Escargot poste Doesn't sound as clever as snail mail but it's the same thing.

 

1938, Aunt Edie reading a book. I found this and other great photos my mom left.

        When I was a little girl, our mailman's name was Sam. Damn.  Now I am having to think about where our mail went.  I know we didn't have a mailbox. We were city dwellers.  We must have had a slit on the door where the mail was pushed through. There were a pair our outside doors that led into the vestibule, which was really a tiny space.  The downstairs door was on the right, the apartment for upstairs was on the left. I know, this is yet  *Another Digression, but it's been so very long and I would hate to not remember.

   Grandma often sat on the front porch and Sam would walk up the steps and give us our mail.  My older sister had a pen pal in England and when I was old enough,  I must have written letters too and received replies, because I was always so excited to get the mail.

   As I mentioned, in a previous blog, I moved out at age 23, so the mail then,  was of course, mostly bills. Still, I was always excited to get mail because there was always the element of surprise.

   I was, and I doubt this will surprise you, a letter writer. And so, there was always the hope that mixed in with the bills, would be a friend's response,  or maybe an invitation to a party or a package from a company I had complained to. this leads to Another Digression which I think is usually a good thing. Stories are what this blog is really about, and I have plenty to tell. And so.........

   I  wrote a letter to the tootsie roll pop company complaining that the chocolate tootsie inside had shrunk over the years and it was distressing to me. I am an admitted chocoholic, and I don't believe there is a 12 step program for it. And that is a good thing because I wouldn't go because I don't want to quit.  No willingness there for me.

  I received a response and a package of tootsie pops. I just looked them up and there is  a Tootsie Industries. I thought they were a subsidiary of a larger candy maker. Wow. They survived.  They were very proud to be the oldest candy maker online. Huh? Online? 

      Anyway.  Their response was really funny . They pointed out that when I was a child I was little and that maybe the center hadn't gotten smaller; I had gotten bigger and it was my growth that changed my recollection.  Still, they replied and sent me actual product. A half dozen Tootsie Pops. I still believe the centers shrank.

  This may seem like a digression, but it isn't. It's a verbal  picture of the subtle changes that brought us to the present day. 

    I'm not sure where I got the penchant for complaining to corporations, possibly my Aunt Mildred. Since it's her advice I remember and still use. Always complain to the CEO. Start with the top and you'll get results. And she was right until the past 6 or 7 years. And oh, the other complaining, also known as kvetching is cultural.

   Some years later I complained to another manufacturer about their product. Whatever it was doesn't matter because what I got was coupons. That really ticked me off because I didn't want to use their product any more and they sent me freaking coupons.

    Thanks. I needed the ice in the snow storm.

     There were of course different types of complaints and different circumstances for writing them.  For this discourse, it doesn't matter. Since this is one ginormous digression.

   Sometimes I just wanted an acknowledgement for what I was complaining about. Sometimes an apology. Over the years, I wrote less because I was busy with life and mellowed so, something had to really piss me off to get me to write.  Which brings me to the new way of corresponding. It could be snail mail or email.

   The next level I call being ignored.  The companies must have drafted a new policy to not reply and hope the person would go away. I'm sure that worked often. It takes a lot of energy to follow through on something. Perhaps for some, just getting it out was enough.

    For me, it fueled my righteous indignation and the second letter was possibly a bit hostile. Now, I was not only angry about whatever your company was up to, but to not be acknowledged? That  generally got a response and usually some concession about my complaint. No one likes to be called out for being impolite.

     I'd gone from Tootsie Rolls to being disgruntled about having to pay almost a thousand dollars for anesthesia, because they didn't accept my insurance. Or any insurance as it seems to be these days. Don't get me started about the practice of anesthesiologists. Yes, they may be the most important person in the operating room, but that shouldn't give them license to all become independent contractors and not work for hospitals where they have to work.  Enough. I'm talking a deep breath.

     As usual,  that's not  even the topic that I'm writing about. I'm writing about a cultural loss. This is the Christmas season, and so far I have gotten two Christmas cards from friends,  and five from charities I have donated to. Along with requests for more money. 

     Real  Snail mail has become nearly extinct and it saddens me. 

     I have always been the person who sends you a birthday card, a thank you card, a Christmas card and God forbid, a sympathy card. Sometimes a Get Well or Just thinking of you. I'm not a phone person so it helps me stay in touch. Or it used to.

     This month, I missed three events and I'm not sure what's going on with me. Well, really it's not me.   (denial and rationalization)

     I live in a house that has a curbside mailbox. It's really cool and unlike Great Neck, where I lived right before moving here. I don't have to search for a post  office box to send my mail. I just put it in my mail box and put up a flag. It's so easy. I've gotten spoiled although it's almost unnecessary. How many things do we really send these days? Not many.  But ..............

    Our mailbox is usually full. Sometimes  after bringing the load in, I let it sit on the kitchen counter for two days or OMG, more, before going through it. What's the point? I do still get a couple of paper bills, however I don't change over the paperless out of spite because I want them to spend unnecessary money mailing them to me. I pay them on line and don't need them since I keep track of what I owe.

    Sometimes I need to read the new tax notice or your rates are changing notifications, but generally, I get political mail, charities asking for donations, post cards from realtors, local news papers that are really advertisements for local businesses, chances to win lotteries, invitations to retirement planning dinners and Medicare plan advice. I may have left something out. Oh my God. How could I forget my shopping catalogs? 

    Generally when I read the mail, I do it standing next to the paper recycling box we have in the kitchen and only open a charity letter if I think it is a confirmation of a donation I will need for my taxes. Usually it's not. And so, nine tenths of what we received is immediately put in the trash. This is why we need to recycle?

     When I lived in Great Neck, I usually got home from work,  around the time Billy our mail man was filling the locked letter boxes. It was great. We would talk about what was going on in the building and shoot the breeze. He was a really nice guy. Once, I asked him which season was the worst, assuming it would be Christmas. I was wrong. It was the  November elections. What does that tell us about how our money is being spent? I will not Digress.

      So, My question is; is it time to give up the ghost of Christmas past? Why do I pay for an account with an online greeting card company so I can send  cool animated cards to those whose email addresses I have? I can send very nice cards. For gifts, I can send them a credit card from a store they like, although I did find out that Louis Vuitton will not do that online. You must come into the store.  Walmart's on the other hand probably doesn't care if you use a stolen credit card. I just slapped myself in the face for being bad.

     So, why do we still even have a post office? My stomach cringed when I wrote that. The last thing I want to do is put people out of work. I really like our mailwoman and I know the people at our local post office too. Of course, they still deliver packages from Amazon and the other online stores I buy from. That's not the issue.

     I am aging and  watching the world change in ways I thought impossible twenty or thirty years ago. I have to change along with it or I won't survive.  That doesn't mean I like all of the new ways. It seems that whatever your age, you are nostalgic for the years that have gone by. Every generation will be nostalgic about something. This is one of mine.

    My email box is as bad as my regular mail box. At least there I can click on spam if I don't want to receive the advertisements, or unsubscribe to what I don't want to get. And it doesn't waste paper or kill trees. It probably uses energy that somehow goes back to oil which in my mind is worse.

   I do like to get notices of sales from some stores, so I don't want to spam them so some days I have 40 messages.  At least when I throw them in the trash, I don't have to pick up a carton and move it to the garage.

   Still. The excitement is gone. Both from snail and email. When I first met my husband, 17 years ago, the movie you've got mail was playing. He took me to see It and it was charming. You only got mail that you expected. There wasn't quite so much junk back then. Now, my single friends get pictures of a guys junk as a way of introduction. No thank you.

    Now, it's Christmas/Chanukah/Kwanza  season and I miss getting  the cards. I miss reading the newsletter inserted in some, even if I thought it was kind of weird to put in a card. I don't exactly miss writing and mailing them, which I did. And I almost always wrote something personal in the card because if you're my friend, I don't want you to just be a person on a list that I don't distinguish  as I put your name in the card. If memory serves me, I used to send out over 60 cards.

  I suppose it may be being thought of, which I miss. The email and texts have such and impersonal feel. No matter how many emoticons you use. 

   My brand of person is becoming extinct. There is not DNA for letter writing. It's only a tradition from long ago. It is a choice that I shall have to make.

   The e -world may be faster and easier and I know there's no going back.  But I feel sorry for the generation who won't find an old photograph of someone they haven't seen, or a hidden box of love letters tied in a ribbon or a note from a long deceased, beloved grandma.

   Theory. With progress comes loss.

 

My grandma's signing my 8th grade graduation book.

Ancesters What we hope to learn about ourselves from learning about them.

  


What do I hope to learn?

      My first immediate response, is nothing.  That may well be my theory after I write this, but who knows? I don't usually bother to think before I write, so your guess may even be better than mine.

      I have joined, and unjoined and rejoined the ancestors site now, for the third time. They keep enticing me with emails.  "you have 33 possible clues to your family tree". They let you see them, but not to actually view the content. Tease you so they can get you to grease their palms. Well, if the internet had palms. I like figures of speech. I hate mathematical figures. Go figure.
 
     Previously, I only spent money on the US searches. That didn't get me very far. If you remember (LOL) my post about the roadshow, I mentioned that my families came from Russia and Poland and so the hopes of finding that much in the US were limited.

     This time, the special for 6 months of world wide information was, too much to pass by. I haven't started to look yet. I'm still finished with setting up Christmas. Also, the post before last will explain about the nice (or not so nice) Jewish woman doing Christmas.

      I am also a little worried about looking around the world. Hard as it may seem to you, I don't know Russian or Polish. I can't speak them and I surely can't read them. In my secret thought, that I just realized I have at this very moment, is that I am hoping they have some sort of translation program or I am screwed.

     I can read Hebrew, but not Yiddish. For those of you who don't know the difference I'll see if I do.

    I believe the alphabet is the same. I surely hope so. Even though I can "read" I'm not sure my skills are better than a third grader. The problem is that they are two different languages. Yiddish is actually more a combination of German and some Hebrew and who knows what else thrown into the mix. Ironic if you think about it. Heil, you know who.

   I can liken it to reading English and Spanish. Yes, I can read the words. And in Spanish I may even understand some of them.  However, I do not know the meaning of all the words. And in Yiddish, they don't have vowels so even if I try, I probably won't even be able to sound them out.

   The real question though, is why are we so curious about where we came from.  I've watched some of the episodes on TV where famous people are flown around the world, given translations and get to find out amazing stories. ( *AD) Yeah, like being famous isn't enough of a perk. You don't have to track it down yourself, pay for a translator and find out you come from a family of Russian peasants who, if you are lucky, were a healthy lot. Translate that into fat with curly, frizzy hair.

    Do most of us secretly believe we came from better than we are now which make us better now?  I know I don't. (*AD)  It does remind me of the search for past lives. I guess I haven't mentioned it yet.  My specialty before I stopped working, was doing past life regression therapy. It's really only psychotic people who believe they were (or still are) Cleopatra or Napoleon).

    During the regressions, most people were regular people like they are now. They usually want to understand why a relationship is so fraught with conflict or why they can't find their soul mate.
      In any case, I never met anyone who was famous in a previous life. Or this one for that matter.  (end of this digression about regression)

      Curiosity. Pocket Oxford Dictionary, 1927 edition defines curious as: Eager to learn, inquisitive, prying, puzzling, inviting, and the desire to know the details of something.  I definitely like details. Unfortunately I now have trouble remembering them.

      A curious child is every teachers dream. Generally, we are only curious about some things. Usually not geography, history, foreign languages or math. Unless of course it pertains to our favorite subject. Ourselves.  (or sex which you hope will pertain to yourself).

      The topic most people are most interested is, as was just stated,  you got it, ourselves.  I'll admit that caring about oneself is essential to survival. I do believe that our culture has taken it to an art form and not all art forms are pretty.

      I too, am a product of the culture I grew up in. I am interested in me. Fortunately I am also interested in other people and  society and even things that go bump in the night. Get your minds out of the gutter.

      It's as if, if I know my roots I'll find something to explain who I am. Why I am. I don't know why just being isn't enough. It never has been for me. Granted, I am curious about many things, which you will note as you read on, because my topics are, at least seem to me, to be smatterings of many topics. I try to tie them together with a theory, and unfortunately for you, my favorite theory that works for everything is in our DNA.

      I will do my  ancester searching and if I'm lucky I'll find out something I don't already know. Something that might help me on my road to self discovery although many people would ask me why I am bothering at this stage of my life.

      Kick back and relax. Chill.  Do the things you couldn't when you were working. Those appear to be difficult to my nature. Not that I don't kick back. The relaxing part is where I seem to go wrong. I'm always in a hurry. I ask myself, why the rush?  I always feel like there is something I have to finish. Or start. I tell myself that all I'm doing is rushing to my own funeral. It should slow me down  but  I can't keep it in mind long enough.

      I was just out, running errands and having lunch with a friend. I left so I could come home and do the things I left undone.

           I had to stop for gas and was lost in thought. I pulled in at a pump and realized it was the wrong side of the car.  For the last 9 years  the driver side was the side I needed. For the last 8 months it changed. I thought I was okay remembering where to go and haven't made that mistake in ages.  So, I swung the car around so I'd be on the side where the gas cap is, and hit the front end of my bumper on the rubber guard around the pump.
   I gassed up and figured I should look and see if I did any damage. It didn't sound so bad.


     WRONG!  It's a bloody mess. Okay. I can make myself feel better. My father was my first and only ancestor to drive a car. And I'm betting that no one in the family, on either side had enough money for a mule or horse or anything else that was driven.  So, considering that I come from a long line of non-drivers, I'm doing really ,really well.

      Did I already write a piece about denial? Or rationalization?   Those are good topics too.

I have an old photo of my mother's mother's family. It's on Pinterest and I can't find it on the computer. I'm sure I did it before my hard drive crashed and I can't figure out how to convert it.

The cherry on the top of my cake for today.  Oh well. I like cake. Or Brioche as the French say.
  

Mom's Dad

Dad, pantless and his parents

My mom and dad and my Grandma.

    

MEA CULPA

 


     Okay. Since no one read me my Miranda rights, I think I'm safe in saying I'm guilty.
The question, is, of what?

   Today's I'll choose from one of the many things I am guilty of. This crime is passing on misinformation on Facebook and in emails. I'm really glad it's not a capital crime. Our court system is already backlogged as it is. Now I'm wondering if there is some kind of law about this. This is my brain, not on drugs.

    I do not recall what email I forwarded the first time I was admonished for not checking my facts. I was mortified. I was sent to Snopes for that one, and yes, I was wrong.
    Upstanding citizen that I am, I sent a second email correcting the first one. *AD  If you still pass those emails claiming that you will get money for passing emails, you need more help than I do.

    Since that time, I try to do my due diligence when reading a post or getting an email. As is often the case, the facts are spurious or sometimes, partially correct.

    I was reminded of this recently with regards to the Goodwill Industries post on FB. I don't know why, but I chose to believe it. I was horrified. Because.........

    We donate there a lot , mostly because it's so close to our house that it makes it soooooo easy. And like everyone else, we're too lazy to go out of our way. (I'm hanging my head in shame but you can't see it)
      The place I started to donate recently,  even before hearing this is Safespace, for abused women. Still, it's a schlep to  get there, so unless I'm headed that way I'm now have a dilemma. 

     ACTION      This morning I looked Goodwill up on Wiki. Wiki's site is also controversial since some of the people's contributions are made by me (well twice) and other individuals who may not know the facts.

     However, the majority of their information is fact checked by authorities so I still like to see what they have to say. The beginning of the selection seemed to contradict the post. The structure of the org. was described, as was the number of people employed, money generated etc. They appear to do a lot of good but are both a profit and nonprofit organization. A hybrid. Hmmm.  I wonder how that works.

    As I read on, I saw in the index, (remember my short term memory issues) a section I'll call, complaints or controversies.

    There were the accusations that appeared on FB.  For instance, one of the CEO's was making let's say, $794,000 a year. After this came out, that person agreed to take a 25% pay cut which brings them down to $774,150. I don't know who that person will survive.  I know. I did the math twice. It certainly sounds like a lot, but if you think about it, if you have a dollar and you spend a quarter, you still have 75 cents. (AD Do they have a cents symbol on the computer?  I can't seem to find it.)

    Paying the disabled less than minimum wage is legal and their argument for doing it is that if the law didn't exist, many disabled people would not be able to get jobs. Sure, but is it illegal to pay them minimum wage ? Because don't you think that's  the right thing to do?  Especially when the company heads are raking in really big bucks.

   One point is, that after the person posted it, she  then commented  that the information was incorrect. I was rather confused. Which you may notice is not so difficult to do if you have the knack. However, the post remained, until just before when I tried to find it and it was gone.  Of course, now I have to look the information up, and, well, it's not so completely wrong. They are doing  all the things that the post said they were. Only now I can't fact check the post because it's missing.

    Here again is my upside down world. Just because it's legal to pay certain people a lower wage, doesn't' mean you have to. Does it?  And just because you work really, really hard to help people doesn't mean you are entitled to a huge salary. Does it? Also, if you work hard or not, or you help people or you don't, you're not entitled to a huge salary when your employees can't pay the mortgage.  Just saying. Okay, I'm not sure the word entitled is the one I should use since it seems everyone in this country seems to feel entitled to something.   Thusly?

     I'm sure Goodwill provides a lot of work for people without skills. That helps some of the population. Although here in Florida, minimum wage usually means you  are entitled to work two jobs if you hope to make ends meet.  The profit part of the organization must be doing well, since they can afford to pay themselves huge salaries.

     I want to clarify that I too, may have some of my facts wrong.  I forgot to take notes  while reading the article, so the salaries and who made the compromise may be mixed up.  I now seem to recall that the head CEO had a salary that made him a 0ne Percenter. I'm reasonably certain that would be more than $794,000.  Maybe he took the 25% solution. 

     Anyhow. I'm supposed to be theorizing. Not just standing on my soap box so I'll look taller. (I'm 5'3" and feel short) *AD (digression).  Apparently greed is a strong part of human nature. Hoarding probably helped us survive when we were cave men. All it does now is make us want more, even when we don't need it.

    Now, if everyone had enough, it wouldn't be a big deal. It certainly wouldn't bother me. Maybe. Probably.   But I doubt that that has ever been the case on this planet earth.  

    There will always be people getting the short straws. Sometimes they are responsible for it. There are people who want to be taken care of and do not want to work or help themselves. My heart does not go out to you if you purposely fuck up your life.   
      
        Unfortunately I'm going out on a limb and guess that it is a hell of a lot more than just 1 % of the population.  It's a sorry state of affairs for which I have no answer.   Notwithstanding that, there are many, many people who have bad things happen to them and given the chance, would be able to dig themselves out of the hole they were pushed in. That's where organizations like Goodwill should come in.

     Right now you may think I'm sounding a little bit too much like a communist or socialist. God forbid. I'm neither. No. I'm just saying that the trickle down  money isn't trickling. I think someone should call in a plumber because it seems that maybe the hole where it trickles from, got stopped up and since the back flow is so slow, the people who should allow the trickle haven't noticed they have more than they are supposed to.

      So, what am I guilty of?  Believing that if it's written, it's true. I'm guilty of trusting others when I should know better. I'm guilty of donating to many charities that I haven't looked up.

     I don't do New Years Resolutions. I do, however,make plans to do things differently, like: organize things better and improve myself, even though I am perfect as I am. LMAO
     After I finish doing all the things on my list, i.e. : decorating for Christmas, cleaning up the detritus from redoing my room and Christmas, organizing my new file cabinet and other stuff I don't remember, I'll be sure to look up my charities. That will be easy since I write the check at my desk with the computer is right in front of me. No excuses. Easy Peasy.

    That's it for this topic. At least for today. Have a Happy.

keep scrolling down. For some reason, the comments are not close to the end of the writing of the blog. And I know you want to write comments and can't. You who have access to me, have told me.  I sent a comment to the survey people about answering my question,( which it didn't,) so I still don't know what's wrong.  And I'm reasonably certain they won't answer me either.

But keep scrolling. You never know what you may find.





I wanted to put a picture of the FB post, so I looked for it. It's not there anymore. I have a need to put a picture up, because, like a three year old, I like to have pictures in my magazine. Or blog.   So here is a totally unrelated photo..

Last year our friends and My husband and I went to Miami to the outdoor antique fair. As you can see, it rained. So I bought a French bowler hat from an English woman. This has nothing to do with today's theory. I  just like  visuals.
keep scrolling.