Archives
July 2000
July 1 --- E-mail Link Someone whose work I read often complained yesterday on his site about people who write online not answering e-mail sent to them by readers. Well, I don't think he has a whole lot of room to complain---it's now July 1; I wrote him in April, and am still waiting (not holding breath here) to hear from him. There is an autoresponder activated whenever one sends him correspondence, so that my note got that far was acknowldeged. Whether or not it was ever read by human eyes, damned if I know! He doesn't get a link here, because I'd like to give him benefit of the doubt.
Why had I written in April? Well, he had written an entry saying he'd love to get more feedback....
***********
I got a misdirected e-mail a while back. I could tell it wasn't spam; the sender was letting a group know that a progress report on their project was ready and could be sent. There were five or six names on his list of recipients. Beside my e-mail address was a name not at all familiar to me. In an attempt to be helpful to at least two people, I wrote the sender to advise him of the error. In his response to me, he asked if I wasn't the man to whom he had sent the message, why was I using Mr. X's e-mail address, which he was sure was right because the Naval Reserve Office had given it to him. The tone of his reply was really pissy, but I answered it anyway. I suggested the possibility of a typo! He didn't reply, and I got another report-ready note about six weeks later. I just ignored that one. For all I know, Mr. X is waiting for the first report.
***********
I subscribed last summer to a couple of business-related newsletters, to be sent by e-mail. It vaguely annoys me when I get a notice that says "Rebecca, your newsletter is ready!" Not just because I think it's trite to use someone's first name in that context, either. No, more because I can't decipher the sender from the (truncated) return address. Hey, folks! Want me to read your newsletter? Tell me it's your newsletter! I really am smart enough to figure out it's ready when I get it in my mailbox!
***********
When I get e-mail asking me to send it on to x-number of people, including the person who sent it to me, I don't. Invariably, I don't know that many more people to whom that message would be appropriate, and I'm not at all sure the people who've sent these to me really want another copy of whatever. I'd much rather just send a brief "Thanks for the thought; I like you, too" to the sender. That lets me acknowledge the sentiment expressed without the forwarding marks!
Someone online who is good about answering e-mail is Michael, whose "Road Trip" took a detour to nuclear medicine. (Sorry, the link is gone because the site is gone.)
July 2 --- Brunch with TeKay Link A new friend came into my life courtesy of online journals a couple of weeks ago. TeKay (yes, spelling counts) has had a journal for several years now, though for a bit he's been doing e-mail-only entries (as in, join his notify list and you get to read them). But check his site for the archived things there.
We've been chatting by instant messages pretty much daily, and since we could both take a Sunday afternoon for ourselves, we made plans to get together for brunch this afternoon, at my favorite restaurant, Breadmen's in Chapel Hill (sorry, no website).
I can tell you that he has a lovely speaking voice. I know he's a singer, but I haven't had the pleasure of hearing him sing. Somehow forcing a performance in the parking lot seemed a tad much!
We didn't seem to let the fact we've never met before get in the way of conversation! Lots of it was about the journals we read. We went on to talk about the fact that we're both quite fond of North Carolina (both natives) and will always call it "home." We also talked about the the dreams and aspirations we have for our futures. I'd say he's well on the road to making his come true.
I took my camera...
July 3 --- eBay Blues Link I'm having the eBay blues. What I'm not having is any luck at all selling my crocheted bag on eBay. Either this is not the correct market for my work, or all my prospective buyers are on vacation, or there will be a real run on it in the last 90 seconds of the bidding period. Whatever the case, I'm planning to try craft sales elsewhere next auction.
How this got started: several members of a crafters' group to which I belong have had such good luck selling their handmade items on eBay that I thought I'd try. So I got a picture all ready, wrote out my item description, and started merrily down the road to hell.
It was supposed to be SO easy! The freeware ad-making program was going to let me have a nifty colored background for my scintillating prose. And using the ad's template, I could place the picture where I thought it best (centered was my choice). All I had to do was upload the picture to my service provider's FTP space. Now I've done this another couple of times, and it's worked fine. Not last week! Nope, the FTP server apparently burped in mid-upload, and all that got to the space was part of the filename and an incorrect size. Of course, no error message popped up. When did I find out this picture wasn't there? When I tried to view the item AFTER the auction had started.
I made two attempts to fix it, then decided to take a break before trying again. I was almost ready to amend my ad text and offer to send the picture via e-mail attachment to anyone who wanted to see it. And I was beginning to be sorry I had ever learned how to crochet.
During the break time, I found another place to "park" the picture, though it didn't work exactly right with the ad-making program. Suddenly the ad text had moved over to the right side of the web page, with the picture's click-through to its left. Okay, though, mission accomplished and the picture was viewable. I could go to sleep and let the bidding begin. Which it hasn't, but you know that.
A couple of days later, in the course of answering e-mail regarding the FTP foulup, I decided on a lark to see if I could upload the picture to the ISP's space. Of course it worked this time.
It was too late at night to scream out loud without accidentally summoning the police.
July 4 --- Fireworks Link It's the Fourth of July, and many people celebrate the United States of America's birthday with fireworks, either in their own yards or at community celebrations.
I am skipping the local display of fireworks this year. My legs are too long.
I've always enjoyed fireworks. I love the pretty colors and patterns emerging. But I had never been up close when they were set off until I went with some friends to the local display a couple of years ago. In my town, holiday fireworks are connected to a musical presentation, and held in a football stadium.
I had only been to the stadium one other time, for a graduation. On that occasion, I had worn a skirt, and had realized that the seats were miserably uncomfortable if one had to pay attention to modest leg positioning. But for July 4, shorts and a t-shirt were the attire. Knowing that I wouldn't have to sit so correctly was a large factor in my accepting the invitation.
We arrived early, and had a really good place to sit. But then the rainstorm came. When it started, we moved, along with everyone else, to an area where the seats were under an overhang. And that's where we stayed for the rest of the evening, though I wish we had moved after the rain stopped.
There was a woman seated in front of me who was in a particularly chatty mood. Her friends were scattered through the crowd. So she kept turning from one side to the other to greet and chat. The problem for me was her ponytail. It was a very short one, and in addition to the ponytail holder, she had covered the thing with hair lacquer to hold it in place. For the uninitiated, hair lacquer is industrial-strength hairspray, and could be used to glue buildings together.
Every time she moved her head, the ponytail smacked me in the knee. I tried moving my legs, but it was futile. That ponytail was gonna smack me. So I resigned myself to having lacquer bits on my leg, and tried to enjoy the pre-fireworks concert.
As soon as those in charge decided it was time to set off the fireworks, I realized exactly how much I wanted outta there. Because of the overhang, the noise from the explosions was incredibly loud. And the swivel-headed woman was getting more and more into bopping from side to side. We finally stood up for the finale, and thanks to the humidity, I got the pleasure of my final indignity of the night: having my face coated with residue from the fireworks.
That just doesn't happen when you watch fireworks on tv!
July 5 --- Watching What You Say Link There are some sayings that I disagree with. The one on my mind today is the one about how sticks and stones may break bones but words won't hurt. Guess what! The potential that anyone will hurt me with a stick or a stone is pretty minimal. But someone hurting me with words is a possibility out there every day.
And yesterday I saw words wounding someone I care about. It's entirely possible that in the ensuing hours he has healed some, but I'm angry on his behalf, because it made less pretty an otherwise lovely day for him. A day that should have been umblemished.
Once you say something out loud, or on paper, or by having it show up on a web page, it's said. If you've made some error, you will have a very hard time retracting it, if it's possible at all. And if you've hurled a spurious accusation, you'll wind up looking bad.
I'm suggesting caution here, not censorship. Caution in how you air your opinion, and caution in your choice of words. I'm suggesting that you be sure of the facts before hurling accusations. I'm asking you to watch what you say. It will make your life much easier. You'll have fewer things to regret or try to repair. And a well-stated point is likely to earn you some respect.
If you disagree with someone, fine. We don't all share the same point of view. But please frame your disagreement in ways that show respect for the other person's humanity.
Otherwise, you'll look a lot less like a complete human, and more like a complete jackass.
If, that is, anyone bothers to look.
July 6 --- Hard News Link I had planned to tell you at some point about the first person I ever made friends with online. But tonight I just heard really hard news about his mother, Debbie. I'm going to write about her, instead, and ask your thoughts and prayers.
Some of you may have met Debbie under the AOL screenname SCRYBOOK. It's in honor of her love of scary books. If you were in her online address book, you've probably already received this news.
Debbie is dying. She was diagnosed last year with a rare form of lung cancer (she's a never-smoker). The news tonight is that her doctors have discontinued treatment except for pain relief, and they are saying she won't live more than another 90 days. Her family doesn't think she has that long. She's in a lot of pain, and is exhausted.
I met Debbie just under two years ago, when I went to Washington, D.C., to join in her birthday celebration at her son's. The family lives in southern California. In addition to her son, Debbie has two daughters and three grandchildren. She and her husband observed their thirty-first wedding anniversary in June.
She was every bit as much fun in person as she had been in instant messages. (One really funnny series of pictures I took was of Debbie feeding airline peanuts to a squirrel on the Mall.) I'm so glad we had that chance to get together; future trip plans had to be cancelled.
I also have heard great stories of what a wonderful, supportive, loving mother she is. I can attest to the fact that she's a caring person.
If you know Debbie somehow, and would like to send a message to her, that would be appreciated. I've offered to be the message-collector, so you're welcome to send them to me. I am not sure if e-mail to SCRYBOOK is being read these days, but I'll be sure the messages get to her. (That also applies if you don't know her except through my eyes, but would like to send a greeting.)
And if you don't know her, please do me a favor and keep her and the family in your thoughts anyway. I lost my own mother a few years back, and I know how rough this is.
And this is yet another reminder to us all that life is too short. If you have been out of touch with someone you care about, get in touch. You're welcome to tell them I told you to call.
Thanks.
July 7 --- A Good Place to Go Link HTML is an interesting thing to be learning. I'm learning it for my own future web page use, and to help me be a better proofreader of websites. I have found it to be a very logical thing---every bit of code you type in causes a very specific thing to happen---which has made it easier for me to work with. You can look at the code and see pretty quickly what's wrong if the page you're working on looks bizarre when viewed in your browser!
I'm doing the coding for these entries as a means of practice, by the way.
Most of what I know of HTML is from a tutorial intended for beginners that's offered by one of the better writers online today. Saundra is a professional writer, who keeps a daily journal. Read her July 5 entry for her views on sharing her days. And read her biography, too, to learn more about her.
She has been most kind in offering the HTML tutorial and other goodies in her Extras section.
All these things may be found by following the links from her main page, by the way.
Take some time to explore Saundra's Headspace. It's worth every minute you'll spend there, and is indeed a good place to go.
* * * * * * * * * *
My thanks to those who have been in touch regarding my friend Debbie. I sent a note this afternoon, noting the concern expressed. I will share information I receive.
July 8 --- Life is Too Short Link A couple of days ago, I ended an entry with a comment about life being too short, and suggesting keeping in touch with people. And that made me think of a couple of times the notion of the shortness of life hit me.
About 15 years ago I changed jobs, going from one non-profit agency to another. The first day I was at work at Agency 2, I was given a tour of the building by my boss. He introduced me to a lady doing volunteer work, Ms. P. I recognized her distinctive name, because we had a mutual acquaintance from her hometown. But the building tour was already lagging behind a bit, so I decided to save my anecdote regarding our mutual acquaintance for a day when things were less hectic.
The anecdote I wanted to share was that the acquaintance had played tour guide for me when I visited friends in her town. When she found out where my home was, she asked me to call Ms. P. and give her the acquaintance's regards. Well, I made the call, but got Ms. P.'s housesitter. I left a message that didn't need returning, and felt that I had carried out the acquaintance's request.
I never got the chance to tell her. Ms. P. died unexpectedly, later the same week. Obviously my little story wasn't of critical importance, to me or to her, but that I would never have a chance to tell her stayed with me.
Apparently I needed reminding. A 1999 Christmas greeting from an acquaintance arrived after I had left for my holiday vacation time. I didn't get it till mid-January, when I returned. I was a little too busy getting back into my daily grind to do New Year's greetings, so I put her card in my to-do stack, to remind me to send an Easter greeting, which I did send.
A week or so after Easter, I got a phone call asking if I were the Becky who had sent Anne the card. Upon hearing the "yes," my caller introduced herself as Anne's sister. She was sorry to have to tell me that Anne had died unexpectedly in late January.
The point? Well, if you have an anecdote to tell, or a greeting card to send, do it. Don't wait.
And in case you've wondered, that's why I usually answer e-mail the day I get it.
July 9 --- Loveliest Link I have always loved topaz. It's my birthstone, and I have several rings with topaz stones. I found out about blue topaz a little ahead of its fad time, and have a light blue topaz ring that I wear every day.
A little over four years ago, my mother died. As we were making plans for her funeral, one of my friends told me she had just read a comment that in King John's time, topaz was used as a talisman against intolerable grief. She thought of my topaz-wearing habit when she saw the comment, and wanted to make sure I knew.
That piece of information I kept to myself for a while. But one afternoon, talking with the person whose soul most closely mirrors mine, I happened to mention it. My soul-companion's response was, "Becky, you are my topaz."
And that simple sentence is the loveliest thing anyone has ever said to me.
I hope I'm being topaz to him now. He's Tom, the son of Debbie. I told you about her in this entry.
He is also the first person I ever met online and wound up friends with. We met one Sunday night playing Slingo on AOL. After all the other players had gone away, we quit the game and started chatting on Instant Message, and stayed up till our eyes were too bleary to make sense of the screen. And thus started our friendship.
After that, there were many late-night chats. The similarities between us soon became more obvious. They were much stronger than any differences. I've forgotten when he first called me his soul-companion, but he was right. That's who we are to each other.
Writing e-mail to him became the replacement for my journal---I guess that's one reason online journals' existence makes sense to me. Eventually circumstances limited his computer time, so we started using the phone when we could. And I started having Instant Message conversations with Debbie, to whom Tom introduced me.
But it was all right if we weren't in actual touch, because another thing we realized early on was that we had an ESP connection. Yes, I'm aware that sounds strange to some people, but it's real and you'll just need to trust me on this.
Eventually we met, and I don't think either of us were surprised. He was exactly the person I had thought I was going to meet. And I hadn't attempted to keep secrets from him---after all, we were sharing a soul.
My soul-companion knows that these days, when there's so much wrong, that there's an arm always around his shoulder, holding him close to my ear, my own shoulder, and my heart.
And should you ever meet him, you'll recognize him instantly. He's the loveliest person on earth.
* * * * * * * * * * *
I promised I would share information: Tom told me via Instant Message this afternoon that the doctors are predicting that Debbie will only live about another week.
July 10 --- Proper Names Link My name is Rebecca. I frequently ask people to call me Becky, or introduce myself as such, in social situations. In formal situations, I usually stay with Rebecca. You're welcome to call me either of them.
I've had trouble with my name a lot in my life. Well, I haven't, but other people certainly have! My mother started out calling me by a different nickname, which I hated, so I won't share it. I started (at age 8) asking people to call me either Rebecca or Becky. Either one was fine. And the hated nickname has all but disappeared (a couple of cousins still can't get it right all the time, but they get major points for trying).
Next problem was the surname. My dad died when I was very young, and several years later, my mother remarried. My stepfather didn't adopt me, so there was no legal reason to change my surname to his. And since musical little me didn't like how that surname sounded with my first name, I didn't. (Just as well; the marriage ended in divorce.) But half the people who knew us figured that his name was now mine. I got mail addressed incorrectly for years.
And it is a mistaken notion that "all" Southerners have what are known as "double first names." You've heard them---Billy Bob, Betty Sue. I've had people try to add a second name to mine. If it's a friend making a joke, I usually enjoy it. But if that's not the case, I stop the person, using a tone of voice that leaves no doubt that doing this again is not wise.
I like being called Becky. Or Rebecca. But I don't particularly want to be called Beck, or Becca. Nice names, but not "my" name. I once dated someone who thought he would call me Becca to make the point that he had a place in my life that no one else had. He said as much when he called me that the first time. He dropped the notion quickly when I told him that variation was old to me.
I never have understood how a person comes to the conclusion that it is appropriate to rename another adult, without that person's consent. Oh, sometimes nicknames make sense, for sports stars, etc. But not in real life---then assigning nicknames often backfires. An example: a friend of mine is named Charles. He isn't Charlie, and he sure isn't Chuck. But someone he worked with persistently called him Chuck, apparently thinking that his renaming Charles made him seem somehow more important. But since no one (including Charles) could figure out who the idiot wanted if he asked to speak to Chuck, he finally had to give it up.
Since I feel strongly about being called by my preferred name(s), I am certainly happy to call other people whatever they wish to be called. If you want to lose a nickname, make sure I'm among the first to know---I'll help you correct people.
What happens if you call me by a name I don't claim as mine? Easy---you get ignored!
* * * * * * * * * *
My heart is with the people written of here and here. Thanks to all for your continuing thoughts and prayers.
July 11 --- Annoyances Link I'm tired today. The following awards are hereby presented to annoyances I'm really tired OF:
--Most annoying repetitive message in e-mail: the one that begins, "This mail is never sent unsolicited...." My problem with it isn't the fact that it's announcing the arrival of borderline spam, but that the message about it not being pure spam takes up the whole screen, so I have to scroll down to see what the sender wants me to understand isn't unsolicited.
--Most annoying thing happening in my part of the e-world: a couple of discussion groups, run through the same service, are getting mail sent out of synch, so the beginning of a thread shows up several hours/days after the responses have been given. Questions-after-answers was a funny routine for Johnny Carson, and works well on "Jeopardy." But not here.
--Most annoying sound: the fanfare my local tv station uses EVERY time the meteorologist announces the checking of the Doppler Radar System. This is especially annoying if the cues are a shade off, and the fanfare and meteorologist are sounding at the same time. No, this has nothing to do with severe weather warnings, it also happens when there's no rain in the coverage area, to show the lack of rain.
July 12 --- Short Takes on Food Link One of the nice things about being single is the freedom to have meals at weird times, and to have single-ingredient meals if that's what you want. No one's going to mind! But it gets a little complicated when interacting with people who schedule potlucks, for example. I remember a church potluck dinner where the instructions regarding how much and what to bring were: "enough for yourself and one other person, and bring whatever you'd normally have for Sunday supper." Well, at my place those days, Sunday supper was usually a bowl of popcorn. No, I didn't. I think I went for fast-food chicken.
***********
Same dinner: a family of four made sure to follow the instruction: they brought five cupcakes for dessert.
***********
Although I'm a fairly decent cook, what I usually feel about meal preparation is that I'd rather be the person playing piano while someone else cooks. A cousin of mine takes that one step further: she'd rather be the person listening to the pianist while a third person cooks.
***********
My mother was a good cook, but never cared much for cakes and cookies and other baked desserts. She rarely made them. So once when she for some reason had to bake brownies, I got a phone call asking for help. I could tell she was having a bad day with the whole thing when I realized what she needed help with was following the directions on the package of brownie mix. She enjoyed telling this story on herself, by the way.
July 13 --- Rest in Peace Link My friend Debbie died yesterday. For her, the struggle is over. For those who survive, it has a new dimension.
I ask that you send thoughts and prayers on behalf of those who mourn her loss. And I thank all who have sent messages to me. That you have done so has been conveyed to her family, and any that come will be passed along. (For the background on this, please check here and here.)
Rest in peace, Debbie. We who were fortunate enough to share moments with you were blessed by your presence. You will be remembered long, dear friend.
July 14 --- Thoughts on Grief Link Today I'm sad, and tired. I've cried till I have a headache from it. And I will cry more before this grief eases.
I was looking for a quotation last night, to share with those mourning Debbie. I decided to quit the search, because nearly everything I found instructed people to weep no more, which is not the sentiment I want to convey. I'm in favor of shedding tears when things hurt. Tears are healing. They have a way of washing away some of the sadness, and allowing moments of joy to surface and be seen with great clarity.
This recent loss has caused me to think back over the grieving process in depth, which I haven't done for a couple of years. I had written a letter then, to a friend who was grieving, and who was surprised at the strength of the grief. Writing that letter helped me clarify the thoughts that I've had about the subject over the years.
Grief is intensely personal. Every one of us experiences it differently. But there are some close-to-universals about it that seem to be true for most in grief.
Never be embarrassed about grief. It is human, and comes to us all. There is no one day when you should be over a loss. Grief will ease, but in its time.
Grief is work. It is tiring, and requires lots of energy. That's one reason you need to go ahead and try to eat, even if you're not hungry; and rest, even if sleep is elusive.
A very real factor of grief is anger. Anger at the person whose not being there caused the grief (doesn't matter why the person is gone), anger at God, anger at yourself, and anger at whatever. This is sometimes surprisingly strong. But it is normal and healthy.
Grief is also a sneaky think. Just when you think it has eased, and you'll have a "normal" day, something comes along that makes grief kick in. You run across something that reminds you of your loss, and it's as though you've been slapped. This is also normal, and to be expected. And don't forget this frequently happens on anniversaries.
And what should you do if it's not your grief, but that of someone you care about? Easy. Tell the person you're sorry for their loss. Don't worry about perhaps having a lack of eloquence. Practice the "ministry of presence." Be there. Be open to allowing the grieving person to talk about the loss. And it's okay if you say something that brings tears. But also be willing to be present in silence. Sometimes that's the hardest gift to give.
* * * * * * * * * * *
I would like to express appreciation to all who have sent condolences at the loss of my friend. I have taken much solace from them, and have collected them to share with her family.
July 15 --- Neighbors Link When there's been a death, the one thing that has always made it a bit more bearable for me is the comforting thoughts and support of others. It makes the hole in my life not feel quite so big.
You wonderful people who have written to me in the days since I told you about my friend Debbie have helped so much. I have sent one batch of condolences to her family, and even as I was clicking my "send" button, more notes were arriving. Those will be sent soon. If you'd like to add a thought, please do.
I thank you for myself, and for the family. You have shown me again that the best thing about the Web is the drawing together of people. I will write more about this in the days to come.
* * * * * * * * * * *
On a happier note, I'm going to send you to meet a neighbor who will be celebrating an anniversary tomorrow. Sandy's "Dirt Road Ramblin'" will be a year old. You're all invited to celebrate with her, and no dressing up is required. (NOTE: that journal is no longer available; Sandy now has A Circle of Quiet.)
I live not too many counties away from Sandy, and have enjoyed hearing her stories of life in her North Carolina countryside. I tend to read this journal after supper, when I'm having coffee. I told Sandy the first time I wrote that her journal was a warm, comfortable place to come. I think you'll find it that way, too.