Susan's Scribblings the Blog

Monthly Archives: April 2024

• Setting Rights Right

  Posted at 3:41 pm by kayewer, on April 27, 2024

  As an American, I have a natural–as well as a lifelong cultured–allegiance to my country. Besides serving in two military branches for eight years, I have read and been taught about what it took for this huge piece of continent on Earth to become what it is. Some of the historical references have been altered or become fuzzy with time, but there are things to be learned about the good and bad that shaped the nation we live in. Sometimes we can learn the most by what wasn’t said.

  My search engine produces some interesting topics which can turn into deep rabbit holes of trivia; one such venture mentioned a popular phrase I sometimes heard from my own parents: “My country, right or wrong.” The words do seem like a boast of blind devotion which might be better left to extremists, and preferably from other places where such things are more accepted (think North Korea). My country when it is right, I can certainly go along with. My country when it is wrong is a different concept I can’t necessarily follow blindly without knowing why I should do so.

  It turns out the phrase has a story to tell, and it came from a resource which has evolved into a fact provider* in search engine home pages, and which I stumbled upon by accident. I think that in an election year it’s good to tell the story behind this saying.

  The original phrase was uttered some 200 years ago by Stephen Decatur, who was an officer in the United States Navy’s infancy, enlisting at age 19 and rising to the rank of Commodore. He offered a toast after a dinner sometime in 1816-1820, saying, “Our Country! In her intercourse with foreign nations may she always be in the right; but right or wrong, our country!”

  The translation is that we are always America, with our good and bad characteristics. When we are acting with other countries, we do so hoping we do what is right, but always keeping in mind what we represent when we do it. This doesn’t suggest that we own up to our mistakes when we do wrong, and say that we apologize as a nation for the slight. It simply says that we are what we are in totality.
  
  In 1872, the 13th Secretary of the Interior, Carl Schurz, made an amendment to the toast. “My country, right or wrong; if right, to be kept right; and if wrong, to be set right.” This from a German immigrant who served in the American Civil War (fighting at Gettysburg) and helped in the formation of the Conservative Republican Party. These were men^^ of some standing, trying to put patriotism into perspective.

  So this is a legacy we should quote in its entirety, rather than misquote. The duty of an American is to keep right what is right and to correct wrongs. To simply state a support of anything “right or wrong” is like saying doing wrong doesn’t matter. It does, indeed.

  My country; still growing after 248 years. Still trying to right wrongs, as well (we hope) this election year.

  *(Resources: Cracked.com, Wikipedia)
  ^^(Carl Schurz’ widow went on to help form what we know as kindergarten for early learning youngsters; women did contribute to our nation.)

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  Posted in Commentary | 0 Comments | Tagged carl schurz, my country right or wrong, patriotism, stephen decatur

• X Marks the Girth

  Posted at 2:55 pm by kayewer, on April 20, 2024

  Like most women of a certain age, I have a broader figure. This means that clothing becomes more of a struggle than before. The days of high school when I could get away with a size 8 trouser or a size medium off the rack are long behind me.

  Actually there is more in front of me than behind me, because I’ve got a tummy.

  Clothing sizes without numbers can be daunting. When you’re in a grey zone between an upper-sized misses and a lower-sized women, you must begin using the dressing room and your measuring tape to figure it out.

  I discovered that sizing such as XL (extra large) and XXL (extra extra large) are in a different territory compared to women’s sizing starting with 1X. An extra large fits tops with a 42- 43 1/2″ bust, while 1X will fit a 43-45″ bust. I also learned that the average woman in America wears a 34DD bra and has a bustline sized 38-39.4″ In other countries, women wear a large size A or small B bra, which is more the average.

  We’re not only big-waisted in America, but big-busted.

  If I could put my waist size onto my bust, I’d look like an adult film star sporting two basketballs in front of my lungs.

  While I was taking a day at the shore, I visited one of the few open retailers on the boardwalk (off-season hours are limited, after all), and sometimes a 1X is hard to find among clothing limited to XL. I don’t think they’re deliberately telling us “whales” to shop elsewhere, but the beach and its minimal clothing dress code is not inviting to those of us with a bit more going in the corporeal department.

  This is why the Michelin tire man doesn’t wear Speedos.

  I found some sales on XL tops, so I bought some logo apparel, fully aware that not only will they fit, but once I am no longer on medications which can make weight loss difficult, I will lose some numbers on the scale and the XL will swim on me. Just as long as they don’t swim off me in a strong current, I’m okay.

  Some retailers like Torrid, which specialize in diverse sizes from 10 up to 30 in many of their styles, go with numbers such as 00 through 3, which tend to appear on their racks frequently. One doesn’t feel so bad when they say they’re a 1 compared to a 1X.

  Men’s clothing seems to always go by tailoring measurements such as neck circumference, arm length and torso. A dedicated group of specialists adjust the fit for the customer. Women are still assumed to be experts with sewing machines, and thus can alter our own clothing. Unfortunately we’re not in 1942 anymore. We go to the seamstress now.

  As sizes change, I’ve learned to embrace whatever version of me is existing now, and not worry about outgrowing or being too much of one thing or too little of the other. As long as I can find the perfect fit, I feel good.

  Besides, nobody has ever asked me what my clothing tag says. I can always say “Made in USA.”

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• Nothing Humorous

  Posted at 2:25 pm by kayewer, on April 13, 2024

  I like to read the morning paper–yes, an actual newspaper dropped at my home by a dedicated delivery person sometime around three in the morning–before I start my job from home. I would like to say for the record that, after reading an article this week that made me facepalm, I now know of at least 1500 people on social media who have absolutely no sense of humor.

  The sunny shore community of Wildwood, New Jersey, posted on April 1 to make an announcement about their iconic tram cars, which convey visitors along the boardwalk. For ages, the transports of linked cars seating about four people to a row and eight to a section have taken folks for a half-hour ride along the two-miles of boardwalk. Their iconic loudspeaker to pedestrians warns “Watch the tram car, please!”

  The announcement included an unnamed source who reported that Wildwood wanted to be more polite with the warning, and so would be revising the ages-old phrase to say, “Excuse me, please. Tram car coming through.”

  The post resulted in a deluge of responses in the form of the Facebook characteristic angry emojis, and phone calls to the offices in Wildwood from enraged people who wanted the phrase to stay the way it has always been. The phrase was considered, to one posting individual, “Jersey polite.” Another stated that a warning need not be polite when a large vehicle is bearing down on ignorant strolling folks in flip-flops.

  The original phrase is short and sweet, and easy to take heed of along with the occasional bicycle bell ringing. The only other true way to change it would be to reword it to “Please watch the tram car.”

  So the offices in Wildwood fielded angry phone-ins which increased their Monday call volume, while social media blew up with complaints from angry readers.

  Had they taken a moment to think, they would have been laughing instead of spewing their coffee in outrage. For one thing, does anybody go to extremes to make a polite phrase more polite? Do they also go out of their way to make the warning even longer than the original version? Finally, the post was on April 1, also known to most of us as April Fool’s Day. The whole thing was supposed to be a joke.

  Which is why I noted that the nearly 1500 people who clapped back at the post decidedly have no sense of humor. I can imagine these folks keeping pitchforks and torches by their front doors, ready to march on any perceived slight in this world for lack of something better to do. What would’ve happened if Apple had posted on April Fools Day that they were going out of business?

  Naturally I have been observing, with increasing distress, the downfall of the human brain in the upcoming generations; nobody seems capable of constructing a meaningful thought, let alone writing it down using proper grammar. We should at least be able to discern humor when it’s in front of us in carefully worded posts on social media. Without the opportunity to laugh, we lose our focus when life becomes serious.

  I don’t go to Wildwood, but I remember being nudged out of the way by hearing “Watch the tram car, please” at my back when my family went a time or two in my youth. Perhaps they should use a recording of Reel 2 Reel’s “I Like to Move It” instead.

  Just kidding, folks!

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• My Eclipse

  Posted at 7:08 pm by kayewer, on April 6, 2024

  On April 8, a rare planetary alignment will result in a total eclipse of the sun which will be visible across a select area of North America in the afternoon. People have traveled to areas of the country near the path of totality and taken up hotel rooms, making the event double as a perfect vacation. People are getting married. Sun-worshipping faiths will have a wonderful time.

  Back on August 21, 2017, I was working when the last solar eclipse appeared, but I was prepared with an old-fashioned shoebox with a pinhole and viewing window cut into it especially for the occasion. When I went to the rear of our office building to see how far along the sun was to being completely hidden from view, I saw some of our complex’s landscapers nearby and offered to let them take a look using my contraption. They were equally captivated by the spectacle, and I was privileged to share with them.

  This year, I’m working as well, but from home, so I will step out my back door with my free specially designed eclipse viewing glasses (which look much like the 3D freebies we once received for movies using that technique, but don’t try switching out one for the other).

  As much as I feel privileged to see what may be the last major eclipse I will view in my lifetime, the reader in me sees a much different significance to this event, for when I hear about an eclipse, I think back to my favorite books.

  Long before there was the popularity of Twilight or Harry Potter, I was reading a series of books for mature readers stretching back to 1978 and which transported me through history, romance and horror into the 1990s and beyond. After having read Interview With the Vampire, my interest was piqued when my book club offered an “if you’ve read this, try this” story. I ordered a copy of Hotel Transylvania by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro from the club, and from the moment I read the first page, I was permanently engaged, and stayed so to this day.

  Yarbro’s ability to write historical fiction not only enthralled me with the adventure, but I was unknowingly receiving an observational look at world events and how women fit into (or were excluded from) them. Sometimes the characters had rank and power, while others were ostracized and treated with cruelty. Living among them was Saint-Germain, a mysterious man who chose to wear almost exclusively black, carried himself elegantly and adapted readily to whatever culture his travels thrust him into. At his side would be close companions often relegated to servants in the eyes of outsiders, but his longest-serving partner, Roger, was always ready to perform whatever task was needed to keep their foreign status from being taken in a negative way, as outsiders in many periods of history often were.

  The secret: Saint-Germain is a vampire, and Roger is a flesh-eating ghoul. Their travels bring them face to face with Mongols, Charlemagne, Ivan the Terrible, a coven of Satanists in France, Kali worshippers, Nazis, and a variety of evils throughout the world.

  The novels (I have 26 in my collection, along with short stories and related works) are both narrative and epistolary in nature, and contain a wonderful mixture of eroticism, action and violence.

  The connection to this upcoming event: Saint-Germain’s sigil is the eclipse.

  The publishing world being as it is, there are more novels awaiting book form, and I look forward to the announcement that the saga will continue. As I look at this rare period of semi-darkness on Monday, my mind may well wander back to other places and times of eclipses and earthquakes, battles won and lost, practices embraced and forgotten, and the books that took me there.

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