Lifehacking with Joanie

“I’m becoming Mom!” my sister C often observes about herself, wryly and without the abject horror I feel when considering the same possibility. Carolyn seems to be fine with her perceived growing resemblance to our mother, whereas I reject any thoughts along those lines. Not to say Joanie wasn’t really sweet and lovable; she certainly was. And I don’t mind (I guess) inheriting Mom’s penchant for uttering frequent endearments to family and friends. At least I’m not at the point (yet) where I call random cashiers and bank tellers “honey” the way Joanie did. But I refuse to accept the idea that I will eventually become as sloppy and needy and scatterbrained as Mom, that I will start watching Doctor Phil, volume all the way up, and rereading the same “tell all” books about the Kennedy family. If I’m sliding in that direction, by the way, you all have my permission to stage an intervention. 

I do acknowledge one area of shared passionate interest, however. Like Joanie before me, I am a huge fan of “tips and tricks,” whether it be turning a sugar cone into a cornucopia (it involves heating one end of the cone and curling it up before it cools-and yes, it’s not worth the effort if you are making these for small children, and who else would you make these for?) or getting ink out of a white sweater (rubbing alcohol! Smelly but miraculous!). I find myself saving a vast assortment of these life hacks—and, as I recall, so did Mom. Now, Mom and I had very different methods of keeping track: I have a special folder on my computer, whereas she would just grab a pencil and scribble on any available surface. After she wrote down this Surprising Use for Baking Soda on the front page of her wedding Bible, she rarely referred to it (tip OR Testament) again. 

Mom’s goal wasn’t unlocking the Secrets of the Universe, just the thrill of finding quick and clever workarounds involving everyday activities. While I think of myself as having loftier intellectual pursuits, I confess that viewing the glorious images of the galaxies from the Hubble telescope, and discovering how to chop onions without tears, hold equal fascination for me. Brighten the Corner Where You Are is my motto, I guess, especially now when our corners are so very limited.

Joanie has been in Heaven quite a while (14 years this Tuesday!) and I’m sure by now she knows everything there ever was to know. I do wonder, though, if she’s a bit disappointed that her quest for info is over. There’s a special kind of satisfaction that comes from learning something new and handy—even if that something is only the fact that you can use peppermint oil on a cotton ball to repel mice (it’s true!) I am hopeful that, even in Paradise, there are still opportunities for learning and growth—and, in Mom’s case, a few more Baking Soda Surprises to keep things interesting. 

The Zoom Where it Happens

Lucky for them I was in the audience!

OK, gang, I admit it. I’m nervous. 

On Tuesday night September 22nd at 7:30 PM (EDT, clear your calendar!) I will be telling a story at a virtual event, part of the Philadelphia Fringe Festival. It’s produced by First Person Arts; the theme for the evening is “Mother of Invention.” There will be just five of us performers, plus a visual artist who has received synopses of our pieces and will be displaying artwork that relates to our subject matter. As none of my writing has ever inspired a painting or sculpture, not even a doodle, I am eager to see what work is paired with my presentation. I am eager also to hear my fellow storytellers. I am, mostly, eager to get to 9:00 PM (EDT) when I can relax. The winner of the story slam gets a cash prize, but I’m not spending it yet, believe me. I’m scheduled to go first in the lineup (not traditionally the prime spot), and judging from their bios my competition is a talented bunch. So winning, while a delightful possibility, is not what I’m expecting. 

I am no stranger to the slam, but never have I been a slammer (only a slam-ee). I usually sit in the audience, filled with anxiety for the person on stage. Even when the performer seems super confident, I worry as if I was their mother. Will they “go up” (forget their lines)? I haven’t done this often over the years, but I vividly recall the sheer panic of the suddenly blank mind. I try to send out wordless vibes of encouragement, and only breathe easy when their tale is through. These evenings of “entertainment” are exhausting, because on some level I believe it is only my laser focus that keeps everything from falling apart. This hubris (foolishness? ) extends even to Broadway shows. Surely the cast of Hamilton does not need me to pull them through at this point! But…what if they do? Why chance it? 

Tuesday night will be the closest I’ve come to doing standup (even though I will be sitting down, but you get the point). The plus is that I won’t hear chatter or, worse, heckling. The minus is…I won’t hear anything. No laughter, no applause, which make such a difference to a performer. I now know why the televised baseball games in this Time of Covid have piped in crowd noise. It is pretty ridiculous, but it probably does help the players a little. Honestly, I’d rather have a canned laugh track respond to my jokes than the sounds of silence—even if it’s the same old track that’s been making the rounds since I Love Lucy. 

The producers sent out a list of ways to optimize our video presence (no lighting from behind! Don’t wear busy prints!) and I’m memorizing every tip. So please join me on Tuesday. I’ll be the one going first, front lit, not wearing plaid. Laugh loudly--I'll feel it from a distance! Thanks in advance!!

Hail Rex!

I am not acquainted with many people named Rex, and up until now, none personally. There’s Rex Harrison, Rex Tillerson, and Rex Morgan, M.D. (do comic strips count?) And of course Tyrannosaurus Rex. I know Rex in Latin means “king” and I think it’s a dandy name that should definitely be more popular than it is.

Well, last weekend I got to speak with an actual Rex. While I don’t know his last name, or really much about him, I feel as if I have a new friend. Rex works in a call center for Orbitz, and from the time difference and his accent I’m gathering it’s in India. Poor Rex was on the receiving end of the closest I ever get to a telephone tirade when first we connected on Sunday. I’d already been emailing Orbitz, and had been the phone several times with Aer Lingus and American Express, trying to figure out why, while our flights to Europe had been canceled, we were only reimbursed for ONE of the two tickets purchased. By the time I made it through the vast maze of extensions, and was on hold more than an hour, my mood had darkened considerably.

 

However, my snarling did nothing to dampen Rex’s pleasant manner. After hearing my tale of woe, he told me that Orbitz needed a letter from Amex saying that I had never disputed the plane ticket charge. Aer Lingus was apparently under the impression that I had, and marked the ticket “suspended” and un-reimbursable. “I understand your frustration!” Rex said (many times). “We will work this out!” Later in the convo he added, “I am sympathetic, both as an Orbitz representative and also as a traveler myself!”

 

Hours later, Rex and I hadn’t gotten very far. Aer Lingus wouldn’t budge without a document from the credit card company; Amex has a policy to not write about something that never happened. What Simon the Amex Supervisor agreed to do, eventually, was to participate in a conference call that I could set up, and he would tell Orbitz verbally that Aer Lingus had erred (aered?). You can imagine my dexterity in figuring out a conference call on an iPhone. Rex loyally stayed on the line as I tried and tried vainly to reach a real person at the other two phone numbers. By then, honestly, I was tempted to give up. But $880 is a lot of money for me, and represents quite a few writing assignment fees. Plus by now, Rex was nearly as committed as I was.

 

I wish I could say that all is resolved, but there are still more hoops to jump through. I am optimistic, however, and grateful to my chipper call center buddy for restoring my faith in humanity. He even called me the next morning to check in! It’s amazing what a little kindness will do in a situation like this.

 

Wherever you are, Rex, I salute you! Keep on keeping on, and I will too.

SO much paperwork!!!

 

 

 

  

Ex Files

  

I have no old boyfriends. Steve was my one and only serious relationship, begun at the tender age of 16. I don’t honestly regret this situation, any more than I regret never going away to college—those rites of passage just weren’t in the cards for me. As a result, though, I’ve been very interested in these milestones for my kids. To me, it was important that they have a college experience. It was important that they have time living on their own. And yes, I’ve always felt that dating several people before settling down is generally a good thing.

 

However, I came to love most of my offspring’s special guys and gals. Which means, my heart has been broken numerous times over the years (often feeling more grief than the actual relationship participants) when the breakups come. Rose wisely keeps her dates under wraps, because she knows her mother. I anticipate meeting her fiancé the day of the wedding--if then. As for the rest of my brood, I’ve gotten to know many significant others, from puppy love to super-serious. I’ve served them countless dinners at our house and exchanged birthday and Christmas gifts and had them down to the beach. In several cases, I’ve become friendly with their parents as well.

 

And it isn’t that I want every one of them to march down the aisle just because I think their boyfriend/girlfriend is swell. I realize that feelings can ebb and flow, that sometimes my kids are the ones initiating the parting and sometimes vice-versa. And when those sad events occur, I am always available as Shoulder to Cry On, ready with the Kleenex during those tearful rehashes of what went wrong. Soon enough, my son or daughter moves on, which is totally normal. I just wish I could move on as quickly, but it takes me much more time.

 

Sheridan had ended a fairly long-term relationship with violinist Quan before he met Ya-Jhu, and I’m now super glad he was single when the love of his life came along. Evan had the same sweet girlfriend Kate throughout his Naval Academy years; I still keep up with her on Facebook. Julie and Stephen were together for several years on and off. Again, thankfully, she was available when Gil arrived on the scene. So deep down I believe things tend to work out for the best.

 

Patrick’s five year relationship with Meg ended just as the pandemic began. All of us think the world of her, and are grateful for the years she made our son so happy. Pat and Meg are both moving on, which is healthy, but there is a Meg-shaped hole in current family photos. This feeling will pass in time I’m sure, as I prepare to welcome the next young woman into our world, whenever that may be.

I wish all the exes well. Our kids are better people for having had them in their lives.

 

Now excuse me while I go get a tissue.

Rose on phone, NOT telling me about her date