Name Game

From most recent pictorial directory, 1993! Julie wasn't even born yet! And who are Alex and Maureen?

There’s a nice guy at church that I have said hello to for years. It is far too late in the game to ask his name, and I’m so bad at describing people that none of my church friends can picture him (he’s, you know, average height, brownish hair, wears glasses-wait, maybe not). It’s really bothered me, because I pride myself on knowing all of our members’ names. I long for the days of our old pictorial directories. As newbies, we used to come home from services and pore over all the pictures, resulting in weekly “eureka” moments (Oh, so THAT’s Edna Boyer! NOT Carol Gehlhaus!)

Christ’s at some point decided to stop hiring the photography studio that would come to church, take our photos, then pressure us to buy them (in 8"X10” glossy form and wallet-size too!) As I never cared for our official family pix (at least one of the kids always had eyes closed, or mouth agape, or hair disordered), I resisted temptation, but I understood that the big sales pitch bugged people. So the church went to just a printed listing of names, addresses and phone numbers, which doesn’t offer a clue about the looks of folks. Every few years, a congregant with a decent camera would be asked to take all of our photos, for a directory that then never materialized.

Well, today I succeeded at last in identifying Mystery Man. Having eliminated 90% of the names in the book, and having a vague memory of his first name beginning with “R,” I started checking out all the “R” names from the directory on Facebook. Lo and behold, there he was! With a photo to prove I had the right guy! Now that my quest is over, I’m not sure what I will do with all the hours I was spending on my hunt for his I.D. But it is a relief to know. Can’t wait for next Sunday, when I can run up to him and greet him by name! Hope he shows up!

Maybe I’m super sensitive to being called by the right name because people so often get mine wrong. A former employer used to call me Elaine (and I didn’t want to embarrass him by correcting him, so I would answer to it, which didn’t help at all). As for “Seyfried”-forget it! The odds of pronouncing it properly are extremely poor.

And another thing, while we’re on the subject—I really hate it when people forget they have already met me SEVERAL times. Again, do I ever inform them of their error? Nope, I just tell them how glad I am to meet them (again). Now, I know I’m not a celeb, but after the fourth or fifth intro you’d think I would ring a bell, right?

Bottom line, we each yearn to be known (it’s a fundamental need). So let’s all really try to get each other’s names straight! If we can do that, world peace is all but guaranteedJ

Wouldn't life be simpler if we all wore one? 

In the Bag

the large and the small of it

I usually carry about $20. I have gotten out of the habit of using cash, because nearly everything can now be paid for by credit card. And speaking of credit cards, I only use two, which should make life pretty simple. With my driver’s license and health insurance card, I have all I need to function as a motor vehicle operator, a consumer, and someone who might suddenly end up in the ER, right?

So why have I been carting a Really Significant Bag everywhere with me? Well, because it isn’t just “purse-y” things that I keep in that cavernous leather carry-all. My laptop, planner, journal, Kindle, phone, and various chargers also occupy a good bit of space. I walk to work now many mornings, and have been having pain in my right hip as I march along. Turns out, my discomfort stems from the fact that my gargantuan tote bag is slung over my LEFT shoulder (go figure). As soon as I put the bag down, bye bye pain! But the twinges do remind me that I am not a beast of burden, and I need to watch it before I really injure myself.

Recently, I came up with what I thought was a splendid idea: when only running an errand or two, I decided to leave Monster Purse at home. Instead, I crammed my quarters and nickels and I.D. into a tiny woven zippered purse I got in Guatemala years ago. Light as a feather, it seemed to be all I needed at those moments. At the supermarket, I’d drop it into my reusable cloth grocery bag, to be fished out at checkout time.

But there’s a problem with my new system: I keep losing track of the change purse! It’s been left on store counters, fallen behind furniture, and slipped under the front seat of the Hyundai. More than once I have frantically searched, only to discover it still inside one of those grocery bags. I’m coming to realize—it’s just not quite big enough.

Well, well, Goldilocks, I say to myself. One is too big, one is too small. Where is my just-right bag? One that can hold my sunglasses, tissues, keys and breath mints, without the extra storage space that tempts me to also bring along the Encyclopedia Brittanica?

Knowing me and my habits, that perfect receptacle does not exist. Whatever I use will always be packed to the gills with all manner of flotsam and jetsam. I’ll either be lugging the contents of my house in my huge carrier, or misplacing my inadequate little Guatemalan souvenir.

Big or small, however, my bags all swallow whatever I need most, spitting out my pedicure punch card instead of my Amex, my gas receipt instead of my paycheck. It’s as if they are in cahoots, teaming up to drive me crazy!

I think the next step for me is pockets. Lots and lots and lots of pockets.

And if I look a little lumpy, so be it.

The Purse Song

Tell (Almost) All

My teacher!

The average person keeps 13 secrets, five of which they have never told anyone. Come up with three of your secrets to write about.

That was the first homework assignment in my personal essay class. Last July, I decided to actually get a little writing training. This decision was part and parcel of the annual Summer Betterment Program that I undertake at the shore. I return home accomplished, refreshed—and completely unable to replicate my regimen until the following summer.

Anyway, I figured an online course was my best option. I found a six week class on personal essays and so, one Tuesday at 5 PM, I logged on to the website. But when I attempted to join the class, no one was there! I soon discovered my miscalculation. The course was being taught from San Francisco, where their 5 PM is my 8 PM. My classes were going to run two hours, ending at 10 at night! For me, that might as well have been 1-3 AM, as I am almost always tucked into beddy bye long before 10 PM.

Somehow I managed to stay awake, and (virtually) met my instructor, Kalle, who teaches at Columbia, and my fellow students. The “secrets” assignment felt like a plunge off the high dive for me, but my classmates seemed to have no problem baring their souls. What are the safest, most innocuous secrets I keep? I wrote THOSE down (as a child, I used to pour orange juice on my cornflakes because of my milk allergy). I knew that was not exactly in the spirit of the class, so I tried to dig deeper, finally settling on my troubled relationship with my mom towards the end of her life.

New Tool for the Kit!

 By Class #3 we all had a draft of our stories written. We were each given about 8 minutes of class time weekly to discuss our pieces and get feedback. I enjoyed this part, and really liked the other writers’ work. The final weeks focused on selling our essays to major publications. We had to find the editors of our top five targets and be ready to submit our finished work. And so it was that I sent “My Bipolar, Mom’s Dementia, and How We Lost Each Other” to The New York Times (aim high, right?)

I’d love to report an immediate, enthusiastic response from The Times, but here it is November and nary a peep. So I have chalked that one off, and sent to my next target publication, Vox First Person. If that is also a “no” I have three other prospects, so I’m not too discouraged (yet). I realize that these outlets get hundreds and hundreds of submissions. I just hope my little essay will appeal to SOMEONE out there, and get published.

Was it worth it? Most definitely. I now have lots more tools in my writing kit, which I can and will use going forward. Would I ever take another online class?

Only in my time zone.