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?