By: Karen White-Walker
1950s---We came of age on the swivel of his hips and that sexy sneer that was supposed to break down all our defenses of remaining pure and innocent. Speaking from the pulpits were the religious zealots warning parents not to allow their young impressionable daughters to tune in to the Ed Sullivan Show. I could clearly see why. Ed Sullivan was a terribly unattractive man and the way he moved his mouth, it was enough to scare any young girl. Oh, that wasnt it? No, he was introducing a young performer whose nickname was Elvis the pelvis, and this devils advocate was in danger of corrupting our morals. Back then parents believed everything the priests preached, so there would be no 13- inch black- and- white screen for me that evening. I tell ya, if anybody ever tells you those were the good ole days, they werent for Elvis fans forbidden to see his gyrations. Come Monday morning the news reported that the cameras only showed the singer from the waist up, a decent exposure and Mom and Dad looked so remorseful you would have thought somebody had died.
Will you ever forgive us? Mom tearfully sniffed.
No, absolutely not, never! I quickly replied.
How can we ever make it up to you? she tenderly asked.
I sensed that I had my mother right where I wanted her and for a 13 year old, that was a very heady feeling.
You cant. Some things can never be undone.
Unfortunately my dramatic snippy attitude dissolved my dads remorse---in a hurry! I didnt have him where I wanted him. You better change your tone, young lady, or that Elvis character will NEVER be allowed in this house!
Dad spoke as if the most popular person in the world would personally enter into my life. Well
1972---My parents eventually became an Elvis fan too, believing that he wasnt a threat to anyone, enjoying his beautiful mellow voice, and recognizing a shy, humble streak in his demeanor.
A giddy girl transforms into a woman when marriage, pregnancy and responsibilities knock her off her feet. She regresses for a moment when her parents present her with an Elvis live-in-concert tickets in their attempt to make retribution for not allowing her, 25 years ago, to see a certain Ed Sullivan Show. They didnt realize that the orange section of the mammoth arena was the worst in the house, so far up, my ears began popping and, being nine months pregnant, I couldnt handle my fear of heights, so I began stumbling down closer to land. A policeman spotted my bloated belly, grabbed a folding chair, and there I was, so close to the stage, to the star, to a dream.
Remember, no jumping, screaming, fainting, or going into labor, he weakly warned.
Youd have to be comatose not to have felt the excitement and electricity in the air when Elvis appeared. It was thrilling when he sang but, for him, a little on the thirsty side because he gestured for a glass of water and, after taking a few sips, he unexpectedly flung the water over his shoulder and wham, right smack in my face! It was just a few sprinkles, but enough to straighten my curled eyelashes. For a fleeting second, our eyes met and Id like to believe the gaze lasted longer than it did. And to think, my parents worried about from the waist down. Trust me, its all in the eyes.
To read Karens previous columns, please go to homegrownharvard.blogspot.com
Thursday, January 7. 2010
Do You Know How To Do These Things?
Just move into your new place and want to hang that picture of you climbing up Mount Everest with two of your closest friends?
Well, with a little step-by-step instruction you can hang that picture, without anyones help.
In a recent article on NBCs Today Shows Web site, it gives you instructions on the nine things that every woman needs to know. I dont know about you, but I was never keen on being a domestic diva and cringed at the thought of having to do my own housework and cooking if I ever moved out of my moms house. The instructions on how to do the nine things are explicitly stated.
The first tip is dealing with a fallen button. I took home economics in middle school. I was taught the basics; how to make scrambled eggs, how to iron a button down shirt (not very good though, but I passed), and how to sew a straight line if something ripped. My mom taught me how to sew a button. Actually, I make memory boards so its pretty essential to know how to sew a button on the right way.
I dont know about you, but I certainly dont have basic thread colors, a needle and scissors in my purse. Maybe I should seriously consider adding it in though. I do have a tote size purse. The kind of tote that could fit a small child comfortably in it.
Tying a necktie.
In high school we had to wear ties when we performed in concert band. My mom tied those for me. So, I still have no clue how to tie a tie. I might want to brush up on those instructions for my future spouse.
Posture is a major thing. In the article it talks about ways to improve it. For Christmas I received a Wii Fit Plus. If that doesnt correct your posture I dont know what will.
Roasting a chicken makes the number five spot. Sorry, but even this is beyond my comprehension. Cooking a portion of a dinner is off my radar so Im not even going to attempt this one. There are too many steps and not enough time in the day. I would have to scratch shopping out of the picture and who wants to do that?
Learning a basic waltz. I cant dance. I took dancing lessons for five years and yet cannot dance to save my life. I am void of rhythm. I try, and it is not pretty. One of my friends though is trying to teach me a basic waltz I guess you could say. Baby steps.
How to mix the perfect martini is a piece of cake for me. I grew up behind a bar. Next
Number seven is throwing a yard sale. Yard sales are popular around these neck of the woods so those of you who do not know how to hold one, can brush up on the steps in the article.
How to compost is number eight. Since Im a suburban girl this will never be an option for me and Im really not sure why its the top nine things to learn. I definitely will not be digging out my overalls and taking part in learning this one.
The last one is building a fire. Let me tell you about building a fire, its not easy. A few years ago one of my friends, Christy, and I went up to my step grandparents cabin in Stockton, New York. We wanted to be adventurous and start a fire.
We put some wood on, some newspapers and kept lighting matches. Several went out before they hit the pile intended for fire, but the ones that worked smoldered out and did not create a fire. Christy and I must have gone through almost the entire box of matches. Moral of the story, if you want to survive in the middle of the woods, dont take us on a trip with you, and there is your tip of the day.
Visit the informative articles at, http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/34735094/ns/today-today_health/.
Well, with a little step-by-step instruction you can hang that picture, without anyones help.
In a recent article on NBCs Today Shows Web site, it gives you instructions on the nine things that every woman needs to know. I dont know about you, but I was never keen on being a domestic diva and cringed at the thought of having to do my own housework and cooking if I ever moved out of my moms house. The instructions on how to do the nine things are explicitly stated.
The first tip is dealing with a fallen button. I took home economics in middle school. I was taught the basics; how to make scrambled eggs, how to iron a button down shirt (not very good though, but I passed), and how to sew a straight line if something ripped. My mom taught me how to sew a button. Actually, I make memory boards so its pretty essential to know how to sew a button on the right way.
I dont know about you, but I certainly dont have basic thread colors, a needle and scissors in my purse. Maybe I should seriously consider adding it in though. I do have a tote size purse. The kind of tote that could fit a small child comfortably in it.
Tying a necktie.
In high school we had to wear ties when we performed in concert band. My mom tied those for me. So, I still have no clue how to tie a tie. I might want to brush up on those instructions for my future spouse.
Posture is a major thing. In the article it talks about ways to improve it. For Christmas I received a Wii Fit Plus. If that doesnt correct your posture I dont know what will.
Roasting a chicken makes the number five spot. Sorry, but even this is beyond my comprehension. Cooking a portion of a dinner is off my radar so Im not even going to attempt this one. There are too many steps and not enough time in the day. I would have to scratch shopping out of the picture and who wants to do that?
Learning a basic waltz. I cant dance. I took dancing lessons for five years and yet cannot dance to save my life. I am void of rhythm. I try, and it is not pretty. One of my friends though is trying to teach me a basic waltz I guess you could say. Baby steps.
How to mix the perfect martini is a piece of cake for me. I grew up behind a bar. Next
Number seven is throwing a yard sale. Yard sales are popular around these neck of the woods so those of you who do not know how to hold one, can brush up on the steps in the article.
How to compost is number eight. Since Im a suburban girl this will never be an option for me and Im really not sure why its the top nine things to learn. I definitely will not be digging out my overalls and taking part in learning this one.
The last one is building a fire. Let me tell you about building a fire, its not easy. A few years ago one of my friends, Christy, and I went up to my step grandparents cabin in Stockton, New York. We wanted to be adventurous and start a fire.
We put some wood on, some newspapers and kept lighting matches. Several went out before they hit the pile intended for fire, but the ones that worked smoldered out and did not create a fire. Christy and I must have gone through almost the entire box of matches. Moral of the story, if you want to survive in the middle of the woods, dont take us on a trip with you, and there is your tip of the day.
Visit the informative articles at, http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/34735094/ns/today-today_health/.
Driving Me Toward Divorce
By: Karen White-Walker
The real reason most families own at least two vehicles is not to flaunt that theyre rich enough to buy all that gas, but that husbands and wives should never ever be allowed in the same car at the same time. Is it just us, or do other couples start fighting even before they back out of the driveway? On very rare occasions Im allowed behind the wheel, but heres the kicker---its MY car. My husband not only buckles up his seatbelt, but the second I turn the key, he immediately puts a death grip around the strap thats dangling from the side door thats just inches from his head.
If this strap was any longer and could fit around my neck, it could dub as a noose, he mutters to himself, but loud enough for me to hear. Already the mood and desire has been set---to commit murder! If I dont turn the wheel while the car is still in motion as I back out, he claims Im ruining the tires. Turn those wheels! hell yell, and already theres potential for an accident, because my nerves are shattered. Hey, I dont profess to be a great driver, Im only saying that Im not the one responsible for our insurance rates to go up, up, up, and the faith in my husbands driving to go down, down, down. To soothe our nerves and deflate our hostility, Ill turn on the radio for some of that universal language---music. But I guess music cant compare to what my husband wants to hear---Tradio. Its on a local station where people phone in to sell their wares or business services and potential buyers have a few minutes to call in and buy. Were in a moving car, dont own cell phones, pay phones are obsolete, we cant call in, so whats the point?
Its better than listening to your Canadian station that plays the same old songs over and over, talks about Canadian news and gives the weather forecast in Celsius, he gripes.
I sure wish I was the type of woman who could keep my mouth shut, and not disgustingly roll my eyes back into my head. One must conserve all her energy for what lies ahead. The frightening experience for when he gets to drive safely home. Im not saying that when hes steering and looks to the right, thats the direction the car veers---hello mailboxes and ditches. Or, God help us if he notices something to the left, were practically kissing the on coming traffic. Its far worse when its raining, not because of slippery roads, its because the man has an aversion to turning on the windshield wipers.
I cant see anything, Ill cry.
You dont have to see anything, because Im the one driving, hell snap.
Is that what you call it? Ill tease, still trying to figure out why hes afraid to wear out the windshield blades. Is it because we cant afford to buy new ones, having all our money go on higher car insurance?
Hey, why do you brake on a green light and speed up on red? I innocently asked. And do you realize you drive faster in the parking lot than you do on the highway? Look, be careful, whats that car ahead of us doing?
The mans a maniac. He pulled over to the side of the road, whipped out his drivers license and shoved it under my nose.
Do you see a family portrait on this damn thing? he demanded. No! Only my picture and that means Im granted clearance to run these roads. And listen, no article about what goes on in this vehicle. Got it?
Of course, I softly replied.
I sure wish I was a woman of my word.
To read more of Karens previously published articles, please visit homegrownharvard.blogspot.com
The real reason most families own at least two vehicles is not to flaunt that theyre rich enough to buy all that gas, but that husbands and wives should never ever be allowed in the same car at the same time. Is it just us, or do other couples start fighting even before they back out of the driveway? On very rare occasions Im allowed behind the wheel, but heres the kicker---its MY car. My husband not only buckles up his seatbelt, but the second I turn the key, he immediately puts a death grip around the strap thats dangling from the side door thats just inches from his head.
If this strap was any longer and could fit around my neck, it could dub as a noose, he mutters to himself, but loud enough for me to hear. Already the mood and desire has been set---to commit murder! If I dont turn the wheel while the car is still in motion as I back out, he claims Im ruining the tires. Turn those wheels! hell yell, and already theres potential for an accident, because my nerves are shattered. Hey, I dont profess to be a great driver, Im only saying that Im not the one responsible for our insurance rates to go up, up, up, and the faith in my husbands driving to go down, down, down. To soothe our nerves and deflate our hostility, Ill turn on the radio for some of that universal language---music. But I guess music cant compare to what my husband wants to hear---Tradio. Its on a local station where people phone in to sell their wares or business services and potential buyers have a few minutes to call in and buy. Were in a moving car, dont own cell phones, pay phones are obsolete, we cant call in, so whats the point?
Its better than listening to your Canadian station that plays the same old songs over and over, talks about Canadian news and gives the weather forecast in Celsius, he gripes.
I sure wish I was the type of woman who could keep my mouth shut, and not disgustingly roll my eyes back into my head. One must conserve all her energy for what lies ahead. The frightening experience for when he gets to drive safely home. Im not saying that when hes steering and looks to the right, thats the direction the car veers---hello mailboxes and ditches. Or, God help us if he notices something to the left, were practically kissing the on coming traffic. Its far worse when its raining, not because of slippery roads, its because the man has an aversion to turning on the windshield wipers.
I cant see anything, Ill cry.
You dont have to see anything, because Im the one driving, hell snap.
Is that what you call it? Ill tease, still trying to figure out why hes afraid to wear out the windshield blades. Is it because we cant afford to buy new ones, having all our money go on higher car insurance?
Hey, why do you brake on a green light and speed up on red? I innocently asked. And do you realize you drive faster in the parking lot than you do on the highway? Look, be careful, whats that car ahead of us doing?
The mans a maniac. He pulled over to the side of the road, whipped out his drivers license and shoved it under my nose.
Do you see a family portrait on this damn thing? he demanded. No! Only my picture and that means Im granted clearance to run these roads. And listen, no article about what goes on in this vehicle. Got it?
Of course, I softly replied.
I sure wish I was a woman of my word.
To read more of Karens previously published articles, please visit homegrownharvard.blogspot.com
Friday, January 1. 2010
As Happy As Your Unhappiest Child
By: Karen White-Walker
Tell one of your kids that you would prefer that they complete college before enlisting in the Armed Forces, and theyll break both their legs running to the recruiting office. Or request that they be practical in selecting a career, one that offers job security and a decent wage, and there they are---trying out for American Idol or joining the circus.
I tell you, things never turn out quite like we planned, huh? And sometimes even their plans have gone awry.
Yes, Ive had my share of sheer joy, but its often off set by my wishing I owned stock in the Kleenex Company. Forget about crying a river---more like crying an ocean---all seven of them.
Why is it that the very last thing you ever could imagine comes to pass? I mean, a school administrator has a child who drops out of school, a police captain has a family member who commits murder, the ugly duckling of your graduating class turns out to be drop-dead gorgeous and youre standing next to her for the class reunion photo, and a local writer with a weekly Tuesday newspaper column has a beloved child who has made poor choices and taken a few detours in life. The irony is that of all my children, this one has the personality that blends the most beautifully with mine. I can act like a real jerk and unconditionally this one accepts me for who and what I am. Have I afforded this person the same privilege? Not even remotely. This child can act like a real dopey dork and Ill jump twenty feet in the air and scream and yell until they can probably hear me in the next county. Of course Im not proud for not having a firm grip on the situation, but you see, my lofty dreams for my children havent all been realized. And maybe they shouldnt be, because theyre my dreams, not theirs. When will we parents ever learn? Its been a long rough road, but if Im tired, how must they feel? Phenomenally popular in high school, I feel this one piqued and then felt there was no place to go but down. They say thats one of lifes tragedies---being a big fish in a small pond in your younger years and then faltering in the outside world. How many parents wish that they could take their childrens pain and hurt to spare them the agony, but didnt we have to shoulder our own suffering and look where it got us. Do I have to say? Actually, it has knocked me off my high horse when Ive felt I was invincible and instilled in me a deep compassion for the underdog.
Let them fall on their faces, the experts cry. If you coddle them youll be raising emotional cripples.
Does anybody know the difference between coddling and caring? If I slip a fifty in a birthday card, is that taking away their incentive to go to work on Monday? Look, if somebody gave me ten bucks Id be tempted to skip writing next weeks column. Dont think this isnt work!
If theyre driving on bald tires do I just look the other way and pray to the guardian angels to hover a little closer? I believe in angels, but I also believe in tires with terrific traction---so there goes $500.00.
Seems to me I should have some of the answers, but the truth is, I have none of the answers, so just like my one child who keeps plugging along, Im stumbling too.
A mother is only as happiest as her unhappiest child. Well, today Im very happy. My struggling offspring is inching his way toward the right road---angels be aware.
To read more of Karens previously published articles, please visit homegrownharvard.blogspot.com
Tell one of your kids that you would prefer that they complete college before enlisting in the Armed Forces, and theyll break both their legs running to the recruiting office. Or request that they be practical in selecting a career, one that offers job security and a decent wage, and there they are---trying out for American Idol or joining the circus.
I tell you, things never turn out quite like we planned, huh? And sometimes even their plans have gone awry.
Yes, Ive had my share of sheer joy, but its often off set by my wishing I owned stock in the Kleenex Company. Forget about crying a river---more like crying an ocean---all seven of them.
Why is it that the very last thing you ever could imagine comes to pass? I mean, a school administrator has a child who drops out of school, a police captain has a family member who commits murder, the ugly duckling of your graduating class turns out to be drop-dead gorgeous and youre standing next to her for the class reunion photo, and a local writer with a weekly Tuesday newspaper column has a beloved child who has made poor choices and taken a few detours in life. The irony is that of all my children, this one has the personality that blends the most beautifully with mine. I can act like a real jerk and unconditionally this one accepts me for who and what I am. Have I afforded this person the same privilege? Not even remotely. This child can act like a real dopey dork and Ill jump twenty feet in the air and scream and yell until they can probably hear me in the next county. Of course Im not proud for not having a firm grip on the situation, but you see, my lofty dreams for my children havent all been realized. And maybe they shouldnt be, because theyre my dreams, not theirs. When will we parents ever learn? Its been a long rough road, but if Im tired, how must they feel? Phenomenally popular in high school, I feel this one piqued and then felt there was no place to go but down. They say thats one of lifes tragedies---being a big fish in a small pond in your younger years and then faltering in the outside world. How many parents wish that they could take their childrens pain and hurt to spare them the agony, but didnt we have to shoulder our own suffering and look where it got us. Do I have to say? Actually, it has knocked me off my high horse when Ive felt I was invincible and instilled in me a deep compassion for the underdog.
Let them fall on their faces, the experts cry. If you coddle them youll be raising emotional cripples.
Does anybody know the difference between coddling and caring? If I slip a fifty in a birthday card, is that taking away their incentive to go to work on Monday? Look, if somebody gave me ten bucks Id be tempted to skip writing next weeks column. Dont think this isnt work!
If theyre driving on bald tires do I just look the other way and pray to the guardian angels to hover a little closer? I believe in angels, but I also believe in tires with terrific traction---so there goes $500.00.
Seems to me I should have some of the answers, but the truth is, I have none of the answers, so just like my one child who keeps plugging along, Im stumbling too.
A mother is only as happiest as her unhappiest child. Well, today Im very happy. My struggling offspring is inching his way toward the right road---angels be aware.
To read more of Karens previously published articles, please visit homegrownharvard.blogspot.com
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