How I Know Winter's Officially Over, The Joy of Spellcheck, Why I Blog

While snow was still falling this morning on eastern Long Island, the City of White Plains officially declared the end of winter. Not by proclamation, mind you, or by adherence to the astronomical calendar which placed the end of winter last Thursday. 

Rather, White Plains put action behind its conviction that no more massive storms will drop snow within our fair city’s borders. A Dept. of Public Works employee came by this morning to remove the red metal pole and flag from atop the fire hydrant in my cul de sac. There’s still an iceberg of slowly melting snow in front of the hydrant, but the city no doubt is confident its trucks will not have to plow any more flakes onto the heap.

Spellcheck Doesn’t Catch Everything: If I have one continuous fault I am willing to own up to, it is my inability to let small writing and speaking mistakes escape my correction. I particularly find “between you and I” to be highly objectionable. Are we not teaching that “between” is a preposition and that the object of a preposition can only be “me,” not “I”?

Not that I am infallible. It is très difficult to edit one’s own copy and speech, though I did have a rule on my magazine that any copy editor who changed even a comma in my manuscripts had to first run it by me for approval, or else. 

I've become a little less pedantic in my dotage, except when it comes to résumés and cover letters I review. But I still occasionally point out an error when I am amused by its presence. Such was the case in an email from Ellie earlier this week suggesting a visit to the Metropolitan Museum of Art where she works. 

“I just wondered through this contemporary Chinese art show, which closes April 6, and it was so good … maybe you could see this show … It's great how it's installed among the rest of the collection, rather than in a separate gallery,” she wrote.

To which I replied, in part: “Don’t take this the wrong way, that is me trying to correct you all the time, but I was tickled by a mistake you made in your note that actually makes perfect sense. You wrote, you "wondered" through the art show. You probably meant "wandered," but wondered actually conveys a real sense of discovery and joy.”

Spellcheck doesn’t work when the wrong word is spelled correctly. Sometimes, it’s for the best. BTW, Gilda and I will be going to see the exhibit next week. For those who can, take Ellie’s suggestion and see it, as well.

Preserving the Past: It is difficult to gauge how readers will react to any single post. Monday’s story about my father’s reunion in Perth, Australia, with his first love elicited some heartwarming notes of personal stories from their respective families. 

When I started this blog four and a half years ago one of my objectives was to initiate remembrances among readers through the stories of my family’s history. While I wanted to bring you into the Forseter family sphere, I would have been less than fulfilled if I did not make you reflect on your own, individual heritage.

I am not alone in trying to capture history for the next generation. The NY Times recently ran an article titled, “Preserving Family History, One Memory at a Time,” ( http://www.nytimes.com/2014/03/16/business/preserving-family-history-one-memory-at-a-time.html?ref=business). 

As far back as the mid-1980s my brother, sister and I videotaped our parents and their siblings. Within the last year I transferred the tapes onto DVDs, and with the help of our nephew Eric have made copies for each of our children. For Gilda’s family there’s a DVD of their early life in Saratoga Springs, NY. 

Sherlock Holmes is one of my favorite fiction characters. It would not be too much of a stretch to quote his oft-repeated phrase, “Time is of the essence.” If you’re not already doing something to preserve your patrimony, get cracking. 

Winter Is Officially Over; Men Still Behave Badly

The calendar proclaimed it happened March 20, but I declare today the official end of winter and the beginning of spring. Today marks the day I ran the motor dry in my snowblower and stored it away in the shed, took out Gilda’s gardening wheelbarrow and removed the cozies from two of our outdoor faucets. 

Yes, spring was definitely in the air today, sunny with almost no breeze. I even fed the birds, giving them leftover Passover-version Cheerios (they’re really vile tasting, but the birds don’t seem to mind), and crunched up whole wheat matzah. D’ya think it will have the same binding effect on the birds? 

Is it a surprise to anyone that men behave badly? Specifically, men with authority who coach athletic teams and other groups where discipline is demanded. 

The abusive behavior of Rutgers men’s basketball coach Mike Rice toward his players led to his dismissal Thursday, days after a series of videos surfaced of him taunting his players with homophobic slurs, hitting them at close range with thrown basketballs, kicking them and otherwise manhandling them. Sadly, it wasn’t the first nor will it be the last time a coach acts badly. It happens in almost all sports.

But as I tuned into the last few minutes of a segment on WNYC’s Brian Lehrer Show today, I was intrigued by the comments a sportswriter guest made. Rice’s behavior toward these collegiate athletes was no worse than they might have experienced had they been new soldiers undergoing basic training in the Marines or Army. I am in no way trying to justify Rice’s actions. But it seems we surely have reached a point where college sports have stepped over a line that separates it from the rest of our society. Sports have transcended the educational purpose of higher education. I’m not sure we will ever rebalance our priorities, not when athletics produces oodles and oodles of dollars for universities, nor when the commander-in-chief’s picks for March Madness command as much if not more air time than wars in the Mid-East or hunger in America.

As if to reinforce that thought about war in Iraq and Afghanistan, Lehrer noted the intense interest in the compound leg fracture sustained by Louisville’s Kevin Ware during a game against Duke last weekend. Many people want to watch the video of the mishap. Yet, Lehrer pointed out, as gruesome as the injury was, it was not as bad as what happens every day in war zones, to civilians and to military personnel. We are shielded from viewing those traumas. The wars, it seems, are not for public consumption.

  

Odds & Ends

It was more than a little eerie to see Bonnie Brooks named head of Lord & Taylor on January 23 and three days later see retired L&T CEO Joseph Brooks had died at age 84. To the best of my knowledge, the two Brookses are related by last name only, but that didn’t still the willies that shuttered through my body.

Joe Brooks was one of the first retail executives my magazine profiled shortly after I took editorial command in early 1979. Four years earlier he had taken charge of Lord & Taylor, returning the specialty department store to a luster not known since the legendary Dorothy Shaver was its president in the 1930s. He restored the long-stemmed rose as the company’s corporate logo, made American designers a focal point of merchandising, and ordered the playing of the national anthem each morning in the flagship Fifth Avenue store.

Joe Brooks was very mindful of image. Accordingly, he refused to carry “see-through lingerie” and “hooker shoes,” footwear with very high heels and platforms. Lord & Taylor no longer abides by those restrictions.


For the Record: I hate making mistakes, but my last two posts contained numerical errors, both since corrected on the blog site. My Monday entry on the Florida primary incorrectly stated the number of delegates awarded the winner of the Sunshine State Republican presidential primary. It is 50, not 55.

Tuesday’s Super Bowl forecast put the final score as New York Giants 24, New England Patriots 17. It should have been Giants 25, Patriots 17. The Giants will score two touchdowns (12 points), two points after touchdown (2), three field goals (9) and one safety (2) for a total of 25.


Weather Indicator: Temperatures topped 60 degrees today, sufficiently abnormal to fool even hibernating bees into awakening from their dormancy. With the car window rolled down I caught one taking a rest on my left thumb as I waited at a red light.

Birds have provided another natural indication of our topsy-turvy winter weather. They aren’t eating as much seed or suet as in years’ past as they have been able to find organic delights in the absence of snow cover. Mind you, I’m not complaining. Nor are the squirrels who have become quite aggressive lately. One in particular has figured out how to get into two feeders.

Denied entry from above because of a squirrel baffle, he’s shown Olympian dexterity in doing a standing high jump of about four feet to the bottom of the metal hanging cage housing the seed bowl. He grasps it and hoists himself up and over the side into seed heaven for the few moments before I shoo him out. To thwart this athletic assault I’ve changed bowls, suspending a plastic bowl that doesn’t need to sit in a wire cage. I hope it works.

The squirrel has a second way to get to the goodies. He shimmies down the chain suspending the bowl from a tree limb, but instead of trying to get around the baffle to get inside the bowl, he leaps to a nearby birdseed house, pushes up the roof which slides up to permit more seed to be stored, and jumps in for a meal unseen by any of his compatriots. I was flabbergasted when I saw this and quickly had to shift the location of the birdseed house to a spot I hope is too far for his acrobatic legerdemain. Again, I hope this works.