I love Sarah Vowell and I don't care who knows. She is a humorous writer who is interested in history, music and old plaques. Truly we are kindred spirits — except she can bring to life items that might seem mundane. And she does an amazing job of tying past happenings to modern life. 

Not least, she wrote this essay, which crystallized my thoughts perfectly. And I will always be grateful.

Her latest book is "The Wordy Shipmates," an examination of the Puritans, and before you roll your eyes, it is very informative and interesting. I laughed out loud a few times. If you're wondering why some Americans are so histrionic about our perceived slide into socialism, this book will help you understand the religious beliefs that built — and strained — the Massachusetts Bay Colony and, eventually, the nation.

"The Wordy Shipmates" also has some fascinating passages about the past of the godforsaken part of Connecticut where I used to live. Wish I had paid more attention to the history while I was there, but I was too busy trying to fight my way out of depression and hardship. So I had something in common with the early settlers after all.

One other thing that makes Vowell and I kindred spirits is that we were both raised in strong Christian homes — hers was Pentecostal, mine was evangelical — but sadly she no longer believes the tenets of her childhood. This is where we differ. She might not share the faith anymore, but she can explain it well and is not condescending or negative about it.

I actually met her once after a reading in New York City and it was a great highlight for me. She was with David Sedaris at the time and I stood there wishing I could make time stop and have them all to myself for hours of conversation. She signed my copy of "Take the Cannoli," a book which I loaned out years ago and have never seen since.

Official Amnesty Proclaimed — if you have it on your bookshelf, mail it back anonymously. Then buy "The Wordy Shipmates." Verily, ye shall thank me.

I have a lovely house on a lovely street and I have inadvertently become That New Girl With the Garbage Can. Long story short, my garbage can was on the street for a couple days due to poor service from the trash hauler and a change in the pick-up schedule.

Not long after that I became The Girl With the Lawn. Even though I arranged to have it cut, the lawn service was rained out day after day. And the grass really grew.

So today I came home to find that my lawn had been edged. I figured the lawn service came to do that first step, and would return to later to mow. Then I learned that a neighbor had provided the service.

This is very charitable. But it also is the suburban equivalent of leaving a horse head in another's bed: an unmistakeable sign.

I called the lawn service to confirm they would be here today. They came promptly this afternoon and now everything is manicured perfection.

I can't wait to be The Girl with the Loud Springsteen Music.

I was driving down the divided highway with JFA in the passenger seat. A police cruiser approached on the opposite side of the road, lights but no siren. Turned out it was leading a funeral procession.

The SUV in front of me quickly veered to the shoulder. "I don't think we stop for funerals," I said, a bit testy. I drove around the parked car.

"Actually, in the South, we do," JFA said.

"Up North we do, but only at an intersection."

"I guess we just care more down here," he teased.

"Seriously? People pull over for a funeral on the other side of the road?"

"Sign of respect," he said.

"Well, now I just feel bad."

"You should. The deceased just sat upright in the casket and said, 'Who's the jerk in the Civic?'"

People here are so cotton' pickin' nice, sometimes I even think I'm back in Northern Ireland. Except for when it's as humid as a greenhouse. Which is almost always.

Anyway, JFA spent most of his formative years in the South and even he says people here are beyond nice. On the street, in a restaurant, in a store, people smile and speak to you. And the customer service is great. Not good — great.

Since JFA and I have no children nor real problems, we have to invent interesting challenges in the day such as whether are we getting great customer service. We have been pretty darn satisfied with everything here – we even had a good time picking out a washer and dryer!

We also went to movies. I saw "Up" yet again; third time, if you're counting.

One of the characters has a great line: "It's like America, but south." She said that trying to explain South America, but I think I'm going to use it to explain my little corner of Georgia.

There are new posts! Scroll down to see them … I finally put some up on the site even though they took place weeks ago. See if you can spot the latest additions!

My nephews arrived about 7:15 a.m. today to stay with my parents, as they do three days a week. They are three young boys under age 10 and they can really raise the roof. Therefore I got up about 7:15 a.m. I decided to have a little fun with this and lumbered down the hall growling in a deep voice, "Who has disturbed my slumber? Who has disturbed my slumber?"

The youngest one, who has only known me to chase after him for kisses or to chide him for being too loud, seemed genuinely puzzled (and maybe a little scared). Only when he snuck a glance at his two older brothers, who were laughing, did he realize this was a little show.

"Who has disturbed my slumber?" I yelled again.

"Not me," he said defiantly.

 

WEST LAFAYETTE, Indiana — Today I attended the Bat Mitzvah of a friend and found the ceremony truly moving. As you probably know, the Bat Mizvah is the ceremony that recognizes the arrival of the young person into religious obligation and adulthood — which means she is welcomed into the community, participates in the Shabbat service, and becomes responsible for her own decisions.

My friend, S, is a 12-year-old American [turning 13 on Monday] but I met her family when I lived in Northern Ireland. S's mom and I were co-workers and her family really looked after me and included me many fun things. They still live in Belfast and it was much easier to part from them a month ago, knowing that I would see them here in Indiana for this wonderful event.

Continue reading “mazel tov” →

Did you know there were 2 celebrities from Gary, Indiana who died last week? It's true. One was Karl Malden. The other was, well, you know.

I was in the airport today watching people watch TV. They were absolutely enthralled with details of Michael Jackson's funeral. Apparently it's going to be an absolutely huge event that is simulcast and will keep the news cycle churning with more lurid details of his life and post-life craziness.

I was reading Karl Malden's obituary at this time and was struck by the fact that he and Michael were born in the same town.** Karl drove a milk truck and went to theater school in Chicago. Then, as sometimes happens, he struck up friendships with people who went on to become significant artists. They included him in their productions, and in doing so formed a strong artistic alliance that led to a Tony and an Oscar for Karl. He got married – same woman, 70 years, and they actually lived together and had kids in the normal way. He won professional accolades and took a leadership position in the dramatic arts. He died at age 97 of natural causes.

There will be no simulcast of the funeral.
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** I grant you, this doesn't mean they are directly comparable. Richard Pryor and I were born in the same town. The similarity pretty much ends there.

 

Pharmacy sign adjacent to long security queue line:

“Have your blood pressure checked”

Best Department of Motor Vehicles Experience I've Had in All My Moves: Griffin, Georgia.

Yep. That's right. Today it took me about 20 minutes to exchange my South Carolina license** for a Peach State one. And the service was pleasant and efficient.

The little Driver Services bureau, located in the same building as the Georgia State Police, was festooned with posters and signs that the workers had made. They had posted their values, or customer service commitment, and also had colorful pictures of themselves as cheerleaders.

I commented on this to the branch manager and told her I was impressed. "We do a cheer every morning," she explained. Apparently this was the brainchild of the DS head honcho, who witnessed a daily cheer at another business [note: it was NOT Wal-Mart, but I cannot remember what the business was]. He then instructed DS bureaus across Georgia to follow suit.

"At first we kind of rolled our eyes about it," the manager explained. "But now it really does get us going. Sometimes the troopers come over and do the cheer with us."

It seemed like a pleasant place to work, with good team spirit. Go-o-o-o-o-o-o y'all!___________________________
** You thought I was going to hand over my UK license? Not a chance. They'll have to pry that hard-won baby from my cold dead fingers.