Memoir
Cursive as a Font Option?
In the 18th and 19th centuries, cursive was one’s special signature. It distinguished one individual from another. The most elite received special training, and possessing a “fair hand” was considered a desirable trait for both men and women. By the 1960s, a standardized method called D’Nealian Script had been introduced into schools all over the United States, and handwriting became more homogenized. I didn’t know any of this, of course. All I knew was that during “cursive time,” each of us learned to write the same way: on thin, gray paper that consisted of rows of lines: two straight continuous horizontal lines with one dashed line in the middle. We sat with our pencils poised “at the basement” of the line ready to “go all the way up to the attic” or to stop “at the first floor.”…
The Problem With Mirows
When hubby and I lived in New Orleans, we kind of came to accept that conventional spelling (and even pronunciation) was often up for grabs.
When it came time for us to move North, we hired a few packers to help us with the job. They were nice gentlemen. Plump and slow and toothless, too. But Worker Bee #1 and Worker Bee #2 toiled tirelessly in the June heat to help us prepare for our move, and we appreciated their assistance.
When our moving van arrived in New York State 15 days later (long story as to why it took so long, but let’s just suffice it to say that United Van Lines paid us to move), we eventually came upon one strangely enormous bundle labeled “mirows,” that had us stumped….
When "Neighborly" Doesn't Work
Given my solid track record in easily making new friends wherever I have lived, it never occurred to me that I might make enemies. …
School Is Not the Time To Make Friends
In 1976, we had so many opportunities to practice civility. It was okay to have a little chitter-chatter time built into our day. The classroom was where we learned our academics, but we also practiced our social skills. These days, I would imagine that most administrators would tell parents that there is simply not time for idle chitter-chatter. In fact, a few years ago an administrator told me that “school is not the place for children to make friends.” She argued that kids needed to get involved in extra-curricular activities to make friendships. That teachers needed to make the most of classroom time to prepare their students for standardized tests. That teachers have more to teach than ever.
In 2010, I would argue “the civility piece” has fallen out of the curriculum — along with idle time….
Teens Leavin' On a Jet Plane
In 1985, when I was a senior in high school, my parents allowed me to go on Spring Break to Ft. Lauderdale with my four closest friends. We flew on (the now defunct) People’s Express for $39 each way. (I know this because I still have the ticket stubs in my old scrapbook.) We stayed in a completely unfurnished condo, some of us sleeping two to a bed; we shopped and prepared an amazing spaghetti dinner which we cooked for ourselves (careful to put placemats on the floor so as not to get sauce on the new carpet). Now, we were “good girls,” so we didn’t get into too much trouble — but we did do some things that I am kinda sure our parents would have deemed questionable. (I will not post the evidence here.) I will simply ask:
If your high school-aged child asked if he/she could go and spend a week in Florida with friends — without any adult supervision, what would your answer be?…
Stuck Behind a Bus
Ever been stuck at a red light behind a school bus? Of course you have. You know that moment when the kids suddenly realize, “Hey! We’re not moving! And there’s a car back there with a person in it!” And then they all start frantically waving?
It’s definitely a decision moment….
The Empty Blue Desk
Fall Semester 2009. Last year. He sat in the back row. In the only blue desk in a room filled with brown…
What My Fingernails Know
When every fingernail on both of my hands has broken, I know it for sure: Summer is over. It happens to me every year over a two to three-day period. It’s a physical thing; parts of me grow brittle and fall off. Long before the leaves ever change to yellow or orange, my body knows: Autumn is in the house….
How I Fell in Love with Words
Through my youthful correspondence with a boy, I fell in love. With words. In person, I am often left feeling like I did not say the right thing. But when writing, I have time to be careful, to ponder, to find a new way to say something old. I learned how, in English, multi-syllabic words have a way of softening the impact of language, how they can show compassion, tenderness and tranquility. Conversely, I learned that single-syllable words could show rigidity, honesty, toughness, relentlessness. I saw how words could invoke anger, sadness, lust, and joy….
Why Overnight Camp Is Nothing To Be Afraid Of
It happens each summer. People ask about our plans, and when certain folks learn that our child spends three solid weeks each summer at overnight camp, I am met with looks of incredulity and sometimes horror.
More often than not, people gasp and say things like: “I could never do that,” as if to imply that I somehow force my son to pack his trunk and duffel and get out of our house. Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, if I didn’t let him go, he would consider that the biggest punishment – ever!…