IT'S PUMPKIN TIME

 

 

but where would I have put it once I got it home - that is if I had won the bidding?

 

BELOW THE MASON-DIXON LINE

 

On this October 18^th, 245 years ago, surveyor Jeremiah Dixon and astronomer Charles Mason completed the plotting of the 233 mile line known to us all, naturally, as the Mason-Dixon Line. Historically speaking, it settled the border between Pennsylvania and Maryland.  During the earlier settlement of the country things got a bit messy with lands granted to various families.  Stop here: this is where it sometimes “gets to me”, that bit about “lands granted.”  Broadly speaking, the English swept up what the French and Spanish didn’t particularly claim – though they had a few wars later over it all – and just stated, more or less: “Never mind who lives here now, all this is ours to do with and give away as we like.”  Talk about divine right of kings! Talk about coming in and taking over! Whew!

But to continue: the claims of Penns of Pennsylvania and the Calverts of Maryland overlapped significantly to the point where Philadelphia was technically within the Maryland colony. So out they went with their rods and chains, letting Philadelphia sit a good fifteen miles above the new border, and marked the line for posterity.  The line now forms the boundaries of four states: Maryland, Pennsylvania, West Virginia and Delaware.  The Delaware-Pennsylvania section of the line is relatively small, and the rest of their border is a twelve mile arc. That arc in itself is an interesting topic for another essay.

 

 

A born Yankee – a New Yorker from “Nu yawk”, although I don’t really sound like that – I never ever expected to live below the line, much less have my whole family living down South. One lives in the suburbs of Houston, one the suburbs of Charleston, and now the other two are near Charlotte. Jobs are the great movers of families these days. Needless to say, I never gave the line a thought other than to know that it separated us from them, culturally speaking and gastronomically speaking. Ooh – the gastronomy down here is superb!

Why do adults tell children outlandish things? I know my Father was highly indignant later on in life when he learned that chocolate milk did not come from brown cows. His Mother was born in West “By God” Virginia. Many times when I was little she told me that the Southerners would love me because my name is Lee. Well, good grief! How long can a kid believe something like that?!  I don’t know how many Southerners like me, but I like a whole lot of Southerners that I’ve met so far. They are charming, gracious people. Sometimes, living where I do, I am mortified at what they have to put up with from pushy Northerners. It’s the same feeling I got a few times when we were traveling in Europe and “Ugly Americans” - maybe they were Northerners! – were less than polite, shall we say, to a shop clerk or the hotel staff.  Maybe I just don’t want to be tarred with the same brush.

Reverting back to gastronomic delights, and I frequently do, I leave you with this prayerful poem by the late, big and big-hearted actor, Victor Buono. 

The last lines say it all. 

A Dieter's Prayer

Lord, my soul is ripped with riot
incited by my wicked diet.

"We Are What We Eat," said a wise old man!
Lord, if that's true, I'm a garbage can.
To rise on Judgment Day, it's plain!
With my present weight, I'll need a crane.

So grant me strength, that I may not fall
into the clutches of cholesterol.
May my flesh with carrot-curls be dated,
that my soul may be poly unsaturated

And show me the light, that I may bear witness
to the President's Council on Physical Fitness.
And at oleo margarine I'll never mutter,
for the road to Hell is spread with butter.

And cream is cursed; and cake is awful;
and Satan is hiding in every waffle.
Mephistopheles lurks in provolone;
the Devil is in each slice of baloney,

Beelzebub is a chocolate drop,
and Lucifer is a lollipop.
Give me this day my daily slice
Cut it thin and toast it twice.

I beg upon my dimpled knees,
deliver me from jujube's.
And when my days of trial are done,
and my war with malted milk is won,
Let me stand with Heavenly throng,
In a shining robe -- size 30 long.
I can do it Lord, if you'll show to me,
the virtues of lettuce and celery.

Teach me the evil of mayonnaise,
And of pasta a la Milanese
and crisp-fried chicken from the South.
Lord, if you love me, shut my mouth.


Amen

 

Oh yes!  Amen to that!

 

 

 

FALL FAIR

Our granddaughter at the Altamont Fair on a windy fall day in 1993!  Can't you just taste that candy-apple?  Makes my teeth itch!

LOGIC AND DIPLOMACY - AND CHALLENGE

When I was in high school the Guidance Department gave us aptitude tests.  I came out highest to be an auto mechanic or a diplomat. At that time I just listened to the counselor’s spiel while I sat there, got up, and went out. All I remembered after that were the two professions, neither of which I chose to follow. Looking back after all these years, I see that the common denominator there was logic.

An auto mechanic must have a logical mind to go with his knowledge of cars.  The combination tells him, for instance, what’s wrong with the car, how to take it apart, and, most important, how to put it back together again.

A diplomat has to juggle logic: his own and that of the entities with whom and between whom he must negotiate, and with whom he must maintain cordial relations on behalf of his country or company.  Like being green, it ain’t easy.

I did fall into a field that required logic: computer programming.  I was working for a Long Island bank that was about to get its first computer.  They tested all the employees and I scored very well. So, from being a teller and then a clerk in the loan department, I was catapulted into the world of computers. Programming involves logic: instructions to the computer must follow logically, with no “oh, by the way” instructions to mess things up. Logically, I could say, I went from programming, to systems analysis, to running the department, to becoming and A.V.P. in Operations, the first female officer at the bank. 

On the face of things now, I don’t have to dig down and use any of my logic abilities. Except that I can’t get into a criminal mindset, I can usually understand other people’s point of view.  After over a quarter of a century of retirement, living in a relatively isolated and fairly homogenous rural community, it’s a brain boost, and sometimes a diplomatic challenge, to live in a dense, diverse community like this Sun City Carolina Lakes.

 

NOW I KNOW...

...WHY THEY CALL THEM THE BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAINS.

We're back from our too brief sojourn in Blowing Rock, North Carolina. We had a marvelous trip, saw this year's start of the fall colors, spent time and took a lot of pictures on Grandfather Mountain and the Blue Ridge Parkway, and bought wonderful handcrafts from pottery to jam and sourwood honey.

KEEPING IT ALL TOGETHER

Tomorrow is our 38^th anniversary.  We’ll be off later today to the mountains of North Carolina for a celebratory trip. We’ve had folks comment on how well my husband and I get along. Naturally, above all, we love each other to pieces.  Though we can mildly aggravate each other at times, we enjoy each other’s company above any others.

We both enjoy planning ahead: for the next meal, the next shopping trip, the next car, the next house. This usually helps us with our P’s: Proper Prior Planning Prevents Piss-Poor Performance. We’re probably in our last house now, but we still enjoy the planning. One never knows, do one? We’re fortunate that we’re both inclined to be neat and organized – it precludes sniping at one another.  Above all, we are courteous to each other. Saying a ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ for little favors leads to greater appreciation of bigger ones.

Over the years we’ve developed little rituals that we enjoy: from being sure to put out the sweet gherkins for our tuna melts to selecting fresh flowers for the house. Our best, now ingrained ritual is to say “I Love You” or “Love You to Pieeeeeeeeeeces!” Waking up each morning, settling in to bed, and all times in between; coming and going – especially going or ending a phone call with each other or any of the family – the words are always there. 

We’ve got a song-book of family sayings, many of which our children and grandchildren outgrew years ago. When Joe was Joey – a little kid, that is – if he’d had a bad day, struck out, guttered too many bowling balls, or maybe fallen off his bike, he’d say to his Dad “it’s a no day Dad.” “A no day Dad” is a phrase of the past for him, but it is a regular in the conversation between Frank and me.  Similarly, when our oldest grandchild was in day care, she came home disgusted one day because the resident baby ducks were gone.  When asked how they were that day she replied: “No ducks, es worms.”  This too is part of her past, our present. 

These are just family sayings and doings, nothing too catchy or memorable outside of the family, but they keep the memories alive and the love renewed.

You might like to read about Zen Hugs, another of our family favorites.

A LATE SEPTEMBER DAY...

...heading west into Montana in 1994.  A load of hay!  My Mom always said it was lucky to see a load of hay, and that was the trip and the time of year to see them.  And it was lucky: we had a wonderful trip.

WORDS, WORDS, WORDS

“Words, words, words, I’m so sick of words” sang Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady.  Words, words, words – I just love words.

 Yesterday’s  The Writer’s Almanac  celebrated the anniversary of the Norman Conquest in 1066, and cited many of the words we owe to the French. Now I know why we have cow/beef, calf/veal, and sheep/mutton. These three alone are a clue as to why English is not an easy language to learn. So many words, so little time.

On last year’s anniversary (I sometimes think this anniversary is a moveable feast) my blog celebrated the same, the 945^th anniversary, with a blog on languages.  To celebrate the day this year, why not check out Grammarphobia, a blog of “grammar, etymology, usage, and more” that is guaranteed to fascinate and enlighten anyone who loves words.

 

MRS. COW AND MRS. HORSE

FRENCH COUNTRY COWS

It’s another story as to why, but when my sister and I were small we shared a double bed. Many nights under the covers we would play-act. We had vivid imaginations! We must have played many things, but the ones I remember most were “Radio” and “Farm”.  We thought we were putting one over on our Mom, but of course she knew what was going on and knew, as she told us years later, we’d soon fall asleep.

 

 

When we played “Radio” one of us would decide what she wanted to hear and the other would make twist-the-dial noises and provide the show. “Farm” must have been our favorite.  Chit-chatting about our day, she was Mrs. Cow and I was Mrs. Horse.  And to each other, until the day she died, we were still Mrs. Cow and Mrs. Horse.  We were Mrs. Cow and Mrs. Horse to the point that our Mom once bought us beautifully-made cloth dolls with cow and horse bodies. We were Mrs. Cow and Mrs. Horse to the point where every time I see a cow – or her favorite daisies – I think of my sister Karen.

A heartfelt thank you to Sharon Santoni at My French Country Home. Today when I opened her blog there were several wonderful pictures of my favorite animal: cows. My sister would have loved those photos. Sharon has a great eye for photography and takes the most gorgeous photos. The shots from her brocante trips are not to be missed. I save many of her pictures for my Desktop slide show. So – the real cows are from Sharon, the dollies, sitting happily in my guest room, are my own.

 

 

 

THE COAT OF MANY COLORS

 

 



I recently started a relatively free subscription to Vogue. (I used some extra air miles.) Two days ago the September issue arrived – a bit late, but that’s probably because the mail carrier could have developed a hernia carrying it.  The darn thing is one and a half inches thick, runs to over 900 pages, and reeks of perfume samples, about 90% advertising content, and a lot of ugly clothing.

Oh, there are some clothes I just love. Trust Oscar de la Renta and Valentino, among others, to come up with some stunning creations. The magazine goes next to my daughter-in-law, so I dog-eared several pages of my favorites for her to note.

 

The issue marks the 120^th anniversary of Vogue.  I subscribed to it way-back-when.  Years (eons) ago I joshed that I went from Seventeen magazine to Vogue. There is no further step up.  There is no fashion magazine for us almost-seventy types living in fixed-income territory and wearing what is most comfortable, most presentable, suited to many occasions, and classic enough to span the seasons as well as the years.

 

But I digress. The impetus for this blog entry was the lack in the anniversary issue of any pictures of my favorite super model from “my era”, namely Veruschka.  Oh they had Twiggy and Jean Shrimpton, Iman and even Jerry Hall.  But no Veruschka.  Well, I was mildly miffed – I suppose perhaps the 70’s Vogue-Veruschka feud goes on – so I googled for some pictures of her. Even at the age of 73 she is still striking.  And there, down among all the images, was one I’d cut out and still have in my own special scrapbook. I just adored this coat-of-many-colors.  I once bought a rainbow striped caftan that was the closest I could get to the real thing.

 

Franco Rubartelli’s 60’s – photo from the blog Pleasurephoto  This one will find its way into my electronic "Eye Candy" file.  It is a pleasure photo.

 

[See that!  Frank just strolled by behind my desk and saw the picture. “I remember – didn’t you have something like that? Where is it?”  Or words to that effect.  Well as things do go, it went.  It had some strange unremovable stains down the side, and so I tossed it, donated it, whatever.  It’s gone, alas, but he remembers, and I remember, and I still do have that page from Vogue.]

 

MADWOMAN



Lucia Sturdza Bulandra
in The Madwoman of Chaillot
by George Ştefănescu (1967)

Last week Sue, my dear Canadian friend, and I were continuing our emailing conversation. Both of us are certainly certifiable 'madwomen' at times. I couldn't recall offhand if in "The Madwoman of Chaillot", as she first referenced it, the 'madwoman' was one word or two, so of course I googled it. (She was correct! Why do I question these things?)  The top entry was, as usual, for Wikipedia.  I could see right there that madwoman was one word, but of course I had to click on the Wikipedia entry - and there was this wonderfully colorful picture that just just "spoke to me." I just had to save it for my "Eye Candy" collection, and had to show it to all of you. See that! My question led me to a great picture.
 

Lucia Sturdza-Bulandra, as I learned, was a Romanian actress. She died at the age of 88 in 1961, so evidently this painting of her was from one of her final performances. She must have been a wonderful character!

                                                       Painting by Corneliu Baba - 1953

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SANTA CROCE

Galilleo's Tomb

 

In 1632, some 380 years ago this month, Galileo Galilei was ordered to Rome to stand trial for holding the then heretical idea that the sun was the center of the universe. We now know that his theory was but a step on the way to understanding the greater size of the whole shebang. What rang a bell when I read again about the association of the date was our visit to the Santa Croce in Florence, where Galileo is entombed.

Before we traveled to Italy with our daughter-in-law we asked for trip suggestions from her colleague Liliana who later took us on the wonderful gustatory tour in Liguria.  Liliana suggested that in Florence we pass up the Duomo and head for the Basilica de Santa Croce. I’m so very glad that we took her advice.

 

Ornately Michelangelo

Though I’ve never been inside Westminster I know of the many, many royals and other notables buried there. The names Elizabeth I and William Shakespeare do, after all, strike a familiar note. Still, to me the Santa Croce isn’t just another of the world’s big churches. Never in my whole life have I been so awed as I was there. It’s not that I didn’t believe that these men really lived, but whew, Michelangelo, Machiavelli, and Galileo! Most awe-inspiring was the tomb of Michelangelo. I can’t explain why, but I just stood and stared at it for quite some time, having a surprising sense of being in the presence of greatness. That sense of something special, all in my head and imagination as it may have been, has stayed with me. I hear or see a reference to Florence or the Santa Croce and the feeling is there again. Even a reference to the Duomo elicits a fleeting thought of “boy I’m so glad we didn’t go there.”

Simply Machiavelli

 

So my advice to you, should you be going to Italy and have, as we did, just a brief time in Florence, do take yourself to the Basilica de Santa Croce – and then have a great Margherita pizza in one of the outdoor cafes on the Piazza della Signoria. 

 

 

ALL ANYONE EVER WANTS...



...is a little patch of shade to call their own.

NATIONAL COUPON MONTH

This article was first written for Living @ Sun City Carolina Lakes, our community magazine, for the September 2010 issue.  It will also be included in this month's issue, the last printed issue, of Refund Cents.  I've updated some of the numbers and added items such as e-coupon which weren't so prevalent two years ago.

           

         Recently I was told that September is National Coupon Month.  Who knew?! Evidently it is has been dreamed up by the Promotion Marketing Association Coupon Council. Never heard of that bunch, did you? September or not, every month is coupon month at our house. My mother ‘couponed’ back as far as I can remember, and I carry on the practice. I call it a practice, not a hobby. It is just part of my regular routine for preparing to shop: cutting coupons, checking the larder, reading the fliers, making the lists. The fun part is seeing what great deals I can get and totaling up the savings. Along about 1983 I began to keep track of my savings. I included savings on coupons, supermarket discounts, and refund checks. In that year my coupon savings amounted to just 3% of my supermarket bill. It gradually grew to be around 33 to 35% of the bill. That’s quite a savings. Just to impress you, I went back and totaled it all. (Yes, I still have the records!). I can tell you that to date, since 1983, I’ve saved $18,861 using coupons; $20,310 in supermarket discounts, and received $2,915 in refund checks, for a nice total of $42,086. Now that is a chunk of change to add up over almost thirty years. 

       If you are unfamiliar with couponing you may think that number impressive. For a household of just two people it may be, but there are people out there who make me look like a piker. Right here in Sun City Carolina Lakes we have people who not only manage to save for themselves, but who amass shelves-full of food and other products for the various local pantries and drives. I can come up with many items to donate, but these folks are in it ‘big time’. They don’t just collect a bagful or two over the year, they collect bagsful in a month! They work the deals at CVS, Walgreens and Rite Aid, the by-one-get-one free deals (known as BOGO’s) at the supermarkets, and glean as many on-line free samples as they can. Wow! That can be an almost full time job. 

        To start the couponing practice you must first get the Sunday newspaper. Your yearly savings will more than cover the price of the paper. In with the various store fliers will be two, maybe three booklets of coupons. (Don’t look for them on holiday weekends. That’s when their publishers take a break.) Begin by searching for and cutting out coupons for the products you use regularly. The manufacturers will try to tempt you with a lot of convenience food coupons, but don’t give in! (unless it’s a Freebie, of course!). Once you’ve cut out a good number of coupons over the weeks you will want to begin organizing them. Save any Business Reply envelopes you get in the mail. Write your shopping lists on the back, and keep your matching cents-off coupons in the envelope. Use other envelopes, either those business-reply or new ones, to organize your coupons into the categories. Making categories of the various departments and aisles of your most-shopped supermarket is the best idea. If you really take to couponing there are many coupon files and binders available to help you. 

        Next you must get familiar with the fliers from the stores where you shop regularly. Walmart fliers can be hit or miss, but Harris Teeter, Lowes Foods, Food Lion, CVS, Walgreens, and the other locals have their fliers included in the Wednesday or Sunday newspapers. (These are the ‘locals’ for my Charlotte neck of the woods.)The alternative to the newspaper fliers is to go on line to the websites of your favorite stores.  The complete fliers will be spread out for you there. It will be important for you to check these regularly so that you can know when the stores are running specials. Harris Teeter, as many of us at SCCL know, doubles coupons up to 99 cents every day, but will often triple those coupons, and sometimes double coupons from $1.00 to $2.00. 

 

      And now, while we’re on line, let me introduce you to two of the couponer’s newest, greatest assets: printable coupons and e-coupons. There are many sites where you can select and print just the coupons you need. The best of the bunch are couponinc.com and coupons.com. All the rest are takeoffs on those two. 
      E-coupons from sites like SavingStar.com are coupons you select to be electronically loaded on to your account at participating stores.  When you shop and purchase the matching item the price is deducted from your bill. There is nothing to print or clip, and many stores will take the e-coupon plus a clipped coupon for double the money off.  Many supermarket chains have their own e-coupon programs too. One drawback to this is that the coupons are “out of sight, out of mind”, so you may forget to use them before they expire.

 

       There are many hobby-couponer sites out there too. The best of that bunch, one to which I’ve subscribed to in print and on line for eons, is RefundCents.com. This is couponing and refunding’s bible, its vade mecum, its Wikipedia. Much of the site’s information can be accessed for free, but the ’good stuff’ requires a subscription. Some of the ‘good stuff’ includes weekly listings of the double plays and free items at, for example, CVS and Walgreens; news of free samples; store deal such as the Teeter Triples and Kroger specials; previews of the Sunday coupons; and great deals at on-line retailers, known as etailers. An on-line subscription is $12 a year, and that will repay itself many times over. 

      Once you have the couponing habit you’ll be on the lookout for good deals everywhere. Don’t throw out those newspaper fliers or mail box stuffers without checking them first. There’s a trove of savings to be had by coupons on restaurants, pizzerias, clothing, cleaners, hair cutters, home improvement centers, oil changes - savings all over the town. Sign up for emails from Wendy’s, Ruby Tuesdays, Outback and other places you visit regularly. Many emails contain printable coupons or news of good deals.

 

    And finally, do keep track of those savings. There are those who ear-mark the savings for special nights out, special gifts, or an otherwise frivolous purchase. Part of my savings justifies my subscriptions to the shelter and cooking magazines I love, not to mention that subscription to RefundCents. Do look into couponing. You will be pleasantly surprised when the savings start to add up. 

 

 

                                                                

 

 

TREES, TREES...

...and cypres knees and one Barred Owl on the lookout for a meal.


Congaree National Park, South Carolina   May 2011

NAP ATTACK

 

One of my earliest school memories was the mid-morning milk break. At that time in the mid 1940’s milk was 2¢ a day, and I remember bringing my weekly dime to school wrapped in a hankie pinned to my uniform.  What brings me to the topic at hand is that after our not-too-cold carton of milk was finished and cleared away (paper straws and not-too-cold milk still remind me of those days) we had to put our heads down on our desks, pillowed on our arms, and take a little nap. Ten minutes maybe? I suppose it was a break for the nun. I don’t remember if I actually slept – who would? – but I do remember studying the dents and scratches on my wooden desktop.

Do you think that might have been the origin of the power nap?

I am incapable of taking a “Power Nap”. If I go in to nap I’ll sleep for two hours. I love napping, but a two hour nap can interfere with my night’s sleep.  I usually go to bed early; it’s safer and healthier if I go to bed around eight when my husband does.  He can sleep for twelve hours or more but I usually get up early - maybe 5:30 or 6.  Here’s my problem, and the reason for it is probably known to nutritionists or behaviorists: if I stay up later than he I’ll snack like crazy, yet when I get up early I can grab just a of coffee and I’m good almost indefinitely. I guess it’s all in how I’m wired.*

 

*See Haywire

 

ANOTHER PICTURE FOR THE CURMUDGEON FILES

 

As many of you are aware, I am a great fan of Queen Elizabeth II.  (I'm counting down the days for her to beat Queen Victoria at the reigning game.)  Many of you are also aware that I am a curmudgeon and I delight in collecting pictures of curmudgeonly people or people sporting curmudgeonly looks. Well, I've found another picture for my collection, thanks to my discovery of Janelle McCulloch's A Library of Design.  This gal has a great blog and a great sense of humor.  I don't know who takes credit for snapping this particular picture, but I am indebted to them and to Janelle.   I think the picture adds a certain je ne sait quoi to my collection.

GUIDES TO LIFE and LITTLE GRIEFS

Though I was in data processing back in the late 60’s when the “tiny minded” computer was as big as a refrigerator, I still have to keep that hard copy “just in case”. I was going through and organizing the files of essays I’ve written and I found slotted just behind them, a folder I’ve had for years, a folder titled “Guides to Life!”  - note that exclamation point.  Perhaps I marked it that way to signal to anyone in the future who’d have to go through and clean out my files: “This is some good stuff.” 

The oldest article, Lessons from Aunt Grace, dates back to a Reader’s Digest from 1984. The wonderful essay, written by Nardi Reeder Campion, and later included in a compendium of life lessons called Chicken Soup for the Single’s Soul, was a lesson in how to conduct a simple, fulfilling life. 

 

 

The latest article, by former British Prime Minister Tony Blair, is from Time magazine in 2010, and is “an essay exclusively adapted for Time from his new memoir.”  He was writing about the American Presidents he’s known and about our country. The one line I thought outstanding was this one about the American ideal, our optimism and achievement: “There is always one…test of a nation’s position: Are people trying to get into it, or to get out of it? I think we know the answer to that in America’s case, and that ideal is the reason.”  Wonderful comment, don’t you think?

In these past few years, unlike with my own works that I’ve got to safeguard on paper – talk about an obsession! – I’ve also amassed a larger, but maybe less selective and less important group of articles bookmarked on line. To paraphrase the saying about books: so many articles, so much information for an information junkie; so little time.”

The printed articles I’ve collected – I counted them, there are only a dozen in the folder – are on such subjects as nice ways to say no, choosing the right words to help you help others, how to write effective letters, and how one woman shed her shame and obsession about her body. (I really related to that one.)

At this point, the most interesting to me of those saved articles is one from Woman’s Day in 1994 titled “Little Griefs.”  If you’re a regular follower of this blog you might have read the essay I called “Smashing”.  That one concerned big griefs and big beefs.  Little griefs, this old article says, also deserve rituals: perhaps not the big deals required for a death or a divorce, but small, personally designed ceremonies.

 

Such rituals, whether or not they have an audience, and usually they don’t, provide comfort and solace when little griefs, like the death of a pet, the loss of a treasured item, or even having your feelings hurt, strike home. “Feelings need acknowledgement, and will pester us when we give them their due.”  The old rhyme of “Sticks and stones may break my bones…” can be wrong: names can harm people.  Having a personal ritual to help dispel little griefs is an excellent idea.  Wouldn’t it be a nice idea to work with a child on their own grief-dispelling ritual? That’s something you could give them to help carry them all through life. 
 

I just may work on a little ritual of my own.

 

 

DIGNITY - My Definition

This past week I came upon the following article by Emily Wilkinson:

Dignity Defined What is it, exactly, and do we know it when we see it?  You may want to read the article here first.

Though the article doesn’t mention the title, she is reviewing a book, Dignity:It’s History and Meaning, by Harvard professor Michael Rosen. She says, truly, that “in the aesthetic sense of the word, ours is not a particularly dignified age.”  I’ll say it’s not! The book concerns dignity as it relates to our thinking and laws, to our definitions of human rights. It seeks to define and reconcile the divergent definitions and usages of the word dignity. I must admit that I have no inclination to do more than skim the book, but the article’s title, Dignity Defined, struck a chord relating to dignity and the lack thereof in our society. I’m not qualified to define dignity, yet I know the lack of it when I see it.

Consider the thirty-something mother, dashing out at the last minute, late on a Sunday afternoon, to catch the late mass at the Catholic Church. She’s dressed in a floaty top and cut off, ragged, short shorts, and is going only because lack of regular attendance will mean an increase in her children’s tuition at the church school.  Some would say “at least she’s going to church.” Some would decry her lack of dignity. Cringing on the inside, I stood by and watched her leave and I didn't say a word.  Shame on me?!

Consider the elderly man in a Florida restaurant, lazily slouching in a straight chair in the lobby.  His legs are spread, he’s wearing shorts but no underwear, and his parts are hanging out.  Are you getting a visual? Dignity?

Though he might like to be considered a dignified older gentleman, he left his dignity in his dictionary. Some would dismiss the incident as the failings of an old man, some would stare, some would laugh. (We didn’t know what to do! As we sat at our table he was right in our line of sight. We were distracted when our lunches arrived – after that, to our relief, he was gone.)

Consider two of my pet Pet Peeves: The wearing of flag-printed clothing and the wearing of religious symbols as fashion jewelry.  I can go along with a t-shirt with a flag printed on it, but not a t-shirt, or any other clothing, that looks like it was made from a flag, it’s a fine distinction, but my mind understands it.  The same thing for any other type of stylized flags, our own Stars and Stripes, or any other country’s, when used as clothing.  The Editor of Offbeat Earth would agree with me.

This guy should know better. 
Picture from Offbeat Earth via Google Images 

As to jewelry: eons ago for the Christmas family get-together, one of my nephews showed up wearing silvery dangling crosses in his pierced ears. Pierced ears I could maybe condone, but the dangling crosses were too much. I let him know that I thought the wearing of such things was no way to let the world know he was a Roman Catholic. To this day he probably thinks I’m a reactionary wacko, but to me a cross or medal or other religious symbol, worn hanging around the neck as has been traditional for centuries, is the only acceptable way to let the world know what you are.  I’m not sure if these two peeves are concerned more with respect than with dignity, but there you have it.  Perhaps it is this: they are dignified symbols that are worthy of our respect. I am a googling nut!  I checked out the Images section for 'cross earrings' - there are pictures galore so the practice must be widespread.  Does this make them dignified? Not on you life.

Dignity can’t be legislated, awarded or bestowed.  It has to be earned, one has to be worthy of it, one has to embody it.  Domine non sum dingus – Lord I am not worthy.  Dignitat is the Latin for worth or worthiness. Our word dignity stems from this root, but we’ve come to use the two words differently. One may be dignified, but is he worthy? It seems to me that somewhere along the line ‘they’, my favorite people, picked up dignity in place of value or worthiness.  They talk about the dignity of human life – that’s a bit of a stretch, though it can be said that human life has value or worth.  Wilkinson writes about the “semantic slipperiness” of dignity. Many current word meanings have strayed far from their origins.  If they got back to the core meaning of the word dignity, the worthiness or value of an entity, and let go of the empty definition that has evolved, there’d be less difficulty.  

Just check Google Images for Dignity and you'll see photos that
run the gamut from beautiful to almost obscene.

HAPPY HUNDREDTH BIRTHDAY JULIA CHILD

I couldn’t start the day without a small celebration of the 100^th birthday of Julia Child. Jacques Pépin has written a wonderful piece about her for the New York Times.  I wrote an essay in May, and you may remember that they are two of my favorite chefs.

I will always be indebted to Julia Child for the great idea she had. She didn’t like being able to see the back of her refrigerator as she went into her kitchen, so she had a bookcase built there to house her cookbooks and Encyclopaedia Britannica, and to hide the coils. I did the very same thing, with shelves for our Britannica, in our new house – this was in 1976! – because you would have been able to see the side of the refrigerator, coils, dust and all, as you came in the front door.  I always thought this one of the cleverest bits of decorating inspiration I’d ever encountered. I still have the well-illustrated article, from a May 1976 New York Times Magazine, about “The Kitchen Julia Built”. Her kitchen was, as the article said, a model of “practicality, chic, warmth and fun.” 

Julia's kitchen circa 1976

The Julia Child kitchen now at the Smithsonian is the updated one devised in the 90’s to accommodate the taping of her television shows. I couldn’t locate a good shot of the bookcase on Google Images so I scanned in the one from the article.  I wish I had a picture from my own kitchen in that house – three houses ago! – that bookcase was very handy.