Tuesday, April 30, 2013

Who done it??


 
 
Funny how a comment can send you on a quest; that’s what happened to me last week.

I was talking with a woman in my office whom I consider to be a talented photographer and writer.  She commented that sometimes she looks at something she has written and wonders, ‘who wrote that mushy stuff; where did that come from?’   She went on to say that sometimes she feels there is someone ‘in there’ doing the writing.



That struck a chord in me because I have a good friend who….well, let’s say she doesn’t care for my blog.  She says it’s sappy and that I am much wittier and more caustic than the things I write.   I can’t guarantee I’m any funnier in person, but I know I have a sarcastic bent that may not come off in my writings.   I’ve also written things that I would not, likely could not, put into words and wondered where it came from.

As the editor of Heart of Ohio Magazine it’s been my good luck to get to know Barb Haller; she is now a contributing columnist for us.  I wrote her to ask if she ever feels that her writing is somehow different from the person others seem to perceive her to be.   Her response was that she believes writers access and reveal a deeper part of themselves through their work.  Writing helps her sort out her thoughts and feelings.  She says she, too, has experienced a “who’s that?” when she reads something she wrote because it often reflects deeper things than day to day life.

Now my interest was really piqued.  I called another friend, this time a male, and asked if he ever experienced this split between his every-day life and his writing.  He laughed, “Well, now that you mention it I often go back to read things I’ve written years before and wonder who in the heck put that in my file.  Sometimes my work can come off as stuffy and cerebral, and you know that’s not what I’m about!”

I’ve been writing this blog over a year and a half now; the magazine over four years.  I went back through old blog posts to see if any of them struck me as having been written by some ‘other’ personality.  Here’s what I’ve decided:

Writing is a very solitary and private thing.  In our day to day lives we interact with other people; their reactions, needs and expectations can change how we behave; even who we are.  Writing isn’t like that….writing doesn’t happen to anyone but the writer.  It seems to me that writing is the pure distillation of who we really are; if you cannot tap into that you’re not a writer.  When I write the product is pure “me” without anyone else’s input.   Even the creation of fiction is pure because the source of the material is right inside the writers head; processed and stretched and chiseled by no one but the author.  In its purest form writing is ones interaction with oneself.

I suppose in talking with other writers I’ve answered my own question.  The outer ‘me’ is who I am when I react to other people, demands and unavoidable daily stress.  The writer, the inner ‘me’, is who I am when left to explore my own thoughts and feelings.  I can only speak for me, but the only way for that inner person to be heard is to write….and so I do. 

                                                      Life is Good 

 

 

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

Sound the Alarm




Last week our burglar alarm at home went off; an event that brought me home from work and a nice, big deputy to my driveway.  Fortunately it was a false alarm; something needs to be replaced in the alarm system and that’s being done today.

If there is anything more unnerving than having a stranger go through your house, from top to bottom when you were not expecting company, I just don’t know what it might be.  As I waited in the kitchen (where the counter was littered with the remnants of breakfast) the deputy went through the other rooms that actually made the kitchen look tidy (honest officer, I was running late this morning).  I could have saved him the effort of checking the closets because not one of them would have had room for a burglar to hide in. (Just like Fibber McGhee, I always plan to clean out those closets) Actually, that spare bedroom has not been ransacked; that’s just the mess I made looking for a sweater this morning.  Oh…my…goodness!!



If you take the time to check it out in the dictionary, the definition of motivation is:  To give reason, incentive, enthusiasm or interest that causes a specific action or behavior.  To say that having this nice young man walk through my house was motivating would be an understatement.  The weekend arrived to find me motivated to clear the clutter and excess from the house.  I am thinking of it as my “less is more” awakening.

The weekend was a blur of me dumping dresser drawers, pulling things from closets and making trips to Goodwill.  I had not done this thorough a toss-out for quite some time, but the fear of being nominated for an episode of Hoarders kept me moving…or should I say ‘motivated’.

Clearing out a closet is rather like tearing pages from a scrapbook for me.  This is the dress I wore in Washington….here is a suit I bought on our trip to New Orleans….oh, I just can’t toss these sandals I bought in Florida (yes I can!)….ahhhhh, one of the children gave me this hand bag.   I could go on for pages, but suffice it to say I over came the voices in my head and kept tossing.

I wasn’t alone in my effort to get rid of stuff.  Larry was right in there cheering me on and dumping his own dresser drawers.  By the end of the day we were exhausted but feeling pretty good about all the clutter we had cleared away.  Next we’re taking on the basement and the garage; while that promises to be a much bigger project, I think we will make some real headway.  There just might be some usable and organized space in our future.

To think I owe this spring cleaning frenzy to a malfunctioning burglar alarm.  Go figure.  It’s probably just as well that I didn’t catch the name of the young officer who showed up in the driveway.  I’m pretty sure my husband would send him a thank you note if I had.   I just know if the alarm goes off again I will be sashaying through the house, whipping open closet doors like Vanna White introducing a vowel!

                                                                        Life is Good  

 

 

Thursday, April 18, 2013

To buy or not to buy.....









With the internet the whole world is at your fingertips, just waiting for a credit card number.  Baskets from the jungle, capri pants made from drapes from a castle in Germany, purses made by itinerant palm wavers in Istanbul.  It's all out there............

Two weeks ago I found myself tempted by a new on-line offering called FAB.  While I like to buy locally whenever I can, this was a problem solver I couldn't resist.  These folks had an iPad cover with a built in battery that was purported to extend the life of your iPad by up to 60%.  If, like me, you're an iPad addict you know the newest version eats battery life.  That beautiful screen clarity comes at a price; I found myself living at the end of the little white cord much too often.

The FAB ad showed up in my email one day when I was waiting for my iPad to charge....I sat drumming my fingers on the table as my impatience grew.  So I read the email and boy was I interested!   For only $45.00 I could have backup that would go with me.   I'm IN!!!

In just four working days my beautiful, supple, peddle leather finish tablet cover arrived;  I couldn't wait to charge it and tuck my iPad safely inside.  It's guaranteed to work with every model of iPad....what could possibly go wrong?

I freely admit to being a techo-klutz.  My knowledge is sketchy to say the least....but even I could tell these adaptors and plugs were not going to work.  I switched and pushed and tugged to no avail.  As I rummaged through the see though box for an adaptor that had no place to hide I realized I'd screwed up.....this cover works with every iPad on the planet except mine.

I read the packing invoice and at the bottom it was plainly marked "This is a final sale item".  Rats!!
I went into the "you got what you deserve for being dumb enough to buy from the internet" internal rant I can always count on.  When my inner demon finally ran out of vitriol I decided to write the internet company and explain my problem.  I'm not a great believer that customer service still exists anywhere in the world....but what the heck.

This was on a Sunday, but I went to the FAB website and finally found a "this is how you can get to us" button.  I wrote, explaining that I read the 'will work with any iPad' sentence and didn't realize I was the only person on the planet excluded.   Did I get the cover missing a plug?  Did something fall out of the box as it made it's way to me from someplace deep inside China?  What's up with this?

Actually, I was a little more formal, but not much.  Not thirty minutes later I got an email that said someone was working on my problem.  I got another follow up email from another person an hour later.  By Monday afternoon I got the following email from a FAB representative:

________________________________________________________________________________
                        _______________________________________________________
 
Hi Diana,

Thank you so much for your patient understanding. I truly wish I was the bearer of better news.

I just heard back about the status of the replacement for the defective item you received. My best understanding is that this specific Folio iPad Case is likely defective regarding your specific iPad generation. Unfortunately, there aren't enough of these designs available for us to get you a new one. I know this is a double whammy of bad news, and I'm so bummed it was a part of your Fab experience.

I'm really sorry that I couldn't come through for you on this one, and I still want to make sure you're taken care of. You should never pay for something that doesn't work - that would be such a rip off! I'm going to make sure you're issued a full refund of $45, back to your credit card. It may take 5-10 business days for the refund to appear on your card.

The case is yours to keep and do with as you see best. Perhaps a loved one with a different iPad could use it, or at the least, it could be donated. Whatever makes you happy.

I'm so upset that this design could not be replaced, and want the chance to show you a better experience in the future. I've added a $10 Fab credit to your account, to make you smile, and bring a bit of happiness into your day.

If there's anything else you need, I'm always here via email or at xxx.xxxx.xxxx and personally at your service.

Best,
 XXXXXX
Crackerjack
Fab
__________________________________________________________________________

                                 ________________________________________________
Can you imagine my surprise to get not just an answer....but a GOOD answer??  The folio will fit my older iPad just fine, and it is likely my own stupidity and inexperience that created the problem.  But these folks are willing to put their money where their mouth is and work to keep a customer.  I might add that I will be a good customer in the future because of this amazing service!

Since I never hesitate to express my dismay, I just wanted to share with you my surprise and delight at finding not just an innovative web-company but one that follows through and delivers! 

If you get the chance, go to FAB.com and check out all the original things they have for sale.  They certainly have my endorsement...............

                                                       Life is Good




Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Is Marcus Welby still taking patients?


I started the day at my doctor’s office.  It’s a regular thing.   Every six months I stop in and he tells me I’m doing fine.  Giving me way too much credit, he tells me the results of my blood work; I nod as if I actually understand what he’s talking about, then go home to complain about my aches and pains.  You know, the standard doctor’s appointment.  

Sitting there in the examining room this morning I waited quietly for my ten minutes with the good doctor.  Indulging my low threshold for boredom, I looked through gardening pictures I’d downloaded to my iPad and listened to conversations in the hallway.  It ebbed and flowed, discussions between the doctors, the doctors and their nurses, the nurses and the nurses and a doctor and a very hard of hearing patient in the next room.  It brought me to one glaring certainty….I am glad I’m not in the medical profession.

Growing up I wanted Marcus Welby to be our family doctor.  He had the most wonderful bedside manner, and he never seemed to hurt anyone.  Having a young James Brolin for a sidekick didn’t hurt anything, either.  Watching that show I knew I could never be a doctor….I was, after all, only a girl.  But I could be a nurse!  It was the next best thing, and I’d get to hang out with doctors like Marcus Welby and James Brolin.  Ah yes…..I would be a nurse.

I grew up telling people that I wanted to be a nurse, even did some prep work in high school for a nursing career.   Then my young heart fell in love, and it seemed the only thing my future needed in it was this tall young man named Larry. 

Yes…I traded my dreams of working with Marcus Welby for a husband and, eventually, three babies.  First there was a beautiful little boy who never slept and ate like a lumberjack.  He was followed by a sweet blonde baby girl who was the best baby in the world.  Before the ink was dry on that birth certificate we produced another little girl who screamed for the first three months of her life.   I realized after the birth of the third baby that I had accidently assumed my nursing career without any training and absolutely no credentials.   I also discovered a voice inside my head that kept repeating, “If I ever get these babies raised no one will ever throw up on me again.”   My dream of becoming a nurse died a miserable death as I tended my coughing, sneezing, ‘my tummy hurts’ little brood.

And so, all these years later, I found myself sitting in the examining room this morning listening to the real thing.  One doctor was trying to straighten out some blood work orders with a new nurse.  Their conversation faded away as two nurses stepped into my hearing range discussing a patient who was ‘hard to room’; the one offering to get the fellow into a room for the other, more reluctant, woman.   From the next room I could hear my own doctor clearly as he tried to explain to an elderly gentleman (obviously very hard of hearing) why it’s not good to put things into your ears.  Then everything was temporarily drowned out by a wailing infant that went by the door. 

Eventually a nurse came in, took my blood pressure and asked me some questions.  As she exited my doctor blew into the room, dropping heavily onto a rolling stool and exhaling as if he’d just slid into home plate. ( Funny, Marcus Welby never looked harried)  My family doctor is fiftyish with a boyish face that will serve him well for a lot of years; this morning he looked tired and frazzled.  Dealing with the complaints of however many people you can push through an office in eight hours as you take calls from other doctors, answer questions about patient’s phone calls, and make important decisions on the fly has got to be exhausting.

Happily, I was there to report that, at least for the moment, I’m feeling pretty chipper; looking forward to kayaking in a few weeks.  I had no complaints to add to his day, and his smile as he left the room seemed almost grateful.  I left the office smiling with the realization that life seems to work out as it should…I wasn’t Florence Nightingale material to begin with.   Besides…I’d never have been happy working for anyone but Marcus Welby.

                                                                Life is Good

Thursday, April 4, 2013

Life After Secretarial Support



      

 Someone once said, “There is nothing constant but change,” and they were on the money. 

To my way of thinking change comes in two sizes.  There are small changes that happen so gradually we don’t take much notice at the time.  A grey hair here and there…a small wrinkle that somehow found its way to your forehead and deepens slightly with every facial expression…grass slowly reclaiming the flower bed on the east side of the house….those things.   I call those “accumulating changes” because we don’t see them all at once. 

More jarring, or joyous, are the big changes that alter your life forever:  Marriage…the birth of a child…death of a parent….retirement.  I call those “bomb changes” because they hit one day, but have a ripple effect on the rest of your life.

I have experienced all of the ‘afore mentioned changes; celebrated some and endured others.   They’re all life changers, but the one that gives me the most trouble at this moment is retirement.

Yes, I retired from managing radio stations, and yes…I did go back to work six months later as editor of Heart of Ohio Magazine.  There are light years of difference in the two jobs…writing and editing is such a joy for me at this point in my life!  That is not to say I didn’t enjoy radio…I had over thirty terrific years in a great business.  But the biggest change for me has been the fact that I no longer have a secretary!

Managing stations in three counties I was fortunate enough to have the most efficient, intelligent and dependable people in each office who made up for all of my shortcomings.   My administrative assistant in Ashland, Tammy Pelton, could make a spread sheet sing as she filled them with figures and formulas.  She had a razor sharp memory for numbers, and without her the budgets for all the stations would have been a nightmare, if not impossible.  In Marion Amy Coder and Laurie Dutton could make anything happen, and in Mansfield Lynn Kiley knew where everything was or was supposed to be.  Nancy Brandt could wring any item needed for traffic or billing out of the proprietary software systems she had somehow conquered.

These women weren’t actually “secretaries”…they were the memory banks and human computer chips that made business life move along as I breezed in and out of the various stations.  One thing they all had in common, they knew I was helpless in the face of a fax machine, copier and the ever mysterious computer, and were kind enough to act as though it were a normal affliction.   At budget time I spit out numbers and Tammy put them into spread sheet order.  In every office there was at least one gal upon whom I depended heavily when my computer went berserk or the copy machine ran out of paper or I needed to know how much our electric bills were six years ago, on a Friday, before six o'clock.

Fast forward a few years.  I’m enjoying my version of retirement; working with a nice staff at the office and interviewing interesting people so I can write their stories for the growing number of readers of Heart of Ohio Magazine.   As I work on those stories I’m reminded that I can type, but do little else on this computer contraption.   I’m still trying to figure out how to change the spacing…and often I do things that cause my screen to change up its offerings.  I plunk around and sometimes get it back to “normal”; other times I simply have to work around what I’ve done.  Not so long ago I could have called out, “Tammy!” and she would have swept into my office to tap a few keys.  Everything would have gone back into its proper order on the backlit screen, waiting patiently for me to screw it up again.

Today, with no one specifically assigned to clean up after me, I have a printer that won’t print pictures from my laptop and a copy machine that spits things, unrelated to my needs, out of slots I didn’t even see before I pressed the buttons.  In addition there is a fax machine I won’t even begin to deal with.  I find this constant assault on my technical abilities (or lack thereof) to be tiring.  I’m certainly not in Kansas anymore.

Yes, I’ve had to adjust to life after secretarial support….and it’s not easy.  Retirement is definitely a life changing event, and so is a career change.  I am lucky to have worked with a wonderful group of gals who were not just talented staff, but friends as well.  Although we’ve gone our separate ways we still manage to get together once in a while for lunch or a drink and talk about the “old days”.  I just hope they all know how much I appreciate them…back then and now.

One thing all this change has taught me is to take life one day at a time; live in the moment.   If that moment happens to be trying to figure out how to get my original out of the bowels of the copy machine….so be it.

                                                                              Life is Good