Wabash College - Today

You may remember that my husband, Ken, went to Wabash College, a very small (less than one thousand students) all male college located in tiny (in the middle of nowhere) Crawfordsville, Indiana.

I like to kid around about how the Wabash number one rule is "No Women Allowed."

But, actually, the only rule is "The Gentleman's Rule."

The student is expected to conduct himself at all times, both on and off campus, as a gentleman. 

Who in the world would want to attend this college?  Yesterday I received the current Class Agents Letter for 1955, the year Ken graduated.  As I've told you before, my existence was never acknowledged until Ken died.  Then I started getting the mail.  Until I married Dave.  Now he gets most of it.  (No, he did not attend Wabash.)

Anyway, I was impressed with the following quote from the letter, which answers the question, "Who in the world would want to attend this college?"

...an incoming (2012) class of young men, numbering 260 selected out of 1500 applicants...Among the group were 52 legacies, including 21 whose fathers attended Wabash and 17 whose brothers likewise attended.  The class represents 21 states and five foreign countries.  There were 52 Eagle Scouts, 31 who attended Boys State, 55 student government officers and 38 who acted or performed in high school and community theaters. 

A member of the class was a circus performer, another traveled internationally in Europe playing in an orchestra...another competed in equestrian events throughout the country, and one is a race horse trainer.  One was a TV weatherman, and one a professional model, and another decorated cadet commander of the Civil Air Patrol.   

So there you have it.  It says volumes about the college as well as the students.  Not to mention how difficult it must be to get into a fine college these days - even with excellent grades.

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Oh, How the Mighty One Has Fallen

Dave and I have the good fortune to work out at RDV Sportsplex.  RDV stands for Rich DeVos, owner of the Orlando Magic.

In case you haven't heard, we used to have this player on the Magic named Dwight Howard.  We loved him and he loved us.

But then - Trouble in Paradise!  Dwight fell out of love with us.  We cried and carried on but in the end he left us for the (apparently much younger and better looking) Los Angles Lakers.

We're still holding a grudge.

Used to be you could buy  Dwight Howard Magic shirts in the clothing shop at the RDV.  They came in two styles, one was $55.  The other was $85.

I took the photo this morning.  The shirts are still for sale.  What a bargain.  But nobody's buying.


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We've Been Voting for 92 Years!

Yesterday, August 26th, was the 92nd anniversary of the signing of the Amendment to the Constitution granting women the right to vote.

Dave and I celebrated by going to a friend's home to meet our candidate for District 30 of the Florida House of Representatives.  We were there on a rainy Sunday afternoon along with 30 or so other folks, men and women,  who are serious about wanting what's best for Florida.

The candidate's name is Karen Castor Dentel.  She's a teacher and is passionate about education.  While you might not think this is a wide enough  background for elected office, Karen comes from public service aristocracy.

Her mother, Better Castor was in the Florida Senate for many years and was the State Education Commissioner.  Karen's sister, Kathy, is currently a Florida Congresswoman.  Her brother, Frank, is a sitting judge and her dad, Don, is a retired judge.

I liked Karen's mom and I like Karen.

But I'm not suggesting that you should like Karen because I do or because she's a woman.  Look her up.  And look up her opponent, Scott Plakon.  He's a high profile, very conservative Tea Party guy.  It's a clear choice if you do a little homework.

I was with a friend just before the primaries who told me that she couldn't vote until her husband came home because he knew about that stuff and she didn't.  How sad for all those women - and men - who sacrificed to get us this precious right to vote.

While you most likely don't live in District 30 or even in Florida, it's time for all of us to get serious, get educated - and vote.


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Shared Memories

I'm reading a book I really like called "The Gift of Years."  You'll be hearing more about it as I read further - but in the meantime I'll share just this one thought.

The author, Joan Chittister, in discussing the concept of actually remembering history, in addition to reading about it, deals with how important it is for those of us who are older to share our memories.  She gives this example:

The historical memory of a group says, no, going into World War II and the invasion of Vietnam were not the same thing.  You may support both if you want to, but don't think of them as equal.  

On a much lighter note I was thinking the other day about the death of Phyllis Diller. (Not that death is light.) As you know, I admire stand up comics.  It's very hard work.  Diller was an extremely unattractive (in her view), broke, mother of five children when she first went on the road at age 37.  She died last week  in her sleep at age 95 after a successful, varied career that spanned many decades and one that any entertainer would envy.

Even after her many surgeries to enhance her looks she made self deprecating jokes like -

I was the world's ugliest baby.  When I was born the doctor slapped everybody.

In 1959 I was a teenager and totally on my own.  I worked at U.S. Steel in downtown Indianapolis during the day and went to business college three nights a week.  But, occasionally, my roommate, Joan, and I would treat ourselves by having stuffed baked potatoes at a little diner on the way home from work.  The building where the diner was located had a rundown night club on the other side.  Several times, Phyllis Diller came through the diner on the way to do her act.  She was bizarre looking.  But she stopped to talk with each and every person in the diner.  My memory of her is very clear.

Who would ever have thought, when we were in that little diner together in 1959, that Phyllis Diller would have an astoundingly successful life.  And who would ever have thought that I would end up having my big life - with the best part of it, in many ways,  happening right now.

I'm grateful for my historic memory.


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Eames Chair Revisited

On February 21st I wrote a tragic blog posting called "The Eames Chair Saga" about how I broke Dave's Eames Chair.  In half!

As you may remember, Dave bought his chair in the 70s.  It's an icon and rock star of chairs among architects and others.

The Herman Miller Store is the place to buy Eames Chairs and, apparently, the only place to have them repaired.  Fortunately, there is an outlet around 30 miles from our place.  We took the chair to the outlet.  They, in turn, ordered a new shell from the Herman Miller Headquarters in Zeland, Michigan.  The chair was then reassembled. - good as new.  I hope!

This process took only two - maybe three - months.

Anyway, here it is.  As you can see, Dave is reading the Steve Jobs book.  Jobs was a complex man who helped change the world for the better but also had some disturbing personal habits (like not wearing shoes.)

But, to Jobs' credit, Dave's discovered, in reading the book, that Steve Jobs also loved his Eames Chair.

Here's a photo, from the book, of Steve and his (sometimes) buddy Bill Gates sitting in Steve's living room.  As you can see, Steve Jobs had very little furniture.  He's sitting in his Eames chair.  Bill's sitting on the ottoman.

I wonder how many psychologists have tried to analyze this photo.


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First Day of School

Some of my grandchildren will be starting school on Monday.  Exciting times!  As you know, I love new beginnings.

Did you ever wish that, when you were a little kid, you could give a speech on the first day of school, telling everybody who you are?

Last Sunday my minister, preaching about how wondrously God made us, asked for some assistance from a twelve year old church member named Izzy.  Izzy has been giving First Day of School speeches since she was six.

Izzy was born with Ectodermal Dysplasia, a condition that halted the development of most of her fingers, teeth and toes.  In preschool the other kids asked so many questions that, when Izzy started to first grade, she wanted to give a speech about her condition, thereby making her and all of the other kids feel welcome and comfortable with who they are.

So she did.  And then she wrote a book!

It's called, "First Day Speech."  It's about a little boy named Nathan going off to his first day of school. It's  published by Wild Onion Press, a publishing company that specializes in books staring kids with physical differences.  Izzy's book is the winner of the Grace McClelland Prize because it exemplifies what this publishing house is all about.  

But everybody who reads this book will be blessed.  Because, don't we all have physical differences?

Izzy blessed all of us in church last Sunday by giving us her First Day Speech.  She's a beautiful young woman and, I understand, a ferocious soccer player.


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Hope Springs

I wasn't sure that Tommy Lee Jones and Meryl Streep could pull off this movie but....

Hope Springs!

Street, 63 and Jones, 65, play a couple who've been married 30 years and are just going through the motions.  Their routine is like Bill Murray's "Ground Hog's Day."  Every day's the same.

Meryl wants more.  She finagles them to a sex therapist played by Steve Carell.  By the way, I love all three of these actors.  This movie just seemed a little light weight for Streep and Jones.

Meryl is lonely and wants more intimacy in her marriage.  Tommy Lee doesn't know it but he feels the same only it comes out looking bored.

OK, here's the problem as I see it.  There's a big difference between intimacy and sex.  In other words, you can have lots of sex with no intimacy and you can have intimacy with no sex.  But if you get the combination right, everybody wins.

Some of Steve, the sex therapist, advice was OK.  Some of it, I thought was terrible.  The scene in the movie theater was just sad and embarrassing.  I would have encouraged them to have some times of real  intimacy without the threat of being arrested.

Real intimacy can lead to couples really, really wanting to have sex.

Tommy had the better idea when he, the tightwad that he was, went to great lengths to set up dinner and a night in a romantic hotel.  And I'd like to say to Meryl's character that she shouldn't have taken the fact that it didn't work out personally.  Those things happen.

Meryl had that same quirky, embarrassed laugh that she's used in some other movies.  Not attractive.  If I'd been Steve, I would have said, "Lose the laugh."

"Hope Springs" has its moments.  But, over all, I was disappointed.

As a personal aside, get a load of Steve Carell's  Eames Chair.


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Mohawk Guy and Elvis

A week before Sunday, Bobak Ferdowsi and Adam Stelzner (otherwise known as Mohawk Guy and Elvis)  along with their team, successfully  landed the Mars Science Laboratory on the planet Mars.

It was a big deal.  Remember them anticipating the "seven minutes of terror?"

But what's going viral is their hair cuts.

Bobak, the flight director, has the Mohawk.  Apparently, he changes hair styles withe each landing.  Adam has the Elvis "do."

This last Saturday morning these two guys were contestants on NPR's  game show, "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me."  They were, of course, smart, but also funny and self effacing.

The 32 year old flight director Bobak the Mohawk Guy is the one getting all the press, not to mention multiple marriage proposals via Twrtter, but I was more interested in Adam (Elvis) in the NPR interview.

Not too many years ago Adam was a high school drop out.  He was a Rock 'n Roll guy.  But he found himself being fascinated with how the stars looked different traveling to his gigs than they did driving home.

The rest is history.

Bobak will continue as a director at NASA.  Adam's job is finished.  When Peter Sagal asked him what he might be doing in the future he said he might need a sign saying "Will land on Mars for Food."

By the way, the game questions for these guys on "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me," had to do with Mars - Mars the candy bar company.  They won.


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My Friend John Mica

Some Saturday mornings I have breakfast with John Mica. Well, not with him exactly, but in the same room.  He regularly has breakfast in Panera's with his lovely wife, Pat.

As you know, I'm proud of the Winter Park folks who let celebrities "just  be" in public.  But this morning John Mica made a point of talkin' with the folks.

Because, for the first time in as long as I can remember, Mica's in trouble.

I've been following John Mica's career for over 30 years.   He's a much admired congressman from Winter Park, Florida.

He's been a hard working member of congress and has been able to get tons of things done over the years.  Unfortunately, some of what he's done I haven't admired.  We're not in the same party so have some different views.  But, for many of his accomplishments,  I'm very grateful.

In fact, for much of what he's accomplished, he's had to work across party lines.  I think this is essential for all of our elected folks in Washington.

But, Mica's fighting for his seat.  Due to once in a decade redistricting, he's locked in a fight with freshman Sandy Adams.

I know he's guilty of doing one of the things she's charging against him:  Working with Democrats.

He is a rank-and-file, "let's compromise where we can and make this happen"  kind of guy.  She is a Tea Party gal.

Here's a photo, taken many years ago, of John Mica working with a Democrat.


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Goodbye to Another Old Friend

I just heard this morning about another old friend dying.  His name was Ralph Houston and he was 91 years old.  I haven't seen him in a few years but the last time I saw him he made me laugh.  He had a great sense of humor.

I want to share a funny story about Ralph.  But I need to preface it by telling you that he was a Methodist minister.  Now ministers and funeral home directors have a secret.  Many times, after a funeral, the family, overwhelmed by the massive bouquets of flowers, will say either to the minister, but mostly to the funeral director.  "We don't want these flowers.  You do something with them."  As you can imagine, this can get to be a bit of a burden for these two professional groups.

This is another reason, when a loved one dies, you should direct folks to give money to something meaningful  to you or the deceased.  FYI - there is an endowed scholarship at Bethune-Cookman University in memory of my husband, Ken - started with seed money given in lieu of flowers at his memorial service. 

Now, back to Ralph.  Many years ago he was a patient in the hospital and had a roommate who was very ill.  The roommate, who was in and out of consciousness, was a funeral director.

On the day Ralph was discharged, his side of the room was covered with flowers.  So Ralph went over to the  seemingly comatose funeral director and whispered in his ear,

"I don't want these flowers.  Would you mind doing something with them?"

He got a little smile from the funeral director.

Goodbye, Ralph.  Lots of folks will miss, among other things, your wonderful sense of humor.


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Lifestyle Outsourcing

We know that boomers are nervous about retiring because they're afraid they won't have the funds to perpetuate their current lifestyles.

Dave and I live a pretty simple life.  We like it that way.  We live in a small, easy to maintain space.  Sometimes I think about outsourcing the window washing or other stuff we don't like to do but - so far - we haven't had a need.  And housework is great exercise.

I'm aware that five of our collective six kids outsource a lot.  And I'm all for it.  They all work extremely hard.  Unless they love it, cutting the grass or deep cleaning the house would be silly.  And would deprive someone who needs that job.

But today's paper has an article about how average folks are outsourcing that kind of blew me away.  ''

Here are a few:

Nameologist - We hire this person to name our kids.  My mother was one of the youngest of 13 children.  Her name was Carmen.  So my grandma was still coming up with some good ones right to the end.

Wantologist - This person tells you what you really want when you're not sure.  I would be so bad this.  But I'm good at telling folks what they don't want.  And, especially, what they don't need.  Unfortunately, I can't get anybody to listen to me.

Baby Specialist - For instance, you can hire somebody to teach your baby to sleep through the night.  But you must hire another specialist to get the baby to stay awake during the day.

Camp Consultant - This person finds just the right summer camp for each of your children.  My kids had a choice of three:  Church, YMCA, Scouts.

Rent a Friend - You can hire a person to see a movie or have dinner or take a trip with you.  It's much better  than a real friend because you don't have to even pretend to care anything about them.  It's all about you.

Kid's Party Planner - In some areas of the country you are ostracized if you try to take on this task yourself.

In the 1970s one of the poems in a little poetry book I wrote addressed the emerging kid's party protocol.  It's printed below.  By the way, I recently saw a copy of the book on sale on the Internet for $34.  Don't buy it!  For $34.00 I will come over and read the poetry to you myself.  And I'll tell you what you don't want for free.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU - YOU LIVE IN A ZOO

Happy birthday darling,
Here's to the full life you'll live, 
It's time for your lesson in ripping off, 
Your family,
Every friend
And relative. 

Never mind the joy of having,
People who love you around, 
"Just keep those checks and gifts
    coming in, 
You can measure their love by the pound. 

Be sure mommy has a big party,
And invites friends and enemies alike,
And maybe she'll hire a clown this time,
Or a monkey who rides on a bike. 

Remind her, her reputation's at stake
If she "cops out" she'll look like a leech, 
Can she top Georgie Brewster's party last month,
With the helicopters rides to the beach?

I know that they've taught you in Sunday School,
That love and charity are real, '
But it's time that you learned the truth dear child,
All of life is "Let's Make a Deal."


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Passion for Work

Back in the 70s when I was first doing consulting work and the "Should Women Work Outside the Home?" issue was raging, I was occasionally asked the question:

Do you think all women should work?

My answer was always the same:

Yes!

I think everybody should work.  From toddlers to hospice patients.  Why?  It's fulfilling.  It makes us know that we're on this earth for a reason.  But my definition of "work" differs from some others.

A toddler who picks up five of his toys or delivers to mom a package of diaper wipes for changing the new baby (he's not sure about)  has done a job.  A job that makes him feel empowered.

When an old woman in the hospital asks every person who visits, professional or friend, "How are you doing today"- and listens to the answer, she has worked.  She's done her job.

I've been reading about the army of volunteers at the Olympics.  Many of them have taken time off work, traveled at their own expense to London, and most days are rain soaked and sleep deprived.  Why do they do it?  It's fulfilling.  It gives them great meaning to be involved in something bigger than themselves.

Getting paid for the work we do is necessary to survive.  But it's not necessary to fulfill a passion for work.  In fact, many folks find more meaning in their avocations than their vocations.

I am surrounded by friends who do magnificent work.  They inspire me daily.

But I'll share this cameo of a couple who have been  only on the periphery of my life for the past 30 plus years.  I don't know them well but I, along with hundreds of others, know lots about them. The photo is from the cover of Central Florida's 50 Plus Lifestyle Guide, "50 Plus FYI."

Thad and Polly Seymour came to Winter Park Florida in 1978.  Thad had been president of Wabash College in Indiana before coming to Winter Park to be president of Rollins College.  Both highly credentialed and with highly credentialed children and grandchildren, they certainly deserve a rest. They've been "retired" for a very long time.

But what's most noteworthy about the Seymours is their life long volunteer work.  They're both legends in Central Florida for it.  In 1997 they were honored as Winter Park Citizens of the Year in recognition of the service to the community.

I don't know how old they are but they were married in 1948 so they have to be OLD.  But they're still at it.

The passion is still there.  They inspire me.


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Oliver!

Yesterday afternoon we went to the big Catholic church down the street to see this play.  A friend and former neighbor who had a small part invited us.

If you don't know Oliver!, it's the musical comedy version of Oliver Twist, an olde English kid who, along with other kids, is starved, beaten, sold into slavery, tossed into a coffin, thrown in with a bunch of thieves and, eventually, saved.

It's great fun!

Early on, when the kids are sharing their one and only daily meal - gruel - they sing:

Food, glorious food!
We're anxious to try it. 
Three banquets a day-
Our favorite diet!

The despicable but dopey funeral directors that poor Oliver gets sold to and who throw him the the coffin as punishment sing:

In the end we'll either burn you up or nail you down,
We love coughs and wheezes
And diseases called incurable. 
That's your funeral.
No one else's funeral

When Oliver gets saved by the Artful Dodger all the boys sing:

Consider yourself at home
Consider yourself one of the family
We've taken to you so strong
It's clear we're going to get along

But then Mr. Fagin sings:

In this life, one thing counts
In the bank, large amounts
I'm afraid these don't grow on trees
You've got to pick a pocket or two.

This church production of Oliver! was excellent.  It involved at least a hundred people.  Many of them were polished and talented performers.

So thanks to St. Mary Magdalen's C.A.S.T. Ministry and to Tom for inviting us.  If you'd like to see a sweet funny musical about adorable, starving and beaten up little kids, see Oliver!  And see it in church.

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John Irving Books

John Irving was, at one time, my favorite writer.  "The World According to Garp" and "A Prayer for Owen Meany" were potentially life changing for me.

And "The Cider House Rules" is the best thing I've ever read on the subject of abortion.  It's when I came to realize that two of the saddest things in the world are women who want a babies and can't have them and women who are having babies they don't want.

A few days ago I read that John Irving has a new book coming out called "In One Person."  As usual, it is controversial.  I'd like to read it sometime but with my new pledge to not buy books for pleasure I'll have to wait until it hits the library.

But thinking about Irving, I headed for my neighborhood library and picked up a book he'd written in 2001 called "The Fourth Hand."  At 313 pages, it's much shorter than his other books. I'd never heard of it so I didn't know what to anticipate.

First off, I didn't learn anything.  I didn't come away with any deep insights the way I usually do with his books, just another reminder that people can change.  But I loved every word of it.  When I finished it this morning I was sad that I had to stop reading.

It's about a self centered, womanizing journalist who gets his hand chomped off by a circus lion in India.  He eventually gets his life turned around after a failed hand transplant (among other things) and the very last part of the book is a sweet love story.  However, be informed that this book is loaded with sex the way every one of his books is loaded with sex.

It's John Irving's edgy writing style that I love.  If you've not read him, this might be a good book for you to see if you'd be willing to tackle his heavier works.


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