Spell Chick

Bees are something with which I have great problems. Before you fire up your e-mail to send nasty messages to me about the benefit of pollination of flowers and veggies, the bees to which I am referring are geography and spelling bees.

Geography bees ask school kids where such inane places such as Paris and Miami are located.

Spelling bees are similar in that equally brainy kids are asked to spell common words as syzygy.

While in sixth grade – sixth grade was the best three years I spent in parochial school – I was asked to participate in an elimination to weed out the weak spellers in my class in order to send the finest speller to the state spelling bee.

The class was divided into two random groups and we were given words to spell for the nuns. All went well for until I was given the word “sope.” Evidently, it is more commonly spelled s-o-a-p. Needless to say, my best efforts led to an early defeat. But, for Wendy, it was a resounding win and the class rallied around her if only to claim we knew the best speller in New York State.

Unfortunately for Wendy, she was eliminated in round three by misspelling the word “phlegm.” What better way to prove to the rest of the world that you cannot spell than to fail in front of countless parents and teachers who have coached you to spell through rote, doing written and oral exercises ad nauseum.

This disappointment brought reality into focus for the rest of the sixth grade and served as a true wake-up call. Back then, we didn’t have computers that checked our homework assignments; we had our parents who often spelled poorly as we did. Hence, our lives of being unable to effectively convey the written word became generational.

In any case, I needed to be able to share written works with my employer and fellow employees which dictated my requirement to spell better. Playing Scrabble helped me both spell and win at Scrabble. I also acquired an affinity for crossword puzzles. Over time, my spelling abilities marginally improved but, if it wasn't for word processor spell chick, I’d still be lost. Yeah, I know it’s supposed to be ‘spell check.’ Still that’s the way that software works; it corrects the word to a ‘best guess,’ not necessarily the ‘correct guess.’ All that is water under the bridge for most kids today.

Now if they knew that Paris was in Texas and Miami was in Ohio for those geography bees, we’d have a smarter generation.

Who’s That?

As a kid, I thought life would become easier as we aged. We would gain more knowledge and common sense, and make more associations that would aid us in our twilight years. I was wrong.

Each day I find another new person gracing the cover of some magazine, or as a guest on a talk show, with whom I am totally unfamiliar. Pictures of the prettiest people on Earth surround me at the grocery checkout, each of them wearing a beaming grin and clad in high-end clothing with nary a blemish to be found.

I’m not a fool. I realize that these photos are air-brushed into non-recognizable portraits of the original subjects but, it is time to explain who these folks are and how they secretly became famous.

Accompanying stories ramble on about them growing up on a farm in Arizona with 19 siblings. Dad left the family for a Chinese hooker and the family relied on good intentions from the offshoot religious cults they joined. Their big breaks came when they performed, shoeless, in a high school play and were spotted by Stephen Spielberg who happened to be visiting an ailing relative in town.

Still, I never saw these people even selling car insurance on TV, much less in a feature film that was nominated for an Oscar or Emmy Award. Lately, it is because they star in a vampire show either on TV or in the movies something about which I am not the least bit interested.

My youth was spent working and listening to music. I not only knew the songs and their recording artists but, I also knew the disc jockeys who spun those wax platters, much to my delight. Today, I don’t have a clue when I see a person as a guest on some after-the-late-news show. These folks are roundly applauded as much as The Pope and I usually feel stupid because I don’t recognize them.

But, I also wonder what happened to all those ‘stars’ that came and went in a flash a short time ago. Names of Star Search winners come to mind when mentioning once famous has-beens.

Let’s keep those celebrities fresh with new daily details and overwhelming information about their scandals so that I will know who to watch and idolize in the future. By the way, that reminds me that Kim Kardashian never returned that waffle iron wedding gift after her 72-day marriage.

Sick ‘em

Allow me to welcome you to that time of year when those people who bragged about not getting flu shots are now sick with the flu.

Folks are carousing the aisles of supermarkets and department stores sniffling and wiping their runny noses on their sleeves. They cough without covering their mouths and sneeze likewise as if that “achoo” was a personal gift from them to us, then anxiously wait for a “Gesundheit!” from their victims. Wait on.

Still, the common cold wafts about the air like the aroma of freshly-baked bread, only more physically intrusive and much less pleasantly inviting. Here’s an alert: Your aliments are not mine to share.

In any case, this is not a good time to be out and about in public. Doctors suggest a trip to their office or a clinic or a hospital for an expensive non-cure. Unfortunately, we must wait among the walking dead – well laden with other germs and imported ailments – before we can speak to a medical professional, with a raspy voice.

It’s a no-win situation. You may as well roll the dice on your home mortgage and hope for positive results.

But, I have noticed that there are much more anti-cold and –flu treatments on pharmacy shelves than before. As a child – I’m so old, my birth-certificate expired – I remember my Mother using salves greasy ointments on my chest to ferret out the cold germs. Actually, any self-respecting germ and virus would gladly leave an area with that stuff liberally applied nearby. I wanted to leave my own body to escape. But, I digress.

Enter the well-meaning people who feel compelled to give you free advice about your ailment.

“If you wore heavier clothing you wouldn’t be sick,” is the one I hear most.

“Bundle up or you’ll only get sicker,” is another.

“Cover your head before you die of pneumonia,” is my personal favorite. Of course, I’m very busy trying to keep my one foot off the banana and the other out of the grave to argue, and merely drop the matter.

It’s too bad the germs and viruses that give us our cold and influenza attacks don’t particularly care how much clothing one wears, or ones hat choice, to make us ill. For your information, they are airborne. Wearing a pair of tailored, cuffed, pleated slacks has no bearing upon getting a cold.

I certainly appreciate free advice but, I’d like factual advice above all. How about some free advice that doesn’t include fashion critiques? And, I’d welcome some free advice from a doctor.

Hats Off

Up until the 1960’s, most men, women, and children wore hats as a regular part of their lives. Photos from the earliest part of that century show men in their fedoras, women with their head garments of velvet and lace, and tykes with beanies and ball caps.

All that changed with the election of President John Kennedy. His inauguration was in the dead of winter with cold air and snow about but, he wore no hat and the First Lady, Jacqueline Kennedy, did likewise. Suddenly, a new era began.

Taking a cue from President Kennedy, government officials and business people alike ceased wearing chapeaus. Sure, straw hats for casual wear, for both men and women, still existed. But, times were changing.

Several decades passed before someone with great business sense created new a method of advertising, more specifically, on a ball cap. These caps were made of nylon mesh with the fronts resembling small billboards. Emblazoned thereon were names, phone numbers, and logos of businesses that people sported nearly everywhere.

America was dotted with this cheesy headwear but, it was stylish for its time, much as mullets and bell bottoms were. Movie characters wore these hats, television stars donned these, and even politicians seized this opportunity to wear them as an extra method by which to advertise for little money.

This activity created a norm allowing other folks from other walks of life to demonstrate their affiliations. Yachters, golfers, and other elite suddenly discovered a “new” way to ‘advertise’ their wealthy status to those otherwise unaware or unconcerned. With this up-scaling of clientele also came better fabrics. Away went the silk screening and in came the embroidery. Nylon hats were officially deceased.

The 1980’s ushered in a genre of “music” called rap. In short it was talentless people reading poetry to a drum beat. Yes, it is as annoying as it sounds. These rappers with their new-found fame needed an avenue by which to tout their affluence and social status. Enter the ball cap, this time around adorned with sequins and glitter. This tried and true method of advertising found new patrons in the tin-eared followers of this aural garbage, and the style of wearing ones cap – with the bill pointed sideways – actually became fashionable. Although this new statement makes the wearer look both urban and retarded, it caught on by storm. Nothing amazes me anymore.

It was around the turn of the new millennium that ‘the kids’ discovered fedoras. Once again, music-related individuals spurred this fashion fad. Magazines were covered with people wearing fedoras and, by people, I mean both men and women. Sure, those stupid urban ball caps are still around and they still look, well…

I must confess I wear hats of varying varieties to include ball caps, cowboy hats, and crushers. I actually own a pork pie hat and I wear them all with regularity. I use the brimmed hats when exposed to the sun, as I am conscious of skin damage and cancer. For me though, hats never went out of style and likely never will. My sainted wife refers to me as The Renaissance Man because I’m usually ahead of my time. For once, she’s right.

Others regularly laugh at me – yes, I’m the one they’re pointing at. But, my ball cap brim is pointed toward the front and my ears are shaded from the sun.