I'll Take a Vowel for Global Domination!

I was listening to Kai Ryssdal on the radio yesterday...not your normal, everyday name...and started pondering the preponderance of one-syllable names among those in prominent positions. It would seem that lopping off a few letters is a great way to thrust one's self to the head of the crowd. Fourteen of our U.S. presidents have been one-syllable guys--with six Jameses, three Johns, and three Georges claiming the bulk of that territory. Sixteen others had monikers with a diminutive option, such as Abe, Bill, Ben, etc. Amazing.

So what's the appeal of a one-syllable name? Does that short, sharp bark represent quick thinking? Immediate action? Do we need an easy out for those whose names roll constantly off our tongues? Does short on syllables mean long on dependability? Romance novel protaganists invariably have short names: Luke, Lance, Chase, Chad, Blaine, Brock, etc. Are one-syllable suitors sexier?

I read that, historically, parents have given their sons one syllable names because that was indeed believed to be a precursor to power and success. Daughters, on the other hand, were given voluptuous, multi-syllabic names because they sound more feminine and flowing. Apparently, we're still following that tradition,because, aside from Cher (who began life as Cherilyn), two- and three-syllable names are the norm for gals in both the entertainment and political spotlight. Of course, Oprah has "O" Magazine; I'm wondering...will she have to fight for her vowel once Obama takes up residence on Pennsylvania Avenue and needs a power-packing, headline-grabbing single syllable name? We'll see.

Random Rants

• As discussed in depth in my last post, I love Christmas music. And I think it's nifty that Baby Jesus gets so much air time during the month of December. But could some program director, somewhere, PUH-LEEZE!, explain why, when every recording artist who's ever held a microphone has recorded a Christmas album, radio stations play the same twenty songs over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over? One of the two Greenville stations playing 24/7 Christmas gets points for adding "I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas" this year, but I'm still waiting for the Andrews Sisters' "Angie the Christmas Tree Angel," "Pretty Little Dolly" by Mona Abboud, Harvey Danger's "Sometimes You Have to Work on Christmas," or Barenaked Ladies " Elf's Lament." Come on, deejays; how many times can we listen to Amy Grant sing "Sleigh Ride"and stay sane??!!
• So Oprah weighs 200 pounds. WHO CARES?! Is she still smart? Yes. Still beautiful? Yes. Still generous, and funny, and a great role model? Yes. NONE of those qualities is even remotely related to weight and to denigrate her because she's not a size 10 is demeaning to women everywhere. I don't like Oprah's taste in books and I liked her better when she wasn't a gazillionaire, but she's an amazing woman and a stunning example of overcoming adversity. To measure her worth by her girth is prejudice at its ugliest.
  
  
• WHAT IN THE WORLD WILL WE DO WITHOUT ALAN AND DENNY? The only show I have watched on television for the past three years is "Boston Legal." It wasn't for the meek or the innocent, to be sure, but the razor-sharp dialogue, in-your-face challenges to bad behavior by pharmaceutical companies, credit card companies, and others who prey on the vulnerable, beautiful friendship between two male, wholly heterosexual (to a fault!) friends, and sheer outrageousness of Denny Crain's take-no-prisoners approach to life made this show a joy to watch. I respect the needs of those involved to move on, but I mourn...oh, how I mourn...the demise of Crain, Poole, and Schmidt. Amid the brainless blather on television these days, Shirley and her boys were a fresh breath of brilliance.



• Are there people really dumb enough to waste time opening e-mails dated 12/20/38???? Is postdating an e-mail by thirty years actually an effective marketing ploy for spammers? Perhaps it preys on the all-too-often-proven theory that people don't read, which is apparently how ice cream and sugar manufacturers decided they could weasel a pound out of their product without anyone noticing. (Note to manufacturers: we noticed.) All I know is, if you've put something in my mailbox that could only have been sent by the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, I have one word for you: DELETE!!

Well, gee, it feels good to get all that off my chest. But I can't stand to leave things on a negative note right here on the fringe of the first noel. So here's a list of good things to think about this week as we make our way toward Christmas Day. Write and tell me your favorite holiday things!

• Reading (or sending) a Christmas card and thinking about how much that person means to you
• Sitting by a fire, sipping hot cider and watching snow fall
• Singing carols, in harmony, on the front lawn of someone who doesn't expect it
• Having a houseful of guests you adore but don't get to be with very often
• Having the day off and getting to stay in your jammies all morning
• Walking through a mall or down a busy downtown street not to shop, but just to enjoy the sights and sounds
• Watching a children's Nativity pageant--the bathrobes and "Psst! Hi, Mom!" kind
• Sitting in the glow of the Christmas tree lights after everyone has gone to bed
• Seeing families on front lawns Christmas afternoon, testing out new bikes and skates and riding toys
• Playing pick-up football after Christmas dinner

Aren't you in a great mood now? :-)

Terminal Frustration

Okay, "automatic" is a grand concept, but I'm here to tell you there's work to be done before whoever invented automatic bathroom equipment gets to claim success. Not until you deal with automatic toilets, automatic soap dispensers, automatic faucets, and automatic paper towel dispensers in multiple airports in multiple cities in for multiple days do you realize that "automatic" is a relative term!



In Asheville, the toilets worked but the towels didn't. In Minneapolis, the towels worked, but the soap didn't. In Phoenix, the soap worked, but the faucets didn't. In San Diego, the faucets worked, but the toilets didn't. And who is the idiot who designed 99% of airport bathroom stall doors to open IN instead of out? Hello? Increasingly bigger carry-on luggage to haul in the stall with you? (See previous blog rant about that.) Add a toddler, a winter coat, or pantyhose to that mix and you have the kind of frustration that leads women to commit random acts of violence--like ripping the door off the hinges or--horrors!--boycotting all but the handicapped stalls. One of the many airports I've visited in recent weeks actually had stall doors that opened OUT, and what a happy surprise that was. I wish I could remember which one, so I could give due praise.



I do recall which airports had great art, however (yes, I realize that "great," when applied to art, is also a relative term), and given the fact that we are now obliged to spend many aimless hours wandering terminals in order to accommodate the "arrive 2 hours before your flight" command, a good art exhibit can make a big difference in being bored to death or reasonably entertained. Oakland currently has a fun display called "Artists as Collectors," which features everything from wedding photographs and magazines to blenders and dryer lint. Memphis has a series of close-up photographs of people that had me grinning all the way down the corrider (grinning + airport= really rare phenomenon these days). Would that Buffalo International had had something entertaining last spring when I got stuck there for six hours...but that's a whole other story.



Here's my last observation on airports: security staff on the West Coast is a lot nicer than security staff on the East Coast. Now, I have no problem taking off my shoes, peeling off my jacket, or having someone sort through all my worldly possessions (although I was a tad miffed about the seizure of my homemade peach jam), but you don't have to be rude about it. There's a man in the Buffalo airport who ought never to be allowed to work with the public, and there are a few in Tampa who could use a Dale Carnegie course as well. But the folks guarding the airways in Arizona and California are doing it with a smile, and that does not go unnoticed by those of us who remember when flying used to be fun. Let's face it: if someone's gonna pat you down, they should at least be courteous about it!

Have Luggage, Will Pay

Have you been on a plane lately? If not, you may not know that it now costs you a minimum of $15 to take a suitcase with you! I don't know about you, but I find that preposterous. Add it to the ticket price or call it a "service charge" and lop it in there with all those other mysterious charges that add an extra fifty bucks to the bottom line, but do not penalize me for taking clothes along to my destination! For Pete's sake, what's next? Surcharges for bodies over 100 pounds?

People already abuse the carry-on baggage restrictions to an unbelievable degree; I can only imagine the new levels of creativity this will bring. ("Sir, I don't believe that 300 pound garbage bag will fit in the overhead compartment.".... "It will or I'll die tryin,' girlie!") As it stands, virtually all airlines except Southwest (more on that later) are charging $15 for the first suitcase, $25 for the second, and $100 for the third. Wouldn't it make more sense to make the first one free then charge up the yin-yang for subsequent ones? I would think the idea is to reward frugal, organized travelers and sock it to those who pack everything but the kitchen sink.

So I'm already annoyed about this suitcase charge thing when I arrive at the Northwest counter, right? But I'm trying to keep my mouth shut; it's not the ticket clerk's fault. I hand him twenty dollars cash and he says, "We don't take cash. Credit card only," at which point my resolve to keep my mouth shut disintegrates and I offer up a steely smile and say, "I don't have a credit card, I have cash. You're the ones who levied the charge; do you want my money or not?" (I did have a credit card, of course, but that was so totally not the point.) Thus ensued several minutes of inane remarks regarding the lack of cash at the gate, whether anyone had change, how they would write this up, yada yada yada, before one of the baggage handlers finally said, "Gimme that twenty; I got a five dollar bill and I'll get it back from somebody later."

On the next leg of my travels, it was interesting to note that that airline (there've been so many, I don't remember which it was) accepted only cash. Hello??? Does the word "consistency" mean anything to airline industry? Based on my observations of blank, then annoyed, expressions at the check-in counter, most people don't even know there is a charge for baggage, so it's highly unlikely they'll show up with whatever configuration of cash or plastic is needed to meet every airline's specific protocol.

It's traumatic enough to fly these days without adding convoluted baggage fees to the equation. I'm sure it's no picnic for airline employees, either, but airline executives need to get their act together and take a page from the Southwest manual. I rarely get to fly Southwest (more's the pity) since I'm in the Southeast, but they put other airlines to shame in all categories. Maybe it's just because they get to wear shorts, but Southwest employees are always warm and friendly, they're always having a good time, they make check-in easy, they make problems disappear, and they don't charge for a suitcase. Their attendants even--gasp!--crack jokes inflight. Anyone remember the days when flying used to be fun? It still is, on Southwest.

So here's my travel advisory for any of you unlucky enough to be flying soon: pack light, keep cash and credit cards at the ready, fly Southwest if you can, avoid Northwest at all costs, and beware of overhead baggage that may now kill you if it falls on your head because it's carrying two weeks' worth of clothing, accessories, toiletries, grooming appliances, and souvenirs in its overstuffed little pockets.

Oh, Wright brothers, ye hardly knew we.

Diva Update

A few months back, I reviewed a performance by 3 Mo' Divas, an amazing musical tribute show produced by Marion J. Caffey. By pure coincidence, Mr. Caffey happened across my blog and wrote to thank me for my comments and to share my lament that this show is not getting the attention it deserves. So I bring the divas--Laurice Lanier, Nova Payton, and Jamet Pittman--to your attention again: their first CD has just been produced and will be released in March. For those of you who missed my earlier blog (and, of course, you can scroll down and read it still), check out their YouTube footage or visit their website to hear these women sing and see if the show is coming to your area. If it is, buy a ticket! I promise you, you will never hear a more powerful concert.

The CD, by the way, is called "Smashing Musical Barriers" and if you'd like more information, send an e-mail to info@3modivas.com and tell 'em the Comma Goddess sent you! (I'm not on the payroll, by the way; I just think the Divas are that good!)

Have you had the pleasure of seeing 3 Mo' Divas perform? Share your thoughts!

Not-So-Gentle Reminders

I've been brought up short twice this week: first, when I received an e-mail from a friend about suffragettes, and last night, when I got pulled over by one of Greenville's Finest.

The e-mail contained stark photos and details about women at the forefront of the suffragette movement; specifically, about how they were treated at a workhouse in Virginia on November 15, 1917, now known as the 'Night of Terror.' Today, we women stroll into voting booths as nonchalantly as if we were sauntering up the cereal aisle at the grocery store; it's far too easy to forget that a lot of women spent a lot of years--seventy of them, to be exact--to win that opportunity for us. (Wyoming proved itself more progressive, fair, and intelligent than the other states; it granted women the right to vote in 1869. Pause here for a round of applause for the great state of Wyoming!) I'm not here to argue the idiocy of why we had to fight to have that right; I just want to remind my fellow females that we did--and failing to show up at the polls any time we have an opportunity to exercise that right is like slapping those women in the face all over again. I don't care who you vote for--you can write in "Minnie Mouse" for president if you're not happy with the other choices--but don't you DARE fail to vote on November 4th because you're too busy, or too undecided, or too sick, or too anything. That privilege is precious in any election, but we're making history this year, one way or another, and you owe it to your suffragette sisters to be a part of it.

Here's a tidbit for you that I never knew till today: there are suffragettes and suffragists! The former were more militant (read: not afraid to break laws, windows, or anything else that got in their way!); the latter practiced only non-violent methods of persuasion, such as protest marches and handing out pamphlets for the cause. "Suffrage," by the way, means "the right to vote." And here, all these years, I thought we called them "suffragettes" because of all the abuse and resistance they suffered through! Isn't language a wondrous thing?

My other wake-up call this week was getting a ticket for not wearing a seat belt. I can't tell you how humiliated I am to have to admit that. The only thing more hypocritical would be if I got caught driving an SUV, because next to harping on those, the other rant my children hear most from me is "Wear your seat belt!" I wouldn't even let them go for their driving test until I saw that putting on a seat belt was standard, routine procedure when they got in a car. People, I have always, always worn my seat belt when driving. But in recent weeks, I confess that I have gotten lax on quick, short runs, like the mile from my house to my church, or the half mile from my house to the post office. I acknowledge that I should put it on, then think, "Oh, pooh, it's only a couple of blocks."

Yesterday, I was running late, distracted, rummaging in my purse for lip gloss to soothe my chapped lips. I got in my car and took off, aware that I had not fastened my seat belt but reasoning, "I'll put it on at the red light," which was just a couple of blocks away. But as I approached that light and was reaching for said seat belt, blue lights flashed in my rearview mirror. "I noticed you weren't wearing your seat belt, ma'am," the somber young officer said when he approached my open window. His eyes widened as I readily admitted my guilt, professed my acute embarrassment, and thanked him for doing his job. He even apologized as he handed over the ticket, saying "I can't give you a warning, ma'am; I have to give you a ticket because Greenville has a zero tolerance policy." I assured him my contrition was not an effort to get off lightly and thanked him again for a reminder that might very well save my life.

You see, in a scary and ironic coincidence, I just found out my cousin ran off the road and flipped her car three times a couple of weeks ago--as she was trying to put on the seatbelt she suddenly realized she wasn't wearing. She was injured, but she's alive--and vehemently admonishing the rest of us to buckle up before we start driving.

No matter how dedicated or zealous we are (or think we are), we all need to be reminded sometimes of the things that matter. And few things matter more than your life and your democracy. So consider yourself reminded--and don't take either one for granted!

• Info about McCain (this is not preference, it's alphabetization: M comes before O, folks)


• National Highway Traffic Safety Association - interesting statistics,advice on child safety and teen drivers, and sobering facts about cell phones, drowsy driving, and motorcycles
  
• Info about Obama

Anyone out there old enough to have witnessed firsthand some of that suffragette activity or remember stories your mother or grandmother told? I'd love to hear your comments!