My high school alumnae newsletter arrived in the mail at the end of last week. The first thing I do upon receiving either my high school newsletter or my college alumni magazine is turn to the class notes section and see what my classmates have been up to. Alas, in lieu of news of the Class of 1982 were a mere three words: Class scribe needed.

With the image of those words still fresh on my retinas, I sprang into action and emailed the school's Director of Alumnae to volunteer. The next school day (i.e. this morning), I received a reply and a list of alumnae emails with which to get started. Unfortunately, only a small percentage of our class have email addresses on file with the school, and my emails to several of those have already bounced back.

In the unlikely event that any members of Notre Dame Academy's class of 1982 are reading this, please contact me via the link in the right sidebar, or look for the "NDA-Worcester '82" group that will be active on Facebook before this week is out. I would love to hear from you, even if you have nothing to share in the next newsletter.

—KAJ

Labels: old friends

It sounds sexist, but it's true. Most of the greatest love songs of all time were written by men. Granted, what I consider the greatest may not be everyone else's bag, and some of them are rather obscure. There are a many, though, that most of you would know.

Take this one, written by the wildly successful '60s and '70s pop songwriting duo of Burt Bacharach and Hal David. In my best Casey Kasem voice, I'd like to make this a long-distance dedication to LOML.

The moment I wake up
Before I put on my makeup
I say a little prayer for you
While combing my hair now
And wondering what dress to wear now
I say a little prayer for you

Forever, forever, you'll stay in my heart
And I will love you
Forever and ever, we never will part
Oh, how I'll love you
Together, together, that's how it must be
To live without you
Would only mean heartbreak for me

I run for the bus, dear
While riding I think of us, dear
I say a little prayer for you
At work I just take time
And all through my coffee break time
I say a little prayer for you
Forever, forever, you'll stay in my heart
And I will love you
Forever and ever, we never will part
Oh, how I'll love you
Together, together, that's how it must be
To live without you
Would only mean heartbreak for me

My darling, believe me
For me there is no one but you
Please love me too
I'm in love with you
Answer my prayer
Say you love me too . . .

Labels: music

I walk along the city streets you used to walk along with me
And every step I take reminds me of just how we used to be

I would apologize for quoting cheesy '80s love song lyrics, but the song was actually written more than 45 years ago by Burt Bacharach and Hal David, then covered by Naked Eyes in 1983. So it's really a cheesy '60s love song.

Anyway, have you ever tried to get your mind off something or someone, only to repeatedly see and hear things that draw your attention right back? That has been my day so far. Don't worry if the following makes no sense to you; trust me that there is indeed a pattern there, and it made the morning a challenge.

1. While looking for a reasonably convenient parking space in my designated employee lot this morning, I noticed two Mercedes sedans. I don't recall ever before seeing a Mercedes in that particular parking lot.
2. Music is good for the soul, but it can also evoke unwelcome emotions. To avoid the latter, I left my mp3 player at home and instead brought in a CD I ordered last week that arrived by UPS yesterday: The Rensselaer Anthology, a collection of songs either about my alma mater or performed by music organizations there. The RPI Fight Song should be pretty safe, right? Alas, being a big hockey school, any RPI collection must also include the two national anthems most likely to be performed at a hockey game, "The Star Spangled Banner" and "O Canada." Had I read the product description before ordering, I would have been prepared for that.
3. What more foolproof distraction from life's tribulations could there be than an online feature about the most stylish Bostonians of 2009? That was my expectation when I clicked to view a Boston Globe feature on that very topic. I didn't expect to see among the honorees Carol Sawyer Parks of Sawyer Enterprises, developer of Starwood Hotels and Resorts' new W Boston Hotel.
4. Finally, my first instinct upon hearing an hour and a half ago that Boston Bruins forward David Krejci has swine flu was to forward the text message bearing the news to the biggest hockey fan I know, who also happens to be the person the above three incidents reminded me of.

The moral of the story, I suppose, is that some days just aren't meant to be easy.

Labels: life, remember

The only thing that surprises me is that anyone believes Barack Obama any more.

President Barack Obama's economic recovery program saved 935 jobs at the Southwest Georgia Community Action Council, an impressive success story for the stimulus plan. Trouble is, only 508 people work there.

[ . . . ]

About two-thirds of the 14,506 jobs claimed to be saved under one federal office, the Administration for Children and Families at Health and Human Services, actually weren't saved at all, according to a review of the latest data by The Associated Press. Instead, that figure includes more than 9,300 existing employees in hundreds of local agencies who received pay raises and benefits and whose jobs weren't saved.

[ . . . ]

"If I give you a raise, it is going to save a portion of your job," HHS spokesman Luis Rosero said.

If you are thinking this is proof that the current administration doesn't know what they're doing, you would be correct.

(Hat tip: Glenn Reynolds.)

Labels: politics

But that doesn't mean it isn't on the mark.

Marking the one-year anniversary of his historic election to the presidency, Barack Obama delivered a major speech today in which he said he had "fulfilled the vague and diffuse catchphrases laid out in my campaign."

Labels: fun, politics

This just came into my cell phone:

WEEI FLASH: Bruins GM Peter Chiarelli announces the clubs [sic] medical staff has confirmed a diagnosis of H1N1 for David Krejci. Visit http://www.weei.com/ for more

Not being a big fan of WEEI, I went instead to the horse's mouth, which doesn't say much more besides adding that "[b]ased on Centers for Disease Control (CDC) recommendations, Krejci will be isolated from the rest of the team until he is symptom and fever free for 24 hours."

Boston Globe writer Fluto Shinzawa helpfully points out that Krejci "will not play tonight." Gee, thanks for clearing that up, Fluto.

In any event, the Den Mother sends chicken soup best wishes to David for a speedy recovery.

Labels: health, sports

For the last 3 1/2 months, I have been swept up in an intense personal experience than has had me writing, a lot. What I wrote was for the eyes of one person, who read my words in a private online location. At some point, I realized that I had only so much "writing energy," and by the time I was finished writing there, I had nothing left to post here. Besides, anything I would have posted here seemed unimportant in comparison.

My writing to that very special person has come to an end. Theoretically, that will free me up for more pontifications and opinionations (is that a word? If it isn't, it should be, don't you agree?) that can be posted here. To what extend that happens in the near future remains to be seen. I'm just not in the mood for blogging right now.

Until I am again, I will leave you readers with a bit of advice. If you have good things in your life, don't take them for granted. You never know when they won't be there any more. And if that one special person happens to be reading this, I hope he knows that I have never, for even one second in the last 28 years, taken him for granted.

Labels: life

Somehow, I missed the news that they now let idiots run schools, but such is the case near my old college stomping grounds:

Matthew Whalen, a 17-year-old senior at Lansingburgh [New York] High School, was placed on a 20-day suspension after school officials found a two-inch pocketknife in the glove compartment of his car.

Whalen, who keeps his vehicle packed with a survival kit in accordance with the Boy Scout motto of always being prepared, has been concerned that record of his suspension may affect his application to West Point later this month.

[ . . . ]

According to the Lansingburgh School District's policies on student conduct, possessing a weapon or displaying what appears to be a weapon fall under prohibited "examples of violent conduct" and that only authorized law enforcement officials are permitted to possess a weapon while on school property or at a school function.

This is almost as stupid as the time I was told by a TSA agent that I couldn't carry a bottle of Cover Girl liquid foundation make-up onto a commercial flight, but a 33-ounce baseball bat I could have used to fracture someone's skull was A-OK.

Labels: things stupid people say/do

Your man s ship won t sunk

Labels: things stupid people say/do

My only excuse is that I have been expending my writing energy on online chat with a very important person and with writing in my journal. Once I get all that private stuff out of my system, the last thing I want to do is write some more, even for you nice readers.

I'll try harder from now on.

Labels: life

I am in the throes of an agonizing personal issue at the moment. I am looking for solace in the following piece, a copy of which my father gave me when I was a teenager. At the time, I didn't understand or appreciate it. The more I live, the more I understand. I offer it here as a blessing to my readers, one in particular.

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

Labels: life

Worcester Tornadoes and former Red Sox minor league pitcher Greg Montalbano died Friday after battling cancer off and on throughout his adult life.

I was stunned when my mother mentioned this to me after seeing it in this morning's newspaper. Last season, while Montalbano was undergoing treatment for a recurrence of what was originally testicular cancer, the Tornadoes had an enormous get-well card that fans could sign at a couple of the games. If I had followed the team more closely this season (I've only been to two games), I might have known how serious his condition was.

Montalbano grew up in this area and was an alumnus of St. John's High School, which my brother and son also attended. As a Tornadoes player pitching in front of his hometown crowd, he was like every fan's son or brother. So this is sad for us fans, even those like me who didn't know him. My prayers go out to his family and friends, and especially his sister, who now joins me and millions of heartbroken others in a club to which no young person should have to belong.

Labels: local, remember

Entirely lost in the current debate over President Obama's proposed overhaul of the medical insurance marketplace is the fact that we already know what federal involvement in medical coverage would look like. We already have it. It's called Medicare (for retired and disabled people) and Medicaid (for poor people). Let me tell you a story about Medicare.

The Den Mother's Mother has a cardiac condition. It isn't imminently life-threatening, but its manifestations have grown more frequent and more severe over the years and the treatment less effective. Unless adequately treated, it eventually would be fatal.

Fortunately, DMM has an excellent cardiologist in Boston. He recently proposed two treatment options: one medical, one surgical. The medical option is less invasive, but it may only work for a year or two, or not at all. The surgical option is more permanent, but it's more expensive. DMM, who has the advantage of being a registered nurse, was weighing both options carefully.

It appears that since the conversation with the cardiologist, Medicare has decided to stop covering the surgical procedure in question, at least if the medical option is still on the table. Even before "health care reform" has been implemented, Obama's red pill/blue pill scenario is playing out. Right now, the medical option for DMM is cheaper and, on the surface, works just as well as the surgery. Simple, right?

Not so fast. Medical decisions aren't made in a time vacuum. DMM could choose the cheaper medical option now, but what if its effectiveness is temporary and she needs the surgical option a couple years down the road? She will be older and, consequently, a worse surgical risk then. If that is the case, the removal of the surgical option now, while making immediate financial sense, may mean a shortening of her life or a deterioration in the quality of life or even, if we're going to be cold bean counters, more expensive in the long run.

Obama insists that his plan to "reform" medical care in this country isn't about denying coverage or "pulling the plug on Grandma." He decries for-profit insurance companies that deny costly treatments. But since the United States government (in the form of Medicare) is already doing that, how will a so-called public option—or the left wing's self-stated ultimate goal, a single-payer national medical system—be any better than the private insurance options? In fact, won't it be worse? For-profit insurers who provide a poor product lose customers to insurers who do better, and the lousy ones end up going out of business. The federal government doesn't go out of business; it just keeps taking more of our money or, absent that option, cuts services.

We can all agree it's a safe bet that the wonderful public option Obama is trying to ram through Congress isn't good enough for the President, his family, or members of Congress. That's why Congress will exempt itself from whatever bill ends up being filed, as they do with other bills that place burdens and restrictions on the rest of us.

If it isn't good enough for them, it isn't good enough for my mother.

Labels: family, politics

Earlier this evening.

The Den Son: Why are you doing your nails? Do you have a date?

The Den Mother: Are you serious? I haven't had a date in months.

The Den Son: I was hoping you were going to say you haven't had a date in years. And I don't want to know.

Labels: family

In case you haven't already noticed, there's something for you in the sidebar.

For those to whom this post makes no sense, don't worry. It isn't for you.

The flag-draped casket containing the remains of U.S. Navy Capt. Scott Speicher arrived in Jacksonville, Florida, yesterday and lay in repose overnight at All Saints Chapel, Naval Air Station Jacksonville.

I am watching the video stream from channel 4 in Jacksonville, Florida, as they cover the memorial motorcade carrying Capt. Speicher.

Even though I didn't know him, I am sad beyond words. I sent his widow the POW-MIA bracelet I wore for him for 5 1/2 years. My bracelet and those worn by others and returned to the family will be buried with him.

Labels: remember

"Menopause is a natural and important part of every woman's life. Most women experience this stage after age 40 and spend a third of their life in this phase."

So saith WebMD, and when I read that last part, I yelled out loud.

It would appear that I am in the stage known as perimenopause, a self-diagnosis based on a recent spate over the last several months of hot flashes and a couple other symptoms that frankly are too embarrassing to mention on a public blog. And considering some other topics I've blogged about in the past, that's saying something.

Hot flashes are no fun at any time of year, but they're especially troublesome in the summer. Granted, it's one of the coolest summers I can remember, and I live, work, and drive in air-conditioned comfort, but unfortunately that doesn't help me outdoors or at work, where the facilities department has politely but firmly refused to lower the air conditioning to 66 degrees when I'm flashing.

Earlier this week, one of my co-workers was kind enough to bring in the above pictured "hot flash fanner" that she got when she turned 50. She has passed it along to me like a baton in the relay race of life. And last night, my son bought me an oscillating fan. All of this means, naturally, that I haven't had a hot flash all week. But when they return, I'll be ready.

Coincidentally, at the end of this month, I'm going with two work friends (including the one who gave me the folding fan) to see Menopause: The Musical. I hope the theater cranks up the A/C.

Labels: for women

Megan McArdle posted yesterday about some disturbing (to me, at least) poll results.

According to a new survey from Indiana University and the University of Utah finds that a huge majority of Americans think that women should change their last names when they marry. And they're not sure we should stop at moral suasion...

She links to this article from a DC television station.

About 70% of Americans agree, either somewhat or strongly, that it's beneficial for women to take her husband's last name when they marry, while 29% say it's better for women to keep their own names, finds a study being presented today at the American Sociological Association's annual meeting in San Francisco. [ . . . ] Hamilton says that about half of respondents went so far as to say that the government should mandate women to change their names when they marry, a finding she called "really interesting," considering typical attitudes towards government intervention.

Good grief. For several reasons, I am almost speechless. But not quite.

I am single and have been for all of my 40-something years. I passed half the average life expectancy of the average American woman several years ago; if I live as long as my grandmothers did, I'm almost halfway through. That's a long time to have a name, and if I were to get married at some point, I wouldn't be inclined to give it up and the identity that goes with it. But for me, it's a matter of feminist principle, and I began to feel this way in my 20s. For that matter, I also question the tradition of patrimony in children's names and wonder on what logical basis most men would refuse to give their children—not to mention themselves—their wives' family names. Really, the only reason to stick with the established custom is because that's the way we've always done it and we've never done it any other way. That is never, in itself, a good reason for anything.

Let's not even get into the notion of the government requiring the supremacy of the male name, a topic about which I could write pages.

(Hat tip: Glenn Reynolds.)

Labels: gender issues

Eunice Kennedy Shriver, the founder of Special Olympics, died earlier today at the age of 88.

The fifth of Rose Fitzgerald and Joseph Kennedy's nine children and the sister of two United States Senators and a President, Shriver might have had a tremdous political career in her own right but for the inherent and persistent sexism within the Kennedy family. Undaunted, she found other ways to do what she believed in, most notably by founding Special Olympics in 1968 as a means of changing public perception of mentally retarded people like her older sister, Rosemary. Just last year she credited the unfairness she witnessed and experienced as having affected the way she lived her life.

But in a strange way perhaps, my life is also about the adversity I encountered. I believe I am even lucky that I experienced the sting of rejection as a woman who was told that real power was not for me. I am lucky that I saw my mother and my sister Rosemary treated with the most unbearable rejection. I am lucky that I confronted political and social injustice against people with intellectual disabilities all over the world throughout my career.

As much as she was an activist and advocate for the mentally disabled, she was also ardently feminist and pro-life. Her above-referenced remarks included a reference to her pro-life beliefs, a polite but clear rebuke to people who maintain that disability is a valid reason for abortion or who abandon the disabled after birth.

And let us be clear: despite all the progress of recent years, our special friends are still under threat. Some would rather eliminate them than improve the quality of life. Others would rather cut costs than create real opportunity. Still others would just rather move on. For our part, let us make our stand on human dignity. Let us make our stand on justice.

I am particularly aware of Shriver's pro-life work because of her support and help to Feminists for Life of America at a time when the organization was growing and changing, a time during which I was involved at the national level. FFL honored her as a "Remarkable Pro-Life Woman" and today issued a statement about her death, noting her constant commitment to women's and pro-life causes.

Susan B. Anthony Birthplace Museum founder Carol Crossed introduced FFL President Serrin M. Foster to Ms. Shriver at a pro-life dinner in 1994. "Ms. Shriver asked me to help organize an event in her home honoring Mary Cunningham Agee of the Nurturing Network. I was happy to help host an event for an organization focused on serving pregnant women in college and in the workplace."

A child of privilege, Eunice Kennedy Shriver grew up to be an unwavering voice for the unprivileged. Her contributions will long outlive her.

Labels: activism, remember

Earlier this year, my employer announced plans to move our Massachusetts headquarters office from our current location in an aging, inefficient building to a new space to be constructed in the new City Square project. We are proud to be anchoring this downtown renewal project that is finally underway despite the incompetence of the Worcester City Council.

A groundbreaking feature of our new digs is that the building will be Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design (LEED) certified at the silver level, which my cousin the interior designer tells me is a really big deal. The space will also be configured to make best use of the space, and in today's paperless work environment, that means that each employee needs less physical space.

With some trepidation, some of my co-workers have begun to worry what will become of their current spacious work areas which afford not only privacy but plenty of moving-around room. In an effort to provide answers, the Den Mother has obtained previously undisclosed photographs of the cubicles offered by the three top vendors submitting bids for furnishing the new building.

Option 1: The Deluxe. This is the most spacious of the three options. Note the optional "privacy canopy," purchased separately.

Option 2: The Standard. Less privacy than the Deluxe, but on the bright side, you can hear your co-workers' personal telephone conversations.

Option 3: The Economy. Space-efficient and environmentally friendly, this model is made from 100% recycled and recyclable materials.

Labels: work