The House of Windsor is no stranger to the royal flush of embarrassment resulting from leaked illicit recordings: Prince Andrew's ex-wife, Sarah Ferguson was caught on tape trying to elicit a bribe in exchange for access to her former husband; the late Princess Diana's clandestine telephone calls with a lover were intercepted and detailed by the British tabloids for all the world to read. So when photographs of her son, Prince Harry, surfaced this week, confirming that what happens in swanky suites in Vegas doesn't stay in Vegas, it should have come as no real surprise. Embarrassing, yes. Shocking, no.
What was he thinking many wondered? I doubt he was, as he stood in his birthday suit, cuping the crown jewels. Royals are supposed to have handlers around to think those scenarios through FOR them. Apparently his security detail was asleep at the roulette wheel.
Hopefully, others will see his mortification as a cautionary tale in this digital age of instant snap-and-post where the underage beer pong and intimate lip-lock can be shared with the webiverse within seconds and without permission.
Remind your children, pre-teens and up, that they don't need to be famous to have their behavior captured by pixels and uploaded to the world-wide-web, where their wrong moves will live in infamy and haunt them for a long time.
Whether they are at a dance, fraternity exchange, or party, young people should be mindful that today's paparazzi need only a cell phone with a camera to catch someone in their worst candid camera moment.
Think of the internet - Facebook, Instagram and Twitter, like the front page of the morning paper or billboard at the busiest intersection in town. If you don't want to be pictured there doing something inappropriate, don't provide eager shutterbugs with the opportunities. Afterall, it 'Manners' A lot!
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Friday, August 17, 2012
APRON STRINGS & HEARTSTRINGS
There is a bug making the rounds these days. Its symptoms are few, it isn't accompanied by fever, and there is no known cure. Onset can begin as early as summer camp, and usually peaks at the beginning of a new school year. Not everyone will be stricken, but chances are you or someone you know has been hit with a bout of homesickness, whether you've walked your youngest into first grade or moved a son or daughter into their college dorm room hundreds or thousands of miles away.
It's been 40 years since my mother took the 'baby' of the family to kindergarten. I can't remember what I had for lunch two days ago, but that morning is seered in my memory bank. There stood my mom, lips quivering, tears welling up. My sister stood motionless, like a deer caught in headlights.
This week that same little girl joined the growing ranks of baby-boomer empty-nesters, taking her baby to college a state away. We could have done a week's worth of laundry with the waterworks in our family the past couple of weeks. Had someone not known better, they would assume the college coed was being deployed to Afghanistan, or worse yet - Calabassas to live with the Kardashian clan. Who knew sending a loved-one off to the University of fill-in-the-blank would stir feelings akin to banishment in Siberia or crusing aboard Titanic?
There are so many emotions and layers of dynamics at play when the apron strings are loosened, the heart strings are tugged, and the nest is suddenly nothing more than twigs and branches, that it would take a year of Dr. Phil episodes to decode it all.
This much I do know, having walked down this well-worn path four years ago when we sent our oldest, a high school sophomore at the time, away to a military academy boarding school: I'm not sure whom the situation is tougher on, but like a great wave off Malibu, everyone will need to ride it out.
Some, like my sister, will do so clutching her youngest's ankles as her child heads to class; others will never even put the car in park long enough to wave goodbye.
A year ago, we loosened the apron strings even more, moving our collegian into his dormitory at Ole Miss, the pride and joy of the South, where 'hotty toddy' isn't a beverage, but a religious experience and the excitement and energy could power a third-world nation. Our emotional trip was marked by arguments in the school supply aisles of Walmart, disagreements over whether we were allowed inside the sacred dorm room (college kids need our money, but still view us as members of an alien nation), and verbal battles about the necessity of a small battalion of appliances for a room smaller than a futon.
In our case, we couldn't part company fast enough, and our exhasperation prooved a great distraction on the flight home, until we returned to our nest, and listened for sounds of life. Instead, we were greeted by the whir of our appliances and the computer.
Whether your child will be adjusting to elementary school or living away from home for the first time, how you react will set the tempo for them. If you are doubled over and grief-stricken, expect a similar reaction from your student. Talking positively about the excitement to come, reassuring your child that this new chapter is a wonderful thing, and that these days ahead will be some of life's 'best of times', will be the strongest medicine possible for homesickness, on your end and theirs.
And when everyone is feeling better, pat yourself on the back for a job well done. When birdies leave the nest, it is mom and dad who helped strengthened their wings. Then slip into a bubble bath and let Calgon take you away. Afterall, it 'manners' a lot!
It's been 40 years since my mother took the 'baby' of the family to kindergarten. I can't remember what I had for lunch two days ago, but that morning is seered in my memory bank. There stood my mom, lips quivering, tears welling up. My sister stood motionless, like a deer caught in headlights.
This week that same little girl joined the growing ranks of baby-boomer empty-nesters, taking her baby to college a state away. We could have done a week's worth of laundry with the waterworks in our family the past couple of weeks. Had someone not known better, they would assume the college coed was being deployed to Afghanistan, or worse yet - Calabassas to live with the Kardashian clan. Who knew sending a loved-one off to the University of fill-in-the-blank would stir feelings akin to banishment in Siberia or crusing aboard Titanic?
There are so many emotions and layers of dynamics at play when the apron strings are loosened, the heart strings are tugged, and the nest is suddenly nothing more than twigs and branches, that it would take a year of Dr. Phil episodes to decode it all.
This much I do know, having walked down this well-worn path four years ago when we sent our oldest, a high school sophomore at the time, away to a military academy boarding school: I'm not sure whom the situation is tougher on, but like a great wave off Malibu, everyone will need to ride it out.
Some, like my sister, will do so clutching her youngest's ankles as her child heads to class; others will never even put the car in park long enough to wave goodbye.
A year ago, we loosened the apron strings even more, moving our collegian into his dormitory at Ole Miss, the pride and joy of the South, where 'hotty toddy' isn't a beverage, but a religious experience and the excitement and energy could power a third-world nation. Our emotional trip was marked by arguments in the school supply aisles of Walmart, disagreements over whether we were allowed inside the sacred dorm room (college kids need our money, but still view us as members of an alien nation), and verbal battles about the necessity of a small battalion of appliances for a room smaller than a futon.
In our case, we couldn't part company fast enough, and our exhasperation prooved a great distraction on the flight home, until we returned to our nest, and listened for sounds of life. Instead, we were greeted by the whir of our appliances and the computer.
Whether your child will be adjusting to elementary school or living away from home for the first time, how you react will set the tempo for them. If you are doubled over and grief-stricken, expect a similar reaction from your student. Talking positively about the excitement to come, reassuring your child that this new chapter is a wonderful thing, and that these days ahead will be some of life's 'best of times', will be the strongest medicine possible for homesickness, on your end and theirs.
And when everyone is feeling better, pat yourself on the back for a job well done. When birdies leave the nest, it is mom and dad who helped strengthened their wings. Then slip into a bubble bath and let Calgon take you away. Afterall, it 'manners' a lot!
Monday, August 6, 2012
CUSTOMER AWASH IN THOUGHTLESSNESS
Sometimes, blog ideas slap you in the face like a wet towel, as was the case earlier at the Clearwater Car Wash - a hand-wash joint on Ocean Highway between South Carolina's seafood capitol - Murrells Inlet - and the state's commercialism mecca - Myrtle Beach.
A gully-washer of a thunderstorm loomed overhead. The sound of rolling thunder competed with the noise from inside the cave of oversized brushes and water works. The humidity promised a free wash for everyone.
The young man ahead of us was finally hailed over to his clean, grime-free SUV. A newer model. Like a Mars rover. Not the hillbilly wagon we were waiting to reclaim.
I worried those poor saps, dripping wet in the heat, polishing and wiping down cars, were going to keel over like the Olympic marathon walker last weekend. You just knew they'd rather be making smoothies up the road at Sonic. These hand-wash operators deserve every nickel of their tip - especially if it is a larger vehicle.
Curious as to whether the SUV's owner was going to reward the cleaner with a few bills, I watched as he approached his car, obviously his pride and joy. What happened next ultimately had my daughter and me doubled over in laughter, and then disappointment.
Mr. OCD inspected his vehicle with military precision, circling the wagon and pointing out a smudge here and a missed swipe there. Then his inspection focused on the interior. Oy. Every fiber of the carpeting was given the once over by this guy, while the car wash detail team stood by, aghast. Minutes rolled by to closing time. Mr. Obsessive-Compulsive grabbed a towel, apparently thinking it best to instruct these poor fellows on how to clean HIS car properly, as he waved the cloth in the air like a conductor.
Someone drag him over to our vehicle. He'd be horrified. Have a couple of kids. You won't be able to tell the difference between an inferior car wash and crayon marks.
The detail crew stood by, helpless. Was this a candid camera moment, perhaps? Unfortunately not. The owner of the vehicle proceeded to lift the hatch, and pull out his own cleaning supplies? Whah?! Either this guy is wound tighter than a fan belt, or the heat index has affected his thinking.
There is a myriad of items in the back of our vehicle - rusty beach chairs, an empty oil container, limbless dolls, but auto detail supplies are not included! He could have saved himself $17.99.
After the detail dance came to an end, and I prepared to gladly hand over my money to our wash boy, who looked as if he'd run through the sprinklers, I expected Mr. OCD to do the same.
Nope. Nada. Zippo.
Instead, the young SUV owner, upon green-lighting his own inspection, hopped into the car and sped away. I'm not sure what was worse, his insensitivity to the sweat and labor the boys had put into polishing his car, or his failure to tip them.
"I need a drink of water," the exhausted and deflated detail guy said as he walked by.
I think he just needed a drink!
Everywhere we turn these days, someone has a tip container at the ready, eager to be rewarded for doing next to nothing. There are plenty of self-services that don't merit a monetary appreciation. But the worker-bee who wipes down your car from bumper to bumper, inside and out, most certainly deserves a tip. Afterall, it 'manners' a lot!
A gully-washer of a thunderstorm loomed overhead. The sound of rolling thunder competed with the noise from inside the cave of oversized brushes and water works. The humidity promised a free wash for everyone.
The young man ahead of us was finally hailed over to his clean, grime-free SUV. A newer model. Like a Mars rover. Not the hillbilly wagon we were waiting to reclaim.
I worried those poor saps, dripping wet in the heat, polishing and wiping down cars, were going to keel over like the Olympic marathon walker last weekend. You just knew they'd rather be making smoothies up the road at Sonic. These hand-wash operators deserve every nickel of their tip - especially if it is a larger vehicle.
Curious as to whether the SUV's owner was going to reward the cleaner with a few bills, I watched as he approached his car, obviously his pride and joy. What happened next ultimately had my daughter and me doubled over in laughter, and then disappointment.
Mr. OCD inspected his vehicle with military precision, circling the wagon and pointing out a smudge here and a missed swipe there. Then his inspection focused on the interior. Oy. Every fiber of the carpeting was given the once over by this guy, while the car wash detail team stood by, aghast. Minutes rolled by to closing time. Mr. Obsessive-Compulsive grabbed a towel, apparently thinking it best to instruct these poor fellows on how to clean HIS car properly, as he waved the cloth in the air like a conductor.
Someone drag him over to our vehicle. He'd be horrified. Have a couple of kids. You won't be able to tell the difference between an inferior car wash and crayon marks.
The detail crew stood by, helpless. Was this a candid camera moment, perhaps? Unfortunately not. The owner of the vehicle proceeded to lift the hatch, and pull out his own cleaning supplies? Whah?! Either this guy is wound tighter than a fan belt, or the heat index has affected his thinking.
There is a myriad of items in the back of our vehicle - rusty beach chairs, an empty oil container, limbless dolls, but auto detail supplies are not included! He could have saved himself $17.99.
After the detail dance came to an end, and I prepared to gladly hand over my money to our wash boy, who looked as if he'd run through the sprinklers, I expected Mr. OCD to do the same.
Nope. Nada. Zippo.
Instead, the young SUV owner, upon green-lighting his own inspection, hopped into the car and sped away. I'm not sure what was worse, his insensitivity to the sweat and labor the boys had put into polishing his car, or his failure to tip them.
"I need a drink of water," the exhausted and deflated detail guy said as he walked by.
I think he just needed a drink!
Everywhere we turn these days, someone has a tip container at the ready, eager to be rewarded for doing next to nothing. There are plenty of self-services that don't merit a monetary appreciation. But the worker-bee who wipes down your car from bumper to bumper, inside and out, most certainly deserves a tip. Afterall, it 'manners' a lot!
Sunday, July 22, 2012
FINDING GOOD EMBEDDED IN EVIL
These have been difficult days for many Americans, heartsick and shell-shocked in the wake of the Colorado movie theater ramapage. In the pre-dawn darkness of Friday morning, in another time zone two hours ahead of Colorado and unable to sleep, I stumbled onto some of the first reports out of Aurora. I was transfixed. As minutes turned into hours, I couldn't comprehend the death toll on the bottom of the television screen: 14 at the time, later revised back to 12 where it still stands. A half-dozen people are still clinging to life in critical condition.
My inability to fathom such senselessness and callous disregard for human life was wrapped like a hot dog inside that theater, a presumably safe haven where generations of families flock to escape the weather, the challenges of everyday life, and immerse themselves in the art form of movie making and entertainment.
The innocence of an outing as American as apple pie was shattered with each and every bullet. Our children love going to the show. I thought of the countless times we have gone together, or I have dropped them off for a couple hours of fun and enjoyment.
And I thought about the parents who had done the same Thursday night in Aurora. The mother who is paralyzed in a hospital bed with a bullet lodged in her throat, unaware her six year old daughter is among the fatalities. And Alex Sullivan, eager to ring in his 27th birthday, unaware it would be his final minutes of life inside the death chamber of theater number nine, while his father awaited his return home in a few hours.
This tragic, dark chapter in America's history has resonated with our children in a way unlike others such as the Tucson shooting a year-and-a-half ago. It is as if they have experienced a death in the family, aware now more than ever of their own vulnerability. Like so many,they want to help in some way. Naturally, their 'Pennies From Heaven' service project will be deployed once again.
But helping them make sense of this also means trying to explain the unimagineable, why someone would methodically calculate to end or destroy so many lives? We'll probably never know the answer to that, but in the midst of such devastation, the discussion must include the stories of the many good-deeds that attempted to triumph over evil just after midnight in that Century movie theater: The boyfriend who took a bullet for his girlfriend and her brother, the moviegoer who instructed strangers to 'play dead' in order to walk out alive, the police officers who abandoned standard emergency proceedure by loading people into the back of squad cars to rush them to the hospital, and the person who tried in vain to carry a mortally wounded victim to safety.
There was a lot of good embedded in those horrific minutes early Friday morning. May we as a nation remember that even in the most abominable of times, that benevolence and mercy will always try to rise above the smoke and poisonous gases of the most heinous and wicked acts.
My inability to fathom such senselessness and callous disregard for human life was wrapped like a hot dog inside that theater, a presumably safe haven where generations of families flock to escape the weather, the challenges of everyday life, and immerse themselves in the art form of movie making and entertainment.
The innocence of an outing as American as apple pie was shattered with each and every bullet. Our children love going to the show. I thought of the countless times we have gone together, or I have dropped them off for a couple hours of fun and enjoyment.
And I thought about the parents who had done the same Thursday night in Aurora. The mother who is paralyzed in a hospital bed with a bullet lodged in her throat, unaware her six year old daughter is among the fatalities. And Alex Sullivan, eager to ring in his 27th birthday, unaware it would be his final minutes of life inside the death chamber of theater number nine, while his father awaited his return home in a few hours.
This tragic, dark chapter in America's history has resonated with our children in a way unlike others such as the Tucson shooting a year-and-a-half ago. It is as if they have experienced a death in the family, aware now more than ever of their own vulnerability. Like so many,they want to help in some way. Naturally, their 'Pennies From Heaven' service project will be deployed once again.
But helping them make sense of this also means trying to explain the unimagineable, why someone would methodically calculate to end or destroy so many lives? We'll probably never know the answer to that, but in the midst of such devastation, the discussion must include the stories of the many good-deeds that attempted to triumph over evil just after midnight in that Century movie theater: The boyfriend who took a bullet for his girlfriend and her brother, the moviegoer who instructed strangers to 'play dead' in order to walk out alive, the police officers who abandoned standard emergency proceedure by loading people into the back of squad cars to rush them to the hospital, and the person who tried in vain to carry a mortally wounded victim to safety.
There was a lot of good embedded in those horrific minutes early Friday morning. May we as a nation remember that even in the most abominable of times, that benevolence and mercy will always try to rise above the smoke and poisonous gases of the most heinous and wicked acts.
Monday, July 16, 2012
Out-Of-Towners
I've been spending the better of the day (since the crack of east coast dawn) preparing for a visit from a good friend and her son. Our daughters, no doubt overcome already by the fumes of cleaning spray, think i'm in a panic over a royal visit. My gal pal is royally fun, for sure! But the girls have amnesia, unable to recall surrendering their bedroom when our friends last visited. We've been going round and 'round ever since. Naturally, besides providing another great opportunity to nag my daughters about social graces, I knew there was a blog in here...somewhere...between the freshly washed towels and flowers.
Our family LOVES to entertain, no matter the zip code or level of formality! Opening one's home to visitors is a good reason to get our summer slugs up off their beach blankets, but it is also a great way to put so many lovely touches into a 24-hour or 48-hour window.
If you invite someone from out of town to visit, absolutely insist they stay under your roof, unless you live in a studio apartment furnished only with a futon and a bean bag. In our case, our guests will occupy the spoiled teen suite, forcing a temporary relocation of the natives upstairs. [Insert eye rolls and gasps here].
Like a bowl of She Crab Soup, they are warming to the idea, even getting involved in the preparations. Make sure bedding and linens are fresh, and don't forget to provide clean sets of towels as well. I like to have a small vase of flowers on the nightstand.
In our family, 'mi casa es su casa' is our mantra, so with that, I make sure the refrigerator and pantry are fully stocked with fruit, munchies, and beverages. It isn't necessary, but another thoughtful touch is to do some advance activity planning so everyone doesn't sit around staring at each other. Conversely, make sure to give your guests some down time to relax, especially if they have traveled some distance.
Plan your meals before guests arrive, so as not to put them on the spot about dining out. Make sure not to keep them up late either. They will be exhausted, and surely be anxious to get a good night's sleep.
Like dinner parties, entertaining guests overnight is about making them feel welcome and comfortable. If you're uptight, they won't be at ease. Remember, the goal is to create an environment conducive to spending time together, catching up and making memories. Remember, It 'Manners' A lot!
Our family LOVES to entertain, no matter the zip code or level of formality! Opening one's home to visitors is a good reason to get our summer slugs up off their beach blankets, but it is also a great way to put so many lovely touches into a 24-hour or 48-hour window.
If you invite someone from out of town to visit, absolutely insist they stay under your roof, unless you live in a studio apartment furnished only with a futon and a bean bag. In our case, our guests will occupy the spoiled teen suite, forcing a temporary relocation of the natives upstairs. [Insert eye rolls and gasps here].
Like a bowl of She Crab Soup, they are warming to the idea, even getting involved in the preparations. Make sure bedding and linens are fresh, and don't forget to provide clean sets of towels as well. I like to have a small vase of flowers on the nightstand.
In our family, 'mi casa es su casa' is our mantra, so with that, I make sure the refrigerator and pantry are fully stocked with fruit, munchies, and beverages. It isn't necessary, but another thoughtful touch is to do some advance activity planning so everyone doesn't sit around staring at each other. Conversely, make sure to give your guests some down time to relax, especially if they have traveled some distance.
Plan your meals before guests arrive, so as not to put them on the spot about dining out. Make sure not to keep them up late either. They will be exhausted, and surely be anxious to get a good night's sleep.
Like dinner parties, entertaining guests overnight is about making them feel welcome and comfortable. If you're uptight, they won't be at ease. Remember, the goal is to create an environment conducive to spending time together, catching up and making memories. Remember, It 'Manners' A lot!
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
WRONG NUMBER
"Uh, is [inaudible] there?" the voice on the other end of the telephone asked. "Who?" I inquired. Insert more garbled audio here. "What number are you calling?" I asked politely.
"Oh S@#t!" screamed the caller before hanging up.
Lucky me, I was the recipient, not once, but twice more after that awkward and impolite attempt to connect with someone else through my number. Had he called again, I was tempted to remind him of the right way to end a wrong call.
We've all done it. A harmless mistake, that can be easily rectified by saying something along the lines of "I'm sorry, I must have dialed the wrong number."
Punctuating the mistake with expletives is truly bad form. Simply hanging up is even ruder.
The next time you call someone by mistake, keep it short, polite, and clean. If you are on the other end of the line, same goes. "I'm sorry, I think you must have the wrong number" is all that needs to be said. To be sure, these types of calls can be annoying, but they needn't be occasions for rudeness and impoliteness. Remember, IT 'MANNERS' A LOT!
"Oh S@#t!" screamed the caller before hanging up.
Lucky me, I was the recipient, not once, but twice more after that awkward and impolite attempt to connect with someone else through my number. Had he called again, I was tempted to remind him of the right way to end a wrong call.
We've all done it. A harmless mistake, that can be easily rectified by saying something along the lines of "I'm sorry, I must have dialed the wrong number."
Punctuating the mistake with expletives is truly bad form. Simply hanging up is even ruder.
The next time you call someone by mistake, keep it short, polite, and clean. If you are on the other end of the line, same goes. "I'm sorry, I think you must have the wrong number" is all that needs to be said. To be sure, these types of calls can be annoying, but they needn't be occasions for rudeness and impoliteness. Remember, IT 'MANNERS' A LOT!
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
SET OFF FIREWORKS OF CIVILITY
There is no better slice of Americana than Independence Day, when, from sea to shining sea, friends, family, acquaintances and even perfect strangers will gather to celebrate the adoption of the Declaration of Independence. We will do it on land, aboard vessels, alongside barbecues, with burgers, beer and bravado. And at sundown, with bombs bursting mid air.
Growing up, standing on our front lawn, gingerly writing our names in the air with sparklers, my sisters and I thought that was the bomb! Then our father would set off some 'safe and sane' numbers out in the street. There were no bottle rockets, molotov cocktails or tree fires. Just good old-fashioned patriotic fun.
Somewhere, i'm sure, there was mischief, as there will likely be again tomorrow. But on this Fourth of July eve, herewith are some important things to remember:
Be obedient. Respect authority and the traffic cops policing crowds. If you aren't in familiar surroundings, make yourself familiar with the restrictions regarding firworks, alcohol consumption, etc. When someone else gets ticketed, you'll be glad you did.
Be respectful of the property of others - whether it be public or private. July Fourth IS NOT a license to disregard the rights of others and torch consideration in a blaze of glory.
Clean up after yourself. Make sure you have a bucket of water on hand for the used fireworks, along with trash bags to haul your leftovers. Don't assume someone else will come and clean your mess!
If you plan to put on your own show, keep it LEGAL. Don't endanger yourself and others by lighting up gunpowder in order to show your patriotic pride.
Remember, too, to respect the noise ordinance. If you are still firing off smoke bombs at midnight, your neighbors will want to declare their independence from you!
The Fourth of July, wrapped in stars, stripes, patriotism and good times, should also be a display of the very best in us, courteous and civilized, respectful behavior. Because It 'Manners' A lot!
Happy Birthday America!
Growing up, standing on our front lawn, gingerly writing our names in the air with sparklers, my sisters and I thought that was the bomb! Then our father would set off some 'safe and sane' numbers out in the street. There were no bottle rockets, molotov cocktails or tree fires. Just good old-fashioned patriotic fun.
Somewhere, i'm sure, there was mischief, as there will likely be again tomorrow. But on this Fourth of July eve, herewith are some important things to remember:
Be obedient. Respect authority and the traffic cops policing crowds. If you aren't in familiar surroundings, make yourself familiar with the restrictions regarding firworks, alcohol consumption, etc. When someone else gets ticketed, you'll be glad you did.
Be respectful of the property of others - whether it be public or private. July Fourth IS NOT a license to disregard the rights of others and torch consideration in a blaze of glory.
Clean up after yourself. Make sure you have a bucket of water on hand for the used fireworks, along with trash bags to haul your leftovers. Don't assume someone else will come and clean your mess!
If you plan to put on your own show, keep it LEGAL. Don't endanger yourself and others by lighting up gunpowder in order to show your patriotic pride.
Remember, too, to respect the noise ordinance. If you are still firing off smoke bombs at midnight, your neighbors will want to declare their independence from you!
The Fourth of July, wrapped in stars, stripes, patriotism and good times, should also be a display of the very best in us, courteous and civilized, respectful behavior. Because It 'Manners' A lot!
Happy Birthday America!
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