is really nothing to complain about at any price.

A perfect storm of gas dependence was created by businesses, individuals and government officials who continue to profit from the policies and practices put in place long ago. So much effort is going into finding alternative fuels but there is such little focus on what caused our consumption issues in the first place and addressing those. What is truly sad is people who are forced to change their driving and gas consumption habits due to their economics cannot quit driving to work, or heading to the store for groceries but instead skip out on things like traveling to family for holidays, attending events both locally and regionally, or seeing friends. Politicians can tout family values all they want but the weak economy but ultimately high gas prices and our lack of other non-gas dependent transportation options will only keep people from enjoying valuable time with family and friends.

Take Me Out to the Broadway

For the record, Operation Embrace Winter was an astounding failure. The weather did not cooperate with my goals and it was impossible to enjoy winter sports that are mostly dependant on snow, something we got in December when it turned ugly and icy and stayed that way until this week. The lakes were well iced over but walking on ice with the pups was not the best idea as my husband could not join us and risk further injury to his shoulder already in a sling. Luckily the nasty, long season that is winter is almost behind us and rather then focus on my winter recreation plans that did not materialize I can communicate instead another goal that I actually completed last night. My lack of enthusiasm for living in the mid-west is well known as I yearn to be closer to family and my east coast centric view of civilization. Since moving back east is not on the immediate horizon it became necessary to embrace some of the finer things the Twin Cities has to offer. As locals know, Minneapolis is second only to New York in the number of theatre seats per capita and for me personally the accessibility of downtown is the one thing Minneapolis does have over Manhattan. Through the years we caught a production here and there but rarely with any consistency which is why we decided to purchase Broadway Across America season tickets to ensure we had 6 show dates on our calendar. This week marked the end of our subscription season and the Hennepin Theatre District saved the best for last.

The Wedding Singer was the first production on the schedule. The movie is in my top ten for romantic comedies and I was looking so forward to an evening of cheesy 80s music and a feel-good love story. Unfortunately the show left us wondering if our purchase of two tickets for 6 shows was one of the least wise investments ever made. The stage production of The Wedding Singer can be easily summed up in one word; horrible. All the music not written by Adam Sandler for the movie was left out of the show, more then likely because the rights to songs by A Flock of Seagulls, Spandau Ballet and Madonna would have sunk their production budget. Part of the movie’s appeal is the soundtrack and without those familiar songs the musical did not feel very musical. The Wedding Singer is a pretty simple movie but the chemistry between Adam Sandler and Drew Barrymore was believable and instantly made the film a classic romantic comedy. The woman who played Julia was so sweet she was saccharine and Robbie had pipes but no personality. The one standout in the show was the Boy George lookalike character, George, who stole the show.

Disney’s The Lion King was the next show to roll into town. We decided to take our “niece” Sophie to see the production. We discovered in the first 30 seconds of the show that poor Sophie had a small fear of the dark and I quickly learned how skilled I was running up an aisle filled with actors dressed as animals on the African plains with a 3 and a half year old in my arms. The theatre staff got us a seat to watch the show on their hallway TV and we realized Sophie just wasn’t ready for the show and her Dad came to get her. That is where the whole Minneapolis being accessible thing really came in handy, can anyone from Long Island imagine running to Manhattan to pick up their kid so Aunt Shelf and Uncle wadE could catch the rest of the show? We did catch most of the show and it was… okay. Like most Disney shows it was visually spectacular; the costumes, the lights, the special effects. I think my disappointment was a case of high-expectations that just were not met. My only experience seeing a Disney Musical was a production of Beauty and the Beast at the Kennedy Center which was amazing. The Lion King was good but it was not as well done as other shows and the story is really not among my top Disney favorites (and you cannot believe how upset I am that the Broadway version of The Little Mermaid received terrible reviews). We did learn from very sympathetic parents in our section that we should take Sophie to the Minneapolis Children’s Theatre where the lights are always on.

Avenue Q is Sesame Street for adults, but only adults who can handle songs with somewhat uncomfortable topics and puppets having sex. Songs like “Everyone’s a Little Bit Racist,” "What do you do with a B.A. in English?,” “It Sucks to be Me,” and “The Internet is for Porn” teach more valuable life lessons “C is for Cookie” or “Sign, You’re a Friend of Mine” ever could. Of course the musical did have me question what was really behind the Sesame Street classics “Rubber Duckie” and “Doin’ the Pigeon,” but I digress. We loved the show; the concept of Sesame Street for Adults, the provocative songs, the performers. The only thing we loved more then the show was the audience reaction to the show. At 32 years old we are not your average theatre patron. Playbill has a section called “The Playbill Reader” so advertisers know the type of audience they can target. The average Playbill reader is 45.9 years old, has an annual household income of $132,240 and a median home value of $476,315, so the average member of the audience was slightly appalled at some of Avenue Q’s content. The row of older women in front of us and their gasps were almost as entertaining as the show. During intermission they were talking and horrified that “Gertrude was seeing tomorrow night’s performance and she’s going to faint.” After the final curtain I was personally appalled at the number of people who got up and left without even so much as a golf clap, rude! Kudos to the writers of this edgy show, if shows don’t start looking at capturing different audiences theatre could find themselves without patrons in another 20 years.

Sweeny Todd is one of my favorite shows, and the last production I saw at the Kennedy Center was nothing short of haunting. We avoided seeing Johnny Depp’s screen version so The Husband would not have the show spoiled. The cast was amazingly talented but the show again fell short of expectations. The director’s interpretation and translation of the script was awful. The sound was off. It was hard to follow, difficult to hear and overall seemed disjointed which was a shame because the actors were Tony winners straight from Broadway which we thought would make up for a “Law and Order” free cast. Through the years we have read the Playbill and the number of actors who appeared on “Law and Order” has a direct correlation on the quality of the show; more “Law and Order” guest appearances means a better stage production. So even though the stage was packed with Tony Award winners our “Law and Order” Theory remained strong.

My Fair Lady was the one show The Husband was fighting me on, even going so far as to pawn the tickets on girlfriends who would enjoy the show more then him. I tried to persuade him to go based upon his need to expand his cultural literacy through seeing this classic and timeless show but ultimately he went because we mixed up the date on our calendar and realized about 7 hours before show time that the show was not the following week. I am happy to report that The Husband enjoyed the production which was professionally done with great costumes, stage direction and a top notch cast. We were fortunate to attend an evening where Eliza Doolittle was being played by an actress participating in a actor exchange program; she plays Eliza in the production in London’s West End. The pompous and arrogant Henry Higgins fast became a new hero of The Husband and suddenly I was being referred to as “you impudent hussy!”

Jersey Boys, the story of The Four Seasons, was a huge award winner on Broadway and some of the cast was straight from the original production. Upon entering the theatre I had an instant good laugh at the warning posted at the box office; “Jersey Boys is not recommended for children under the age of 12. The characters use coarse ‘authentic Jersey’ language throughout, and the show also includes sexual situations.” As I speak fluent “authentic Jersey” I didn’t need subtitles. Songs that are instantly recognizable does enhance the theatre experience but the intense energy of the cast and fast-paced script were nothing short of incredible. As a season ticket holder you actually begin to recognize and have conversations with other season ticket holders and by the sixth show we knew many of the people around us. The woman sitting next to me had been trying to figure out for 4 shows what actress I looked like and finally declared “Sarah Michelle Gellar” as she took her seat; we had given her that name as a possibility early in her struggle to find the name but she needed to catch some old Buffy re-runs to make the connection herself. This same woman wondered if we would enjoy the show nearly as much as the rest of the audience who had followed Frankie Valli long ago. While I’m not sure if I left the production with the same level of nostalgia felt by the baby boomers among us the songs were all recognizable; my parents are baby boomers with a love of music.

A quote from Jersey Boys which I instantly adopted as my own:

"I'm maybe the one Italian out of a hundred who's not into the drama!"
- Bob Gaudio, The Four Seasons

Before Jersey Boys we questioned whether we were going to renew next year’s subscription and much of that will have to do with what shows come to The Hennepin Theatre District, but the final show was so good that chances are good we will get some ticket package even if it is not the full season. After 6 plus years of marriage it is easy to fall into a boring routine and forget to explore all the fun in your own back yard. Buying season tickets forced us to have unique and fun date nights on our calendar and the quality of the shows, although mostly good, were not nearly as important as making sure we continue doing things that improve our quality of life and strength of our relationship.

Drip Trip

San Diego is often touted as the US location with the most beautiful weather. One long standing joke is that the easiest job in the universe is a meteorologist in San Diego; just say “It is going to be 78 and sunny” and repeat sentence daily. It is only appropriate that I sit shivering under an umbrella by the pool of the famous and classic Hotel Del Coronado wearing jeans and a sweatshirt while watching the rain drops (and hail!) hit the water’s surface. I possess a special “gift,” apparently handed down by one if not both of my parents, to bring unusual weather to any vacation destination. Ten straight days of rain and mudslides in Hawaii, frigid temperatures during Sydney’s normally sizzling New Year’s celebrations, snow in Orlando and a monsoon in Arizona are only a few examples of the strangeness that is weather on a typical vacation. To survive this lifelong “blessing” from the weather gods I developed a pretty good sense of travel humor and the ability to make the most of a wet situation. After all these years of inclement traveling I consider myself an expert on how to make the most of a vacation when Mother Nature decides not to cooperate.

Explore Indoors: To the defense of the fine city of San Diego the weather was fantastic during the time I spent holed up in conference rooms attending a healthcare conference; my true reason for the trip. But like every conference related business trip I like to take the little spare time that is available to explore and discover some of the local culture and attractions. While San Diego has so much to offer I thought it was more important to make the most of my time in Coronado, specifically to enjoy the location of the conference. My life to-do list included a stay at the famous Hotel Del Coronado, backdrop for Marilyn Monroe’s “Some Like it Hot,” the inspiration for the movie/book “Somewhere in Time,” vacation destination of stars and dignitaries and among the most beautiful and recognizable hotels in the world. I could easily spout out dozens of adjectives in an attempt to explain this hotel but I will try to wrap it up in just one word; captivating. A walk into the lobby is like stepping back in time to an era where architects paid attention to detail and employed craftsmen who took great pride in their work as artists with pallets of wood, stone and iron rivaled any painting on earth. Hours could be spent discovering every nook and cranny of the expansive hotel and still not see the minute details of the building. Especially beautiful is the iron birdcage elevator in the lobby, the Otis company’s 61st elevator build in 1888, which is run by a uniformed operator.

Good Eats: Discovering new cuisine and local restaurants is a highlight of any vacation and quickly becomes the main highlight of a trip when weather prohibits outdoor activities. Al fresco dining was out of the question which changed the usual ambience of Coronado dining but did not limit the dining options which are plentiful and diverse. The Brigatine came highly recommended by the concierge and the fresh seafood options did not disappoint. Island Pasta was equally impressive, packed with locals enjoying their simple Italian menu bursting with the freshest ingredients and the most reasonably priced good meal found on Coronado Island. Every restaurant visited highlighted their menus with locally grown produce served at their peak flavor, something sadly missing in winter cooking back home in Minnesota.

Long and Unwinding Road: Long walks power walks on the beach would not provide a pleasant exercise experience so hitting the gym became a necessary way to burn off all the fine-dining calories. Since I already was at the gym I decided to take a tour of the Spa at the Del and quickly booked an appointment for one of their signature facials. As much as I enjoy facials in salons back at home nothing beat the luxury of a treatment at a full service spa in a resort setting and one of the best ways to make the most of a rainy day. Although my facial was only 50 minutes I spent well over 3 hours enjoying all the spa had to offer; eucalyptus steam room, hot tub, heated infinity swimming pool, hot tea, cucumber water, fresh berries and massaging showers. My only complaint was the outdoor fireplace was not on or I would have spent many more hours baking by the pool without freezing my behind off.

Suck it Up: Rain or Shine there are some places that must be visited no matter what the weather and in San Diego that place is the zoo. Bundled in a hooded sweatshirt, I stood out in a crowd of locals who wore their warmest winter coats complete with wool hats and gloves. The one positive thing about cold weather is the animals were all out enjoying the cool breezes and the baby animals were playing before the arrival of the next storm. The weather made it impossible to see much of the 1800 acre complex but I did manage to see the baby panda Zhen Zhen (so cute!), polar bear and gorillas before thunder and lightening drove everyone from the San Diego Zoo.

After a terribly long and brutal winter it was disappointing that my escape to San Diego ended up all wet but it was not a surprise; put me up in your nicest hotel and it is all but guaranteed bad weather will follow. It is this foul weather consistency that has be considering a new career as a Rain Maker. Attention local and world leaders looking for drought relief: for a nominal fee I will come for a visit and your water problems will be a thing of the past. Renting out my personal black cloud to others might be a very lucrative career move allowing me to travel for a living which would make me happier then any sunny day.

The Happiest Restaurant on Earth

Disney World, the happiest place on earth, is now an even happier place for those who want to indulge in an Adult Friendly evening. Victoria and Albert’s, a five star restaurant in Disney’s Grand Floridian Resort, officially adopted a policy of no children under the age of ten at the start of 2008. The decision on the part of Disney management is one to be applauded; no one should be subject to a misbehaving child during $125 prix fixe meal. Some argue that this is the newest addition to a growing number of “child-unfriendly” policies sweeping the nation but few are addressing the root cause of the issue; why are businesses compelled to ban children?

Victoria and Albert’s is the definition of an upscale dining experience. Upon arriving each woman receives a single red rose and diners are escorted to a very small and private dining room. Guests enjoy a 2 ½ hour multi-course gourmet meal served with white gloves in an atmosphere compete with harpist. For an extra $60 above the base price of $125 you can enjoy a wine pairing with each course; this is a culinary event and not just a dinner. Does this sound like the kind of place to bring a child under the age of 10? Management attempted to communicate the adult setting of this restaurant with the absence of children’s pricing, yet parents insisted on bringing their young children. Ultimately the high number of complaints directed towards ill-behaved children forced Disney to take action, ensuring their key clientele paying top dollar would have the perfect evening they were looking for. Interestingly enough, reports indicate the biggest complaints came from parents who were trying to get away from children for the evening.

Disney is not alone. There are a growing number of restaurants, shops and bars addressing the presence of children on their premises. Ultimately it boils down to one thing; there is a time and a place for children and too many parents have demonstrated their inability to draw the line as to when and where children are appropriate. Fancy restaurants, rowdy bars, adult theaters and antique shops are just a few examples of businesses that are not designed for children and are taking official action to keep them out. Even casual restaurants and cafes are starting to create policies so their diners without children, or with well-behaved children, are not forced to endure inconsiderate parents and their misbehaving brood.

There is parental backlash against establishments enforcing a brat-free environment. Parents with a sense of entitlement are going so far as to bring age-discrimination lawsuits when denied entry or asked to leave when their child is acting up. This anger and action against restaurants is terribly misplaced. Rather then focusing upon busines policies shouldn’t we instead focus on the mounting parental irresponsibility driving the need for these policies? Even parents who actually have darling, perfectly behaved children recognize there are other parents who refuse to discipline and control their offspring and children-free policies are making up for a lack of common sense.

A combination of political correctness and mommy-mania has us dancing around the issue of parents refusal to supervise their children causing chaos, running around restaurants, tripping patrons and waitstaff, disrupting conversations, ruining everyone’s day and becoming a danger to themselves and those around. What is a sad testament to the state of our society is how many parents do not notice or care about their children running amok. Few parents take criticism of their children very well and most are horrified when confronted with the suggestion their child is anything less then perfectly behaved, becoming indignant when confronted. The worst behaved children are often the offspring of parents who would accept a request to gouge their eyes out with a sugar spoon sooner than a request to shut their kids up; making it nearly impossible to communicate when junior is causing angst amongst diners.

Even worse are those who claim this disorderly conduct is a normal part of growing up and calming children down is an impossible task or one that will hurt their fragile self-esteem. These parental excuses are leading to generations of children who without the most basic understanding of politeness and respect are ill-equipped to function upon leaving the nest. Some parents argue that these restaurant bans will actually limit their ability to teach children how to behave while dining out which is nothing short of absurd. Like all good lessons that of table manners can begin at home. If parents allow their children to run around the house and act up during mealtimes this behavior will not miraculously disappear when entering a fine French restaurant. Children can even learn table manners at McDonald’s if parents demand them to behave with the same courtesy and respect that is expected in a higher class restaurant. The lessons of public etiquette and behavior should be approached much like our schooling; just as we don’t expect a five year old to thrive in high-school algebra we shouldn’t expect that same five year old to master the skills necessary to dine in a five star restaurant. Even restaurants that cater more to children should not be viewed as a playground; no one visiting Applebee's expects an intimate and quiet dinner but that is no excuse to let children hang from the rafters.

Parents also argue that they are entitled to enjoy a fine meal just as much as non-parents forgetting that part of the choice to have children includes sacrificing visits to restaurants that serve foie gras. Unless willing to hire a babysitter parents should stick to restaurants with high chairs, children’s menus, kids eat free specials and placemats with crayons. Children will still get a night out with their parents and will be far happier with chicken finger then goose liver. There are far more places that cater to children then those that don’t. Those who enjoy the pleasure of an intimate dining experience or even a quiet coffee shop should support businesses brave enough to stand up to “family-friendly” pressures to provide an adult-friendly atmosphere.

We're all family

There is nothing I despise more then a trip to the mall on a weekend during the holidays. With the advent of online shopping there is really very little reason to suffer the torture of mall shopping. I will, however, brave the snow, cold, crowds and children awaiting their turn with Santa for one reason and one reason only; to use my sister’s coveted Macy*s Friends and Family discount. It is fast becoming a tradition to brave the crowds, the lines and the frostbite for the opportunity to get a substantial discount on presents for myself and others. This bravery was once well rewarded but this year the Ho Ho Ho was taken out of our holiday shopping when we discovered posters all over the store offering everyone the friends and family discount.

It is a treat each year to go shopping with an additional 20% off everything coupon, even sale items, granting the opportunity to give very generous looking holiday gifts for a fraction of the cost and allowing a few new items to enter the personal closet rotation. We are incredibly excited to be in the special circle of friends and family lucky enough to get such good deals and it makes our sister so happy to share this with us. This year the circle was expanded and not all that special to be in; everyone was given the discount and the piece of paper in our pocket was worthless. What was more upsetting is the Friends and Family discount was being used as a store sale meaning nothing else was discounted; no opportunity for legendary stories of getting an additional 20% off items that were already marked down to nothing, no jokes that the store almost had to pay you to walk out with the item.

Realizing that there was little reason to actually go on a spending spree, I had to know why the decision was made to cheapen the meaning of the discount by offering it to everyone. After enquiring with a sales woman on why the largest department store in the US would resort to giving the discount to everyone she gave me the following answer; management found that people get upset at promotions they didn’t get it. Have we gotten so selfish and childish as a society that Macy*s has to pretend that everyone is family? Has our entitlement culture really become so out of hand that people are being petty enough to demand a store discount they don’t deserve?

What infuriated me more then having a pretend sale by including everyone as friend was the thought of thousands of coupons printed for actual employees to share with their loved ones; what an absolute waste of natural resources! In this time of environmental consciousness to be so utterly irresponsible as to waste that much paper is an abomination. A rainforest in Brazil was probably stripped clean so Macy*s could print the coupons AND the signs for the stores saying everyone got the discount.

Even worse then the filling landfills is how this employee perk, used to recruit people for both full-time and seasonal employment, is now worthless in the hiring process. There is no industry worse then retail during the holidays and the ability to get discounts is a tool used to convince people to work the insane hours and deal with irate customers. The sales women I talked with was very upset as she believed the friends and family discount was a perk of her employment and a “gift” she could give those she loved who put up with her stress and crazy schedule during the holiday season. She was absolutely right to feel slighted; her terms of employment and compensation were altered so Macy*s could engage in this badly executed sales ploy.

Over the past few weeks I quickly discovered that this sales tactic was not isolated and retailers nationwide were jumping on the Friends and Family bandwagon. It must be the latest fad in sales and marketing because suddenly emails and coupons came pouring in for a wide variety of stores offering the friends and family discount; Kenneth Cole, H2Oplus, ArtsyTartsy, Gap, Eddie Bauer- the list goes on and on. Each “offer” made me angry for all the people who sacrifice so much of their time and energy this time of year and are now receiving even less compensation for surviving the over-commercialization of Christmas. Perhaps I am overly sensitive since I did not get a cashmere sweater for $8 this year, but after a short time working in retail people who survive sales in December deserve this one little bonus.

Nothing Special

The advent of the VCR and subsequent technologies aimed at bringing instant entertainment into the home have all but ended one of my favorite childhood holiday activities; watching Christmas specials. Immediately following Thanksgiving the major networks would begin airing a long list of timeless classics building into a crescendo of holiday excitement until Christmas Day. While it is no longer necessary to plan life around a television schedule I cannot help but wonder what it is we lose when all our entertainment is available on demand.

Viewing Christmas specials once required use of the TV guide, a relic in weekly publications, and serious time management skills to juggle the long list of programs. December would not the same if we missed Charlie Brown’s Christmas and had to wait a full year to see it again; a modern day tragedy. Revolving evening activities around annual airings led to a certain air of excitement and giddy anticipation, almost as exhilarating as the arrival of Santa Claus himself! The real thrill of all this had very little to do with the actual quality of the show itself and more to do with the traditions around the evening; our whole family piled on the couch, cuddling with our Velveteen rabbits, eating popcorn, laughing.

Tradition also dictated that we repeated conversations and observations year after year; arguments over the quality of A Muppet Christmas Carol versus Mickey’s Christmas Carol, Frosty Returns not being nearly as good as Frosty the Snowman, how Stupid Karen was wearing a skirt to the North Pole, the Grinch’s poor dog being the most tortured character on television. These types of discussions and moments in front of the tube together were not limited to December; ever wonder who actually gave kids rocks like in Charlie Brown’s Halloween or why Peppermint Patty didn’t have parents to cook Thanksgiving Dinner? How many people remember all the commercials and build up to the twice a year showing of The Wizard of Oz? These were not just television programs, they were events cherished by both children and adults.

The anticipation and excitement of television specials are things of the past for most people, replaced by instantaneous satisfaction and the ability to view these programs over and over. How many of us treat watching a television special as the social event of the week; entertainment on demand has taken the “special” out of television specials and made watching them quite ordinary. It was not until many years later that I began to appreciate how wonderful evenings with my family around the television was, especially around Christmas; during the hustle and bustle of the season we took the time to settle down for an evening or two.

Television specials gave us more then just time together; we also learned so many other lessons that are lost today. Waiting for our favorite show required a great deal of patience because we could not see them any time we wanted. Once the time came to watch we learned to be quiet and pay attention because we couldn’t rewind to see what we missed. We also learned to time our bathroom breaks quite carefully; there was no pausing the action for bladder issues. These changes could be part of the reason children of today come off as demanding and impatient; commercials are fast forwarded, live action paused, any show they want available at the click of a button. It is actually quite sad that families do not get to feel the same simple joy and togetherness that TV used to provide and must go to further and more expensive means to experience anticipation and togetherness. It could also be the reason I avoid watching television; it’s really just not all that special anymore.

CSI Dublin

I was quoted in yesterday's USA Today article "Should you say yes to rental car insurance? It depends" written by Gary Stoller after being interviewed about an experience in Ireland we had in 2005 which we affectionately refer to as "CSI Dublin." The quote relates back to the biggest lesson we learned after damage to our rental car was discovered upon returning it; always get the insurance when renting a car overseas.

We can laugh about the experience 2 and a half years later, but the only thing more stressful then driving on the roads of Ireland is dealing with a damaged rental car. To see more then just the inner city of Dublin we rented a car for two days and drove around the countryside dodging animals, stone walls and oncoming traffic with ease. After two days we had enough driving and returned the car to the airport, leaving us the opportunity to explore the city on foot for a few days. When the agents inspected our car they found the bumper stripped of paint with a small dent. Upon much protest, we were charged a $750 Euro deductible.

Examining the car, it became apparent that the damage was consistent with the car hitting a cement object, like a pole. We realized that the valet at the hotel must have damaged the car and the rental car company informed us to inspect the security tapes at the hotel to prove we did not cause the damage. The manager of the hotel was very helpful and sifted through the security tape from the evening before and we could not find any evidence that the car was damaged during that time. We then turned to our own camera where we saw the damage on a digital image that indicated that the accident happened two nights prior. Upon reviewing even more security tape we discovered there was a significant amount of time that our rental car was not accounted for on the tape leaving us no option but to head to the garage and find the scene of the crime ourselves.

We headed to the underbelly of the hotel with the general manager to inspect the area of the garage where the security cameras did not capture any footage. After some inspection it became obviously where the incident occurred; a huge amount of blue paint consistent with the color of our rental was on a pole and chips fresh on the floor. The manager apologized profusely as I took some photos and saved some paint chips in an envelope.

The hotel agreed to pay for the damages, however, would not pay the deducible outright before the car was fixed and a final bill was sent to them with the actual amount, which we all believed would be far less then the exorbitant deductible. Months later, the rental car company sent the hotel a bill for charges that were obviously unrelated to the incident, fixing much more then just the scratched bumper and sticking the hotel with the full deductible amount. So, four months later I received a $750 Euro check (which was worth $61 less then it did when I paid the deductible the first time), an apology and a voucher for 2 free nights at the hotel whenever life had me back in Dublin.

The experience left me quite bitter about rental car companies; the dishonesty of fixing more then just the damage incurred during my rental taught me that if you damage a car you will ALWAYS pay the full deductible amount. Yes, my own insurance would probably have covered some of the damage but the phone calls to Ireland to deal with the bills and the idiots at the car company would have cost me more time and money then the claim's worth. While I still decline the extra insurance domestically, the money it costs to get the extra insurance overseas is well worth saving an already expensive vacation; the experience almost ruined our European adventure.

Trick or Tree

Kids are barely out of their Halloween costumes and devouring their candy these days before we are bombarded with Christmas music piped through the mall and lights flickering in store windows. While I do not agree with the retail industry’s practice of pushing the start of the Holiday season earlier and earlier I have come to accept this annoyance as part of their business plan; get people shopping early and often. Retail establishments can do anything they want to lure customers in but when it comes to Christmas most people verbally express themselves as “old-school;” the season does not begin until Santa shows his rosy face and his little round belly at the end of the Macy*s Thanksgiving Day parade. While many people verbally adhere to this unofficial celebration calendar it is increasingly apparent that the trend towards post-Halloween yuletide is on the rise.

The first major sign came in the form of an email on November 1 from Fortunoff, a retailer in the New York metro area, announcing Santa’s November 3 appearance in their stores. Somehow Fortunoff arranged for Santa’s early arrival from the North Pole, a full 52 days before Christmas, so little girls and boys can get a jump start on their wish lists. The magic and joy of the holiday season with traditions like visiting Santa AFTER Thanksgiving ruined by this cheap marketing ploy, making Santa nothing more then some old man with a white beard that spends too much time, almost two months- 1/6th of the year, hanging out by the food court. Anyone who visits Santa this early in the season deserves to have him forget their list by December 24th.

People hanging their outdoor Christmas lights early in November is not that unusual in the frigid north with many lawn decorations impossible to drive into the frozen ground by December. What is unusual is witnessing how many people have already flipped the switches on those lights. It surprises me that with exorbitant price of electricity and the global push to “go green” and cut down on our use of natural resources that these houses twinkled under the glow of colored lights right after Election Day. Our old townhome community had official rules on the books regarding the use of Christmas lights; on after Thanksgiving and off by January 31 which seemed dictatorial when I lived there but now seem like logical standards we should all adhere to. I love the beauty of lights against a backdrop of stars and snow but fully believe the dark winter nights of January can use some sparkle far more then the crisp fall evenings of November.

We also received our first yuletide greeting in the mail, a Christmas card postmarked on November 1. To our friend's defense she is leaving the country for over a month but it would be much better to receive a New Year's greeting; less guilt around receiving a card before even ordering my own.

Flipping mindlessly through the channels last night, desperately trying to procrastinate by finding something worthwhile to watch on television, I was enraged to turn on TBS and find The Grinch who stole Christmas preparing to rob all the toys from Whoville. For several moments I watched in disbelief, desperately hoping the vision on the screen was nothing more then an extended commercial for their holiday line-up only to find myself utterly disappointed at the sight of Cindy Lou Who. It is only a matter of time before the networks begin showing the following double feature; “It’s the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown” with “A Charlie Brown Christmas.” Dr. Seuss must be rolling in his grave as the ultimate message of his famous book is all but forgotten in our retail driven society; "Maybe Christmas doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas... perhaps... means a little bit more!"

Layovers and Connections

Unless you have lived under a rock for the past 10 plus years, are unable to use a radio or somehow managed to avoid being in a car after 7pm weekdays, then chances are you know of the radio personality Delilah. My memories of her raspy voice, the overly mushy callers pouring their hearts out and Delilah’s knack for choosing a song dedication to perfectly match her caller’s sappy story go way back to a time I frequently drove the I-95 corridor between New York and Virginia over a decade ago. Although her narratives cause excessive gagging and the chosen music can slip listeners dangerously into coma territory, the evening Delilah show is one thing a radio can consistently pick up regardless to what stretch of road you find yourself on from coast-to-coast. Delilah continues to reach my ears through the radio waves, encouraging her listeners to “love someone tonight,” whether life has me on I-95 in the Northeast, California’s Pacific Highway, or I-94 in Chicago. She has evolved from Chicken Soup for the Romantic’s soul into an overly moral, Dr. Phil meets Sally Jesse Raphael on saccharine laced crack irritating preacher, yet here I sit in a hotel room in San Antonio, Texas listening to her little program which causes me to ponder; how many things in life do we do not because we enjoy it, pays the bills or provides others any pleasure, but simply because it is familiar?

It is not hard to think of dozens of things we do, eat, or listen to for reasons other then the connection they provide to the past. Holiday traditions are an excellent example of this; cranberry sauce that maintains the shape of the can, sweet potatoes with marshmallows, pickled herring, capozzelli (lamb’s head for you non-Italians), lutefisk (cod soaked in lye for you non-Scandinavians). Each one of us can attest to the items that hit our table during celebrations that either sit untouched for the entire meal or are consumed under great amounts of protest. Holiday after holiday, year after year, we muster up the courage to cook and consume a variety of foods because somehow the holiday would not be the same without them. The comfort and consistency we find in these items and remind us of our past and connect us to family and strangers alike.

Time goes by, years fly, generations pass and after a while no one remembers why we streak campus on the day of the first snowfall, watch the mind-numbing Yule log burning bright on channel 11, haze underclassmen with duct tape and cans of shaving cream, toilet paper and parade around school on the last day of class, or wear an unflattering shade of white in our weddings. We simply do these silly, crazy or disgusting things because others; extended family, friends of friends of friends, distinguished alumni, and random people from distant history, established the traditions and laid the path to follow long before we were even blips on the radar screen of life.How does the Delilah evening radio program connect with the rich tapestry of traditions that binds us to the past? They are linked through the similar emotions they invoked; comfort, familiarity, warmth and stability, feelings so powerful they often cause us to do things we do not like or understand just to connect us with the past, strengthen our relationships, and feel secure in our chaotic world. Each time I hear of a person who dismisses traditions as “old-fashion,” outdated or stupid I cannot help but think how they miss the big picture; generations of people, alive and dead, connected through shared customs. These traditions might evolve as families grow, cultures merge and the world progresses, but at the heart they remain a keystone in the building block of our lives.

So here I sit, listening to a radio program because it connects me to a time long ago when life often had me stranded in a car or a hotel room far away from home yearning for a little company; Delilah provided that company. What began as means to get me through long drives turned into a personal ritual anytime work sends me far from home. It is the same reason I dye eggs at Easter although I hate my eggs hard boiled, blow out candles when I would rather blow past a birthday, wrestle with tangled Christmas lights when it is 20 below outside, and recite the traditional lord’s prayer even when a church uses the modern version; the more things change, the more important it is do some things the same. As the late Deborah Kerr said in “An Affair to Remember,” “Winter must be cold for those with no warm memories,” and many memories are warmer when shared repeatedly with others over the course of a lifetime.

Oh, the places I went

Ten years ago this month I obtained my first passport via super-expedited gotta get it right away overnight courier service after receiving word that my employer needed me to fly to Spain ASAP; spoiled by the ease and speed that comes with a $330 (company paid) price-tag for overnight passport needs. That initial trip abroad infected me with an incurable case of wanderlust and the Passport pages illustrate the extent of my travel bug; entry stamps from far away lands, dates of travel forever emblazoned in colorful ink, the folds and creases in the book- signs of wear and tear evidence of a passport well used. With the final chapter scheduled to close on my first little blue book I filled out the paperwork for renewal, simple and painless except for my inability to actually mail it to the passport agency; paralyzed by fear of being trapped, unable to travel at a moments notice.

It was actually the perfect time for my passport to expire; my insane work schedule leaves no time to travel abroad and my bank account is still recovering from 3 weeks down under earlier in the year. Besides a now passed trip to Canada in August (which requires a passport) my travel calendar is clear until September 2008. My irrational fear of being trapped in the United States had little to do with any actual travel opportunities or illegal activities that required sudden trips, but was directly related to the changes in passport rules this year and the consequential delays experienced by everyone needing new or updated travel documents. The media reported horror stories of people having to cancel trips when their passports were delayed over 4 months; what if George Clooney invited me to visit his home in Lake Como or if the UK decided to privatize their health system and needed someone to architect their new business processes? Anything can happen in 4 months! Although I had nothing exciting planned the thought that I could not plan anything or be spontaneous scared me.

After several months and countless hours spent agonizing over the expiration date on my blue-plethered friend I was alerted by several TSA security officials on a trip to New York that my passport was about to expire. My plan was to fly to New York and renew my passport from my hometown in some sort of odd symbolic personal ceremony. There was no rational reason behind this, if anything it was fated to be a stupid move; my hometown post office is world renown in their ability to lose important items. Suddenly, the thought of my very first passport with all the beautiful stamps and stickers being lost forever caused intense sadness, like I was losing a good friend, shifting my focus from fearing delay of my new passport to the possibility of having to say farewell forever to my old passport. You are supposed to get your old passport back after renewing, but I have heard from far too many friends that this is not always the case, especially if the post office sent my document to Peoria rather then Philadelphia. I considered claiming it was lost so I would not have to risk losing my original passport but knew this was a surefire way of landing on the FAA “suspicious persons” list. So I did what any other obsessive compulsive person would do; scanned all my passport pages onto photo paper as a souvenir, kissed the book goodbye and mailed it priority on the fifth of October.

I am happy to report that I experienced a joy not often felt by those dealing with government run agencies when retrieving my mail on October 18th; my new passport arrived a mere 13 days after I mailed it and my old passport arrived the very next day. Between the reported delays and my being too cheap to pay the expedited fee, I fully expected the process to take at least 3 months. I had dreams of lost opportunities to jet off to warm Caribbean islands in January because I was still passport-less. With my brand spanking new passport I am free to move about the world but now to the untrained eye I look like an amateur traveler; the blank book a false indication that life has yet to take me to the corners of the globe. My first passport displayed an interesting mix of locations; Russia, Thailand, Australia and New Zealand among my many stamps. A certain feeling of pride came each time a border agent inspected my passport and questioned my past travel and now I have to start from scratch again.

Rather then view this new passport with sadness at the vacant pages, I am trying to be more positive, looking at this new book as an open canvas; each trip a new brushstroke on a priceless masterpiece that takes ten years to complete. This new book will be the second in a series as I build my passport anthology. Will this new passport, a reflection of my thirties, be as beautiful and exciting as the work of art created in my twenties? I have ten years to make it so…