Reign, Rein, or Rain?

In a newsletter distributed to more than 20,000 subscribers,a blurb began: “Searching for a way to reign in a federal deficit that has ballooned to $1.4 trillion, the Obama administration on Monday announced a proposal to freeze the pay of 2.1 million federal employees through 2012.”

I’m not a federal employee so the thought of a frozen paycheck isn’t what sent me over the top. This is the second time in less than a month where I’ve come across confusion over reign, rein, and rain (we learned about homophones in fourth grade). In 1970 (yes, 40 years ago), Fred Gwynne wrote The King Who Rained which is still, by far, the most fun way to figure out the correct usage for words that sound alike but have different meanings. There’s even a short YouTube video if you’re a visual learner.

Here’s a gentle reminder on what word works where:

·          A queen reigns over her subjects, often with a royal wave.

·          A rider reins in his horse or a family reins in spending.

·          Eliza Doolittle sings, “The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain.”

My guess is that most folks use the correct spelling for the stuff that falls from the sky.  It’s trying to be fancy that gets us in trouble with the other two.  In the case of the newsletter, the editor would have been better off thinking about a cowboy (rein) instead of royalty (reign).  Most of those 20,000 readers probably didn’t even notice the error. This cranky old English teacher did.

Ten Gratitudes

Don and I had a tradition of eating fish at McCormick & Schmick’s on the Wednesday night before the Thanksgiving holiday (honestly, I think he actually preferred USAT’s turkey over mine since he seemed to have to work more Thanksgivings than not) where we shared a recap of the things, large and small, we were most grateful for over the past year.

Don’t think that as DINKs (Double Income, No Kids) that we managed elaborate letters/lists of grand documents every single year.  Much depended on work loads and the “busyness” of life (I still remember one year when the reservation kept getting pushed back in 30-minute increments because the Chief’s email wasn’t working—we finally made an 8:30 seating and the Exchange server was working, whoo-hoo!). 

This wasn’t the only time during the year when we were grateful, but it’s a specific moment when we were mindful of the year’s blessings.  Perhaps it’s an understatement to say this has been an especially challenging year, but I’m still thankful (for many things, but here are 10):

• The anonymous person(s) who raked the leaves in the front yard this week.  I don’t know who, but I know that I’m grateful (and Don, who used to shake the leaves off the limbs to be able to rake them, is, too).
• I’m not forced to make any immediate decisions about where I live or what I do.
• Lean Cuisine and NutriSystem dinners which lets me nuke food and not have to think about what I’m eating..
• Colleagues who took up the slack when I couldn’t meet work commitments and didn’t make me feel guilty.
• Friends who call and email to “exchange pleasantries.”
• Family and long-time friends who are my cheerleaders and “think I can” no matter what.
• Sunday School classes of toddlers who make me smile even when I’m sad.
• an iPhone that lets me track Facebook and Twitter and listen to tunes while I’m walking around the neighborhood (as my sole form of exercise).
• Nieces and nephews who call, text, email, paint my toes, and color my hair.
• A husband who thought I was “da bomb” for almost 20 years.  As Christopher Robin said to Pooh: You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.

Yes, I’m grateful for the blessings of 2010 (call me Pollyanna) and looking forward with great hope to the adventures of 2011.  What about you?

Old Dog, New Tricks

I hate change (almost as much as I dislike conflict, but that’s another post).  I’ve worn the same perfume for more than 30 years (I rationalize that it’s my signature fragrance). I drive the same route to work every day, usually changing lanes at the same place, too. I sit in the same pew at my church with the same folks in front and behind and am discombobulated if we aren’t all in place. I used to include a slide in my Giftedland workshops that said, “The only person who likes change is a wet baby,” and I pretty much believe that.

You’d think I wouldn’t like new things, but I do. I like meeting new people, learning new facts, hearing new songs, trying different restaurants. I’ve even tried a variety of hair colors in the past few years under the tutelage of my fashion-forward niece since after you have no hair, you figure a different color (or three) ain’t no thang.

Am I an oxymoron?  Maybe in other areas of my life, but I handle change—eventually.  By now, family, friends and colleagues know that when change is thrust upon me, I need to vent (perhaps pout), envision all the horrible things that “might” happen, read as much as I can about the implications and pitfalls of said change, and then put my big girl panties on and get on with it.

Everything about this Cheryl v.3.0 thing involves moving beyond my comfort zone. Isn’t that what change involves for everybody?  So, here are three reminders that I’ve been using that may be helpful to you, too:

•     “Be with it.” An incredibly wise friend shared this several years ago and it’s become my mantra, especially over the past year. Take a deep breath and take each hour, each moment as it comes…a cliché? No doubt, but it works.

•     Laugh. Often, hard, and, yes, inappropriately every now and then. Need a pirate joke? I have a million. If you can, choose to laugh inappropriately with the people who love you most, but don’t worry if you slip.  Sometimes you need the laughter more than you need the approval.

•     Celebrate victories, even the smallest ones that don’t make a difference to anyone else. For example, driving in DC has been a major bogeyman for me.  Silly, I know, but this “Little Girl from Little Rock” doesn’t like to drive in the first place and those round-about things so familiar to New Englanders freak me out.  Don’t even start on the logic that Pierre L’Enfant used to lay out the city; I just know you think you’re on H Street and then it’s Pennsylvania Avenue and, OMG, you’re at the White House and they’re going to think I’m a terrorist (I’m getting to the victory, stay with me).  Anyway, I made it to DC (and back) in my own car this week and I’m a happy camper.  No big deal?  Not to you, but it’s a small victory to remember when it’s time to face the next change.

Major life events are often the impetus of change and I’ve seen enough folks come out successfully on the other side to be hopeful that Cheryl 3.0 will emerge, perhaps bloodied but unbowed.  What tips can you share with this old dog learning new tricks?  Let’s talk.

Never Too Old for Gold Stars

When I taught a creative writing class to high school juniors and seniors long ago, journaling was all the rage.  I suppose it was a precursor to blogging  So, of course, daily journal entries were part of my syllabus. My kids (perhaps not the PC term, but that’s how I thought of them) seemed to like it.  They could do up do N private entries where they folded the page of the notebook over and I didn’t read that entry, but I read most of the entries when they turned them in—monthly? Every six or nine weeks? I don’t remember.  Side bar: Multiply those pages by 30 or more students and then go thank a teacher who still “makes” students write.

The truth is, I didn’t mind the workload because the entries provided a window into their lives long before Facebook provided too much information to caring adults.  As a joke, I bought a pack of those gold gummed stars that elementary teachers used when I was in school.  Every now and then I’d stick a star (or two) on an entry that touched me or made me laugh.  When I ran out of stars, I used a purple or blue or green (no red, for this sensitive teacher!) pen and marked the entries.  Sometimes I’d write a comment or “Good!” but usually it was a star (or two or three).

I didn’t think much about using that system (after all, they got credit for writing whether I liked the entries or not) until I noticed one day there was much ado when I returned the journals.  Frantic shuffling of pages, silence, and then more shuffling.  After a bit, “Dude, she gave me three stars!  What did you get?”  “Ms. Evans, you gave Jimmy three stars and I only got two!”

That’s when I realized that the starting line-up of the football team (ok, it was an elective and they thought it was going to be an easy class—WRONG!) thought the gold stars they got in elementary school were still something to cheer about.  These huge hulks who seemed to only care about their Friday scores (on the field and off) were, deep down, excited to know that their journal entries warranted a two- or three-star rating on my highly unscientific scale.

If we’re honest, all of us care about gold stars, but they quit coming, for the most part, after we aren’t kids any longer.  In my tiny corner of the world, I decided that I’d do my best to hand out gold stars whenever I could to folks who are well past the age when it “should” matter.  I haven’t always done a great job, but I still try to tell folks when I see a gold star moment.  Sometimes it makes a difference, sometimes I don’t know.

It’s what I wish the world writ large would do.  Got a gold star to give?  Just do it.  Now.

Learning by Osmosis

Osmosis is one of those words I learned in high school biology class and I can’t say for certain that I’ve ever used it correctly in a sentence, much less understand how it really works, so don’t send your kids over for help with science homework.  I do, however, find that “learning by osmosis” is an important element in my learning portfolio.  Sleeping on a book won’t do it, no matter how appealing that sounds (almost as attractive as the dieting theory that calories don’t count if I’m standing up while I’m eating). 

No, my completely unscientific theory is that you learn things—big and small—when you don’t even mean to.  Or, at least, that’s what happens to me and then I’m delighted, most of the time, when I figure out I really do know what’s going on!

As a kid, we described it as “It just came upon me…”  Picture a 12-year-old at her weekly piano lesson.  I (I mean, “she”) hadn’t practiced much in the prior week so the hardest piece of music was hidden way down in the stack.  Mrs. M looked up from the metronome and said, “Now, let’s try blah, blah, blah.”  I’m not making this up—nine times out of ten, I ploughed right through with fair success; it came upon me.  Note to all current piano students  I am not advocating this protocol because it didn’t work as flawlessly  when I got to college and I struggled with students like me (I mean, “her”) during my itinerate piano teacher days.

I’m an unabashed “inside kind of girl” who likes books, plays, music, you know, “culcha” (aka things I do sitting down).  And then I married a sports editor and moved to Virginia.  In this alien environment, I was now spending early mornings with ESPN’s Sports Center; meeting people who talked about box scores, division rankings, and “magic” numbers; and sitting in stadiums and arenas in cities across the country.  Without paying much attention, I woke up one day reciting the starting five of the ’66 Rupp’s Runts, understanding that Desmond Howard’s 99-yard kickoff return for a touchdown at Super Bowl XXXI gave him a good chance at being MVP, and scoffing at amateurs who didn’t wait until the inning was over before heading to the concourse for ice cream.  In full disclosure, I STILL require multiple explanations of the “magic number” formula but I’ll get there eventually.

Osmosis moments occur professionally, too.  I’ve shared classrooms, offices and open-area spaces.  Even with intense concentration and a solemn vow that I’m not really listening (I don’t eavesdrop, I promise!), I find I’ve learned some really cool things and I have no clue how I did.  I just know I’ll be working along totally focused on the job at hand and I’ll realize hours later I’m reading an article that includes a factoid I heard earlier, usually prefaced by a phrase like....”This is gonna be the next ‘big’ thing” (heard it today, as a matter of fact, and made a connection not long afterward).

Call it exposure, immersion, spidey sense, or something else entirely, but it works.  I’m not that special so I figure osmosis learning happens to everybody, right?

Intellectually Curious or Just Plain Nosy?

Intellectual curiosity is probably just a nice term for nosy, but since I’ve been tagged with that characteristic for most of my life, I’m going with the marketing spin on this one.  Yes, I ask questions, probably too many, but I learn a lot by asking about things I don’t know.

I’ve always loved knowing random “stuff” and that’s only increased over the years.  I found a rationale for my nosiness when I was in grad school (the gifted and talented stint) and heard my grad school advisor  offer advice in the opening assembly of SLUFY (Summer Laureate University for Youth).  Emily said, “Every day when you come to SLUFY, you should make a new friend, learn something new, and ask a good question.”

Her audience back then was students in grades 1-6, but it’s since become one of my personal happiness commandments, and I’ve shared it with a number of young people I care a lot about and their ages range from five months to 21+.  Will they remember it, embrace it?  Don’t know but I do know that my own life has been enriched through observation, conversation, and questions. Thanks to more amazing folks than I can count (some friends, some strangers), I’m the poster child for a liberal arts education (yeah, Hendrix College, even if I did make it through without ever taking a science class).

The power of intellectual curiosity has taken on even more importance because of my opportunity to work with a visionary leader who is truly a gifted kid grown up and a lot of wicked smart people (my Boston buds have the most appropriate adjectives) since the early ‘90s.  They’ve indulged me by “exchanging pleasantries” over the years, all the while teaching me about things that are way beyond any perceived area of expertise or comfort zone that I might claim.

So, what kinds of things have I learned as a result of colleagues and the “kindness of strangers”?  The wonders of technology and what it can do—just ask a programmer what s/he does and then stand back.  I know just enough about the “innards” of technology to be dangerous, but I’m energized by my ability to ask enough conceptual questions for techies to take me seriously.  I’ve toured the underbellies of buildings to look at boilers and HVAC systems and scored directions for installing my own dimmer switch in my dining room chandelier (which I followed successfully!).  I’ve watched the ballets of the tow-truck operator, the mason laying brick, and the tree-trimmer.  I’ve listened and listened and listened (I don’t DO numbers!) to financial explanations and now have a glimmer of understanding of how to plan to take care of myself when I’m in my late 80s.  I’ve taken a page from the strategists as they smoothly navigate tenuous situations and marveled at their prowess. I read stories by gifted writers, no matter the topic, and try to analyze what makes their articles the special ones that make me smile. I still look at the Southern ladies in my life and think, “I want to be them when I grow up.”

Yes, it’s random, but that’s what makes it wonderful.  Nosy?  Maybe, but you can’t argue with “make a new friend, learn something new, and ask a good question”…what have you learned today?

Good Home Training

“Write thank you notes…”  That’s a real conversation-stopper when people ask me what I really want to do in my new business adventure.  As they try to figure out how to say, “Have you lost your mind?” in a tactful way, I assure them I know I can’t make much of a living doing that, but it’s truthfully what I’d enjoy most if money weren’t a consideration.

In the South, we refer to manners as “good home training,”  and thank you notes fall into that category. I know some folks think it’s unnecessary to send a written note if you’ve said thank you when you received the gift, but that’s not me (my mama raised me right).  I’m a crusader with definite “rules” to follow:

•     Handwrite and mail as soon as possible (in my family, you get a special dispensation to use email IF your life is crazy and/or you’re so excited by the kindness that you want the giver to receive immediate acknowledgment.  But, ideally, you should send a quick email of thanks and a written note that comes later).  If time flies, however, remember that it’s NEVER too late to write a note.  In full disclosure, I took notecards on my honeymoon and wrote a few thank you notes.  I don’t expect that level of dedication, but get to them soon!

•     Use personalized stationery.  Yes, it costs a bit more, but you can always ask for it as a gift (for which you’ll need to write a note!).  I have a stock of various styles—monogrammed, first name, last name, etc.  I’m a fan of correspondence cards but that’s because my notes are generally longer than what fits on a foldover note.  Earlier this year, a funeral director told me their sympathy acknowledgment cards were “free” and I could have as many as I wanted.  D’s family howled when I responded (they said with my nose crinkled), “Oh, no, I’ll use my own.”

•     Be as specific as you can about the gift (unless it’s a cash gift, and, even then, a mention about what you plan to do with the money is needed). You can get away with three or four sentences in your note but make sure that you’re specific enough that folks don’t think you copied the same note 47 times (shades of high school graduates cranking out notes).  Any note, even a generic one, is preferable to nothing, but it doesn’t take much to rise above “average”—and does anybody really just want to be “good enough”?

Remember that thank you notes span more than tangible gifts.  Somebody invited you for dinner?  Thank you.  Helped with an errand or chore?  Thank you.  Did a random act of kindness?  Thank you, thank you! 

Attitude of gratitude qualifies as a cliché these days with books, websites, and even a Facebook page, but clichéd or not, taking the time to write a note has always returned more to me than the effort I expended.  No excuses:  It’s a piece of paper, a 44-cent stamp and 10 minutes of your time.

While I may never make a living writing thank you notes (there are such businesses, but I’d have to find a bunch of brides or widows), I’m hoping there are a few people out in the world who would like to have my behind-the-scenes help in cultivating relationships through notes, emails, letters.  We’ll see if there’s a niche for good home training.

Maya Angelou allegedly (I can’t find a credible citation that makes me comfortable) said, “I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”  Wanna make somebody feel good?  Write them a note right now.