Maybe I’m a Good-Luck Charm

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ND 31, MSU 13

Somebody needs to tell Notre Dame Coach Brian Kelly that I’m his team’s Good Luck Charm.

Seriously.

And he should think about providing me with a season pass — sidelines would be good — for as long as my charming ways continue.

Which could be forever.

Not convinced? Okay, let’s look at the facts:

  • The Record. Going into this game, the Fighting Irish were 0-2, after being nationally ranked prior to the season’s start. The Spartans of Michigan State University were 2-0. Logic tells me MSU should have won, but the Irish pulled out a convincing 31-13 victory. Because I was there!
  • The Weather. Two weeks ago, Notre Dame’s initial home game was caught in a series of wicked storms, causing the game to be rain-delayed, twice. But this Saturday’s weather was perfect — sunny and pleasant — all because I showed up!
  • The Band. The Band of the Fighting Irish couldn’t take to the field for their first home game, due to inclement weather. Ostensibly, this meant that long hard hours of marching and playing were flushed down the drain. But because I was there, the Band performed that halftime show post-game, letting fans see what they missed and giving music-lovers two halftime shows!
  • Turnovers. Notre Dame led the nation in its first two games with 10 turnovers — yikes. You can’t win football games like that. So, thanks to my presence on Saturday, the turnovers were limited to just three (still too many, but hey, I did what I could!)
  • Fake Field Goal. Last year, MSU’s fake field goal play caught the Irish by surprise and sent the game into overtime, where the Spartans were victorious. They tried again on Saturday, but this time the Irish were ready and foiled the attempt. Because I was there!

So Coach Kelly, if you’re reading this, please rest assured it was my Good-Luck Charm presence that led to your practically perfect outcome on Saturday.

And I think I could handle a reward in the way of some freebie tickets. That sounds fair, doesn’t it?

Okay, maybe I had a little help from former U.S. Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice, who was back at her ND alma mater for the same weekend.

She can share the glory. I’ll stick with the free tickets!

Of Rings and Things

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The third year of college, similar to the junior year of high school, is unique in that generally, this is the year students are allowed to choose their class rings.

ND class rings, large and small

Four years ago, My Favorite Domer (AKA College Guy) refused to have a high school class ring, even when I offered to pick up the tab for it.

‘I’d only wear it two years at most,’ he said. ‘Why spend a couple of hundred dollars on something like that?’

Part of me agreed with him. It was a rather senseless-sounding expense.

But back in the day, most of us wore our high school rings into college, thereby extending the practicality of the purchase.

Different times, I guess.

In the spring semester of his sophomore year, I received a flyer with information on ordering College Guy’s class ring — a ring he wouldn’t be allowed to receive or wear until two weeks into his junior year — and I shared it with him over the phone.

‘Definitely!’ he answered to my question about his desire for one.

When he came home in May, we pored over the brochure and the Website, examining the options, weighing the costs of the different metals, finishes, stones and sizes. Soon he knew exactly what he wanted.

So over the summer we trekked to South Bend and placed the order. It was way more money than either of us wanted to spend, but how can one put a price tag on memories?

Recently he called and announced he’d gotten his ring. I won’t get to see it for a while, but I marvel at the tradition, the history:

  • Notre Dame class rings haven’t changed since they were first offered, some 80 years ago!
  • Rings are worn with the school name facing the owner until that person graduates; the ring is then “turned outward to face the world.”
  • Class rings feature shamrocks, Celtic font, a cross, the interlocking ND, the school seal, and the Dome.
  • Rings can be personalized with initials, name, and graduation year.

Do you still have your class ring, from high school or college? Does it hold special memories for you?

Remembering Sept. 11, 2001

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I’d just started my new Web Design business three months previously and was actively seeking new clients and new projects.

Earlier in the week I’d been contacted by one of the officers of our local shopping mall association. They had a Website but it wasn’t doing everything they wanted it to, nor did it look as inviting as they knew shoppers expected.

Would I come by the morning of Sept. 11, 2001, and do a presentation for them? Nothing too fancy, nothing too formal. Just kind of let them know how I could transform their online presence, as well as a general idea how much that would cost.

Sure. Of course. I was elated! Something this big had the potential of changing my life.

Gathering my presentation materials — informational fliers, business cards, etc. — that morning, I fought back a case of nerves as I pulled into the mall parking lot.

I’ve met most of these people before, I told myself. I can do this. It won’t cost them a fortune. I need the business, and doing such a potentially-extensive site will look good on my portfolio.

I had my car radio on but wasn’t really listening to it. I was previewing in my mind’s eye my presentation — visualizing success, I believe they call it.

Suddenly the announcer screamed something like, “Oh, my God, NO!” and started talking about a plane flying into a tower in New York City.

The news-hound in me wanted to learn more. I wanted to be in front of the TV like I was during Space Shuttle Challenger’s ill-fated explosion shortly after takeoff in 1986.

It was incomprehensible to me that, in the midst of all that destruction and loss of life, my life was going on.

Now my nerves became super-charged as I walked into the mall. Everyone was talking about the disaster, speculating on the whys and whos. After introductions, I began my presentation, sensing that no one was really listening, no one was really caring.

I could hardly wait to wrap things up, to get back home where I could glue myself to the TV.

And I did. Just like hundreds of thousands of people worldwide.

My Flag will be flying tomorrow, and my thoughts and prayers will be offered up for my innocent fellow Americans who lost their lives, their family members, their jobs.

By the way, I wasn’t selected for the mall project, but my life did change — other projects have come along, other BIG news has taken place. I’ve come to a deeper faith, to an inner conviction that, regardless of what terrors this world throws at us, the final outcome is cause for joy. God wins!

Safe in the Storm

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My Favorite Domer (AKA College Guy) called me around 9:30 Saturday evening to inform me their first football game had finally ended.

I already knew that, of course, because I was watching as much as I could. What I didn’t know was whether he was safe, so his call served to relieve my fears. Let me explain.

The skies over South Bend were wild and wooly, beginning Saturday afternoon as the Irish hosted South Florida.

Temperatures were in the mid-90s. It was sultry. Steamy. Still.

I don’t know how football players are expected to perform their best when conditions are that unbearable.

Maybe they’re used to that in South Florida — yeah, they probably are! — but not in northern Indiana.

Anyway, the Irish came into Saturday’s game sporting a #16 national ranking. To say they appeared full of themselves might be an understatement. To say the first half proved a comeuppance for them couldn’t be truer.

The Irish fumbled. Their passes were intercepted. They racked up as many personal fouls as a team of junkyard dogs.

South Florida led going into halftime 16-0.

As the Irish Band prepared to take the field, the weather began changing — rapidly.

The wind picked up. Dark clouds rolled in from the west.

The announcer told the Band to stay off the field and instructed fans to clear the stadium. A severe storm cell was approaching, with potentially dangerous cloud-to-ground lightning and heavy rain.

(College Guy told me it looked like a hurricane outside.)

Just over two hours later, the game resumed. The heat had broken; fans returned.

Finally the Irish were able to put some points on the board.

But in the fourth quarter, another severe storm approached, halting the game again. The TV station covering the action broke away to other programming; I scrambled to ESPN, where I was at least able to watch the scrolling scores.

And I worried. When your kid is away from home in bad weather, that’s what moms do.

I couldn’t do anything about it, but I worried.

All in all, it was a l-o-n-g game, six hours total. And the outcome was dismal, an Irish loss 23-20.

But when I heard my son’s voice on the other end of the line, I rejoiced. He was safe and so were the other attendees.

And that’s really the best news of all.

Determined Weeds

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Weeds, I’m afraid, have gotten creative in Central Illinois.

It’s been ages since we’ve had significant rain — the figure that sticks in my mind is less than an inch in the past 30 days, combined with temps in the 90s. We’re not as bad off as Texas and Oklahoma, but a drought is a drought.

Just this week the national Drought Monitor upgraded most of Illinois (except the Chicago area) from “moderate” to “severe” drought status.

No kidding. When everybody’s yard looks like this:

Dried-out lawn

Well, that looks like a drought to me!

Some cities have taken to voluntary or mandatory conservation. Stream and lake levels are low, crops are beginning to suffer. The rains that flirt with our area seem to fizzle or produce just a few drops before moving on.

So our weeds are showing up in the most unlikely of places.

Like in between bricks:

weed in bricks

and in driveways:

driveway weeds

and on sidewalks:

sidewalk weeds

alongside fences:

climbing weed on fence

in between landscaping rocks:

weed in rocks

and even in the streets:

street weeds

The weather casters keep promising us rain. They can promise all they want; they don’t control the weather. But it could be worse — too much rain, in the form of hurricanes, is just as devastating as too little.

Meanwhile, the weeds don’t seem to care. They’re invincible, tenacious, and ever-present. As Dave Barry has said: Crabgrass can grow on bowling balls in airless rooms, and there is no known way to kill it that does not involve nuclear weapons.

Are you being a persistent weed today?

Weighing in on “The Help”

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Against my better judgment, I accompanied my mom to see “The Help” at the theater the other day.

Mom’s a native Mississippian, and I just knew she’d sit there grumbling for the entire two-hour showing — “They didn’t get that right.” “It wasn’t like that at all.” “Everybody wants to make Mississippi out to be worse than it was.”

And so on.

Truth be told, I had some doubts of my own. Let’s face it, the girl who wrote this book isn’t old enough to recall 1960s Mississippi (not that mom could help her — by that time, she and Daddy were living way north of the Mason-Dixon line!)

But everything I’d read and heard said ‘Go, anyway,’ so we went.

And I was pleasantly surprised.

Author Kathryn Stockett grew up in Jackson, MS; her single mother and her African-American housekeeper raised her. Before signing on with Putnam, she endured some 60 rejection letters for this, her first novel.

In fact, before the book was even published, her lifelong friend Tate Taylor (also a Jackson native, also raised by a single mother and an African-American housekeeper) bought the film rights for “The Help.” Taylor, an Ole Miss grad, wrote the script and directed the film that opened to rave reviews earlier this month.

“The Help” is poignant on so many levels. It describes the multi-layered relationship black maids had with their white female employers in the early 1960s in the south; it speaks to the rules then in place for interactions between blacks and whites; it portrays societal mores of the time.

Some of it isn’t pleasant — some of the white women were horrid to their ‘help.’ Some were horrid to each other, too.

But much of it seems realistic — the fear of speaking out, the fear of crossing societal lines, the not knowing how friendly to be without actually being ‘friends.’

It’s funny; it’s sad; it’s a slice of life too long neglected, this tale of friendship and struggle and hope.

Stockett has said she wrote the book while she was away in New York, dearly missing the housekeeper she’d grown up with and wishing she’d had the chance to get inside her head and ask her what it was like to be her.

Tate, too, speaks lovingly of the maid who helped raise him. He says racism and bigotry form merely the backdrop of “The Help.” The real story, he insists, is about courage and integrity and the necessity for change.

Stockett said Mississippi, to her sons and daughters, is like a mother; one can complain all one wants about her, but don’t let anybody else say a bad word about her!

Maybe that’s what sold mom; I know it sold me. Stockett did her research, and it shows.

If you haven’t yet seen the movie or read the book, do so. For those who have, I’m interested in hearing your thoughts!

Mmm, a Sweet Award

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My friend Kathy over at Memoir Writer’s Journey has passed on to me the Irresistibly Sweet Blogger’s Award!

Here’s what it looks like:

Irresistibly Sweet Blog Award

A writer and retired family nurse practitioner, Kathy is penning a Christian-themed memoir. Her blog offers writing and publishing tips and links she’s run across in her journey. Hop on over and check her out.

As with any award, there are a few “rules and regulations” one must follow to accept the accolades. These include:

  1. Thank and link back to the person who gave you the award;
  2. List 7 random, little-known facts about yourself; and
  3. Present the award to at least 1 other sweet blogger.

Okay, I’ve checked and re-checked, and these “rules” keep changing, kind of like that game where one person whispers a secret to the person seated next to them, they tell the person on their other side, and so on until you get to the last person, who usually has a hilariously garbled version of the original secret.

Some of the “rules” say you have to pass the award to 7 other bloggers, some say 12 or 15.  Some specify you must notify the recipients you’ve pegged; others don’t mention anything about that. Consequently, I’m picking the rules I want to follow — what can I say, I’m used to being the boss!

I like the first rule. Gratitude is good. So, Thank You, Kathy, for passing the honor to me. You’re sweet to do so, and I’m going to treasure it!

I’m okay with the second rule (she said, taking a huge gulp of courage!). Some random facts about me that you might not know:

  1. I actually like to iron.
  2. I’ve been able to read upside down for a long time — comes in handy when you’re interviewing city officials, judges, etc.
  3. My first pet was a Weenie-dog.
  4. I don’t eat strawberries (can’t stand the way they feel in my mouth).
  5. My eyes were blue until I was two years old.
  6. Music helps me focus and work better.
  7. I’m a lifetime member of my college sorority.

Now, here are the bloggers (in no particular order) I’m passing this award on to next (and forgive me if you’ve already been tagged!):

Advice for Parents of Incoming Freshmen

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My son (AKA College Guy) and I have now survived three years of moving into and two years of moving out of a dorm. Thus, I feel qualified to offer some tips for parents whose sons or daughters are just beginning their university experience. Without further ado, here goes:

  1. Expect delays. Universities have been holding freshman move-in days forever, yet invariably there are glitches. Go figure. Somebody important doesn’t show up with the keys; the dorm room (or bathroom) isn’t cleaned; paperwork has been delayed. Keep cool; this too shall pass. And why, when they had months of favorable weather before, city and state road crews choose August for their major construction projects, I’ll never know!
  2. Be open to the experience. Maybe you went to college; maybe not. If you did, you don’t need to tell everybody every detail of it; if you didn’t, you don’t need to apologize. You’re there to help your new freshman physically move their “stuff” into the dorm, not to wax eloquent on your past. If the college offers parents’ orientation, go; you’ll learn a lot and meet other parents.
  3. Dust off your sense of humor. It can be quite funny to watch other parents and kids pull mound after mound of things from their vehicles, then try to wrestle it upstairs, down hallways, and into rooms. Don’t get into a snide-remark, snippy-attitude, screaming match with your kid while doing this. You don’t want their first semester away from home clouded by ill feelings.
  4. Leave them a bit of home. Homemade cookies are good. So are a book of stamps and stationery and a prepaid cell phone — you can’t expect them to pay to stay in touch! And if you don’t already know how, learn to text, video chat, and e-mail — at least.
  5. Congratulate yourself — To yourself. Hey, you done good! You’ve succeeded in rearing a son or daughter that a university wants and believes will succeed. This is one of their first steps toward real independence, toward adulthood. All your sacrifices and life lessons and nurturing haven’t been for naught!
  6. Expect to miss them. Even if this isn’t your first time moving an incoming freshman, you’re going to be surprised at how much you miss this child. You’ll remember little things — the way they square their shoulders as you leave, the tears they choke back when they hug you, the catch in your throat. You’ll see the little girl who didn’t want you to leave her at preschool, the little boy who skinned his knee sliding into second base. You’ll compare this to First Day of School. And it will be similar. Only this time, they might not turn to you for help and comfort; they’ll bravely try to handle it alone. Remind them you’re there, but don’t hover.
  7. Repeat — Don’t hover. Your child is no longer a baby. He/she is a young adult. Back off on micromanaging their life. Let them choose their room decor’; let them choose their course of study. If asked, you can certainly offer advice, but remember it’s their choice.
  8. Expect changes. For many young people, Thanksgiving is the first time they’ll be back home for a few days after the semester starts. They’ll have adjusted to a different schedule than the one they had while at home. The boy who refused to eat veggies might have become a vegetarian; the girl who sprang from bed for an early morning jog might not arise until noon. They’ve got to “try on” their new persona and as long as it’s not unhealthy or too disruptive, let them.
  9. Pray. Face it, there are plenty of things you can’t control. Put your youngster in God’s Hands and trust Him to care for them with tenderness and love.
  10. Fill your days with something meaningful. You’ll have more time on your hands, now that your child is in college. You don’t have to play taxi; you won’t have as much laundry or meal-preparation or noise. That can be lonely, unless you fill the hours with things you want to do — take up a new hobby or exercise class, finish college yourself or start a business, volunteer or concentrate on your own career.

Nine Tips for Incoming College Freshmen

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I just got back from dropping My Favorite Domer (AKA College Guy) on campus for his third (Junior) year.

Seeing the confusion on the faces of parents of incoming freshmen — and the fake bravado on their youngsters’ faces — I feel obliged to share some tips gleaned from this move-in experience, as well as hints for surviving that first year. Today I’m speaking directly to incoming freshmen (to keep it fair, I’ll be back Tuesday with advice for their parents!)

  1. You don’t need to bring everything you own. Yes, your Homecoming tiara is special to you. So’s the game ball from some high school sports competition. So’s your pet cat. Face it, chances are the university you’ve chosen won’t allow Fluffy in your dorm room. And suddenly you’re going to find yourself surrounded by kids just like you, kids who have also won awards and excelled. Unless you want to get into a bragging contest with them (trust me, you don’t), leave that stuff where it belongs, in the past, at home.
  2. Too many cooks spoil the broth. Your mom or your dad can help with your move-in. You don’t need both; nor do you need younger siblings or grandparents. Leaving home for the first time is likely to be enough of an emotional upheaval, without involving hangers-on who won’t be of much help anyway. Most schools have wheeled carts to help, as well as upperclassmen, and you don’t want everybody’s first impression of you to be that of a red-faced kid squabbling with his/her family.
  3. Be appreciative. Your parents are probably sacrificing their cushy retirement (well, hopefully not all of it!) to send you to college. Say “Thank you” once or twice. Maybe more. You are grateful, aren’t you?
  4. Expect to be embarrassed. You’re used to Dad’s comfy sweats and the way Mom shuffles her reading glasses on and off all day. Your peers, however, aren’t, and you might catch them making faces or snickering behind the adults’ backs. You might want to snicker, too. Don’t. You’ve known your parents longer than you’ve known any of these kids, and your loyalty should be to your family. And don’t laugh at their families, either — you might be working for them some day.
  5. Recall that “Sharing is caring and it can be fun.” You’ve probably already “met” your roommate through Facebook or a phone conversation. Try to get along, okay? Maybe you didn’t have to share tight quarters before, but you will now. He might snore or keep odd hours; she might listen to music 24/7, singing off-key to genres you dislike. You probably have equally annoying habits. Sit down like the young adults you are and draw up a set of mutually acceptable guidelines. And be grown up enough to revisit them if you find they’re not working.
  6. Watch your diet. They don’t call those extra pounds the “Freshman Fifteen” for nothing. When Mom’s not around to prepare healthy meals for you, it’s easy to slip into bad habits. Try to eat balanced meals and get some exercise every day (and no, pushing buttons on your video console doesn’t qualify as exercise!)
  7. Expect to be homesick. Even if you’ve been away from home before, you’ll find yourself missing it. Your old friends, your old haunts, your family, your routine. Trust me, it hits all of us, some harder than others and at different times. Don’t try to tough it out alone. That’s what counseling offices are for. Call home more often, at least until you’ve acclimated and made friends.
  8. Classes will be harder than you imagine. Maybe you made straight A’s in high school, but university is a whole new ball game. Expect to put in 2-3 hours outside class for every hour you spend in class. You’ll have papers and projects, presentations and exams. Keep up with the work on a daily basis. Seek help if you need it. Don’t stretch yourself too thin by joining every club imaginable. Start off on the right foot, making a favorable impression with your peers and professors. Oh, and catch some of those profs outside class — they can help you immensely.
  9. Be prudent. Be safe. Just because everybody is drinking doesn’t mean you have to. Don’t hook up with strangers. Stay away from the shady side of town. Don’t spend all your time partying. Remember, to somebody you’re the world, and their world would come crashing down should something horrid happen to you!

Thanks for Reading, Thanks for Commenting

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I was watching the finale of Season 7, The Next Food Network Star, last night (Jeff Mauro, the Sandwich King, won, in case you missed it), and something that was announced grabbed my attention.

Premiering on Aug. 27 will be a new show starring The Pioneer Woman, Ree Drummond, who has penned an immensely popular cookbook, memoir, and children’s book. She’s billed as a sassy, spoiled city girl turned rancher’s wife and home-schooling mom of four; her show will spotlight home cooking and life on the ranch.

What’s amazing to me is that Ree is a blogger. But not just any blogger.

She gets more than 20 million page views per month and received the Weblog of the Year award for 2009, 2010, and 2011.

Talk about a following!

Seriously, I can hardly fathom having that many people devouring my words on a regular basis. How does she ever keep up with the comments?!?

When I started this blog (shortly after returning from a Writer’s Digest Editor’s Intensive in October, 2009), I did so with a great deal of trepidation. I’ve written practically all my life, but the idea of putting my thoughts and words “out there” for all the world to see kinda gave me the heebie jeebies (yes, that’s a word — look it up!). The last thing I wanted or needed was having a bunch of strangers creeping on me.

Over time, however, it became apparent that the people reading my blogs were, in many cases, very much like me. As I read their thoughts and words in return, and as we commented on each other’s posts, I began to feel a kinship with them. I prayed for them, looked forward to learning more about them, and began to hope that somewhere along the line, maybe we’d actually meet in person.

That hasn’t happened, yet. But it’s okay. You don’t have to see friends every day to remain connected.

I’m thankful for every single one of my readers — whether they leave comments or not, whether I know them personally or not. They make me smile, or laugh out loud; they give me new ways of looking at things and advice when I ask for it.

Writing can be a lonely task. Knowing there are others traversing a similar path makes the journey more pleasant.

So go ahead and leave a comment. How can we connect if I don’t know who’s reading and what you’re thinking?