The year was 1993 and the Women's group at the church wanted to have a fund raiser. The theme was the 1960s and they needed an Elvis... Need I say anymore?
"Traditional marketing focuses on what brands attempt to portray to consumers. Social media allows consumers to tell brands about themselves, while simultaneously increasing brand awareness by promoting interaction and a sense of community."
-Mary Rodgers, director of marketing communications, Cuisinart and Waring, at the 2010 Shopper Insights in Action Conference
Note: Thanks to Connie Chesner for sharing this with me. Visit her here.
-Mary Rodgers, director of marketing communications, Cuisinart and Waring, at the 2010 Shopper Insights in Action Conference
Note: Thanks to Connie Chesner for sharing this with me. Visit her here.
In Between
dusk and flickering candles.
sensations of
in between
gentle caresses of the last scent of yesterday's cookies, baked and eaten.
in between
a leaf falling upward, riding on the breeze of summer's heat
in between
silent breath
your voice pausing between words
measured with care
in between
the end and the beginning
the alpha and the omega
the dream and the reality
we live here for no more than a moment
in between
I'm literally going to be "On Ice" tonight. Because my employer is the digital media partner for the US Figure Skating Championships, I've been asked to present the award for the Novice Ladies.
Pray I don't slip...
UPDATE: Photographic evidence I was there! What fun. Those are some amazing young ladies. Fill with zest and devotion to their sport. I'm proud to be a part of this.
Pray I don't slip...
UPDATE: Photographic evidence I was there! What fun. Those are some amazing young ladies. Fill with zest and devotion to their sport. I'm proud to be a part of this.
The Pelican
A wonderful bird is the pelican,
His mouth can hold more than his belly can,
He can hold in his beak,
Enough food for a week!
I'm damned if I know how the hell he can!
-Dixon Lanier Merritt, a Southern newspaper editor and President of the American Press Humorists Association, penned this famous limerick in 1910. It is carved in stone and displayed prominently at Brook Green gardens in SC.
Watching several Pelicans feed in the tributaries of Murrells Inlet, SC, I was taken by how often they fail to catch fish. It is fairly easy to mark a successful dive, as the stately bird will raise its beak skyward to send the fish wiggling down its gullet. I began keeping score. I counted a total of twenty five dives between four birds and could only verify a catch seven times. With a slightly better than 25% success rate, these gobbling fowl still are known as great fishers.
I guess nature confirms the old saying, “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.”
1. Hunger for something will keep you trying.
2. The pain of failure is quickly forgotten once the benefits of success arrive.
3. Never give up.
A wonderful bird is the pelican,
His mouth can hold more than his belly can,
He can hold in his beak,
Enough food for a week!
I'm damned if I know how the hell he can!
-Dixon Lanier Merritt, a Southern newspaper editor and President of the American Press Humorists Association, penned this famous limerick in 1910. It is carved in stone and displayed prominently at Brook Green gardens in SC.
Watching several Pelicans feed in the tributaries of Murrells Inlet, SC, I was taken by how often they fail to catch fish. It is fairly easy to mark a successful dive, as the stately bird will raise its beak skyward to send the fish wiggling down its gullet. I began keeping score. I counted a total of twenty five dives between four birds and could only verify a catch seven times. With a slightly better than 25% success rate, these gobbling fowl still are known as great fishers.
I guess nature confirms the old saying, “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.”
1. Hunger for something will keep you trying.
2. The pain of failure is quickly forgotten once the benefits of success arrive.
3. Never give up.
Take 8 minutes and watch this video from TED talk. Amber Case is a "cyborg anthropologist.'
Chapter 15ish
By the time I awoke, the sun had warmed the bedroom and day was well underway. I was alone in the bed so Kelly was already up, and I stretched fully using the entire bed to flex my legs and extend my arms. I herd a rustle overhead.
"That must be Russell" I thought.
Russell was the squirrel that I had tried repeatedly to run from my attic. His name was an indicator of his modus operandi. For weeks now he had shown up, sometimes in the morning, sometimes later or throughout the day, scurried onto the roof and either worked on chewing his way through a new portion of the house, or entered the attic to romp and 'rustle' about. Kelly had named him Russell. I wasn't so forgiving and would prefer to call him a few other select names.
"Your buddy is back in the attic!," I shouted to Kelly.
Climbing out of bed, I grab my jeans and a tee shirt. I walked barefooted into the living room. Rubbing my eyes, and scratching my head, I looked for my shoes. I wasn't climbing those pull-down ladder steps and crawling in the attic with bare feet.
"Where are my boots," I asked, partly to myself and half heartedly to Kelly.
The silence finished the job of waking me. Kelly wasn't there. No coffee. No shower running. I walked back to the bedroom, scanning for any of her things. Nothing. She was gone. Walking back into the kitchen, I saw a note on the table. Picking it up, I knew. It could have begun with "Dear John."
Evan,
You were sleeping so beautifully when I left that I didn't want to wake you. Honestly, I didn't want to face you. I'm sorry for being chicken, but try as I might I've not been able to tell you to your face.
We've tried this for a while, and much of what we have is amazingly wonderful. You are a caring and considerate man. You are funny, smart and a fantastic lover. You know me, my body, my needs. God, it is all I can do not to run in there and make love to you, again, but I know that I'd not be able to do this, and it isn't fair to you anymore.
Despite your wonderful heart, you can't give me the one thing I need; your total and unwavering love. I've been waiting for you to let go of the past, your parents' death, the pain of being alone, and your lapse in success as a writer none of that matters to me. I've told you. I've been patient. I've tried. I know that we will never have what we each need, as long as we are together. The distraction is too powerful. Our passion is too pleasant, too comforting. I feel that even in that passion we have grown more and more apart. You need your space, your solitude. I know you abhor being alone, but that is your journey. I can't help loving the city, and all that it is. I need to settle in to my life there and hopefully find someone who is ready to fully give...
Shit. Forget it, I'm rambling on. You already know what this is. I just don't want to crowd you with my things.
Goodbye, Evan. I love you.
Kelly
Just like that, she was gone. I looked at the paper in my hand. I was trembling. My head began to spin, my gut twisted into a knot. Somehow, I carefully folded the note and slipped it into my back pocket.
By the time I awoke, the sun had warmed the bedroom and day was well underway. I was alone in the bed so Kelly was already up, and I stretched fully using the entire bed to flex my legs and extend my arms. I herd a rustle overhead.
"That must be Russell" I thought.
Russell was the squirrel that I had tried repeatedly to run from my attic. His name was an indicator of his modus operandi. For weeks now he had shown up, sometimes in the morning, sometimes later or throughout the day, scurried onto the roof and either worked on chewing his way through a new portion of the house, or entered the attic to romp and 'rustle' about. Kelly had named him Russell. I wasn't so forgiving and would prefer to call him a few other select names.
"Your buddy is back in the attic!," I shouted to Kelly.
Climbing out of bed, I grab my jeans and a tee shirt. I walked barefooted into the living room. Rubbing my eyes, and scratching my head, I looked for my shoes. I wasn't climbing those pull-down ladder steps and crawling in the attic with bare feet.
"Where are my boots," I asked, partly to myself and half heartedly to Kelly.
The silence finished the job of waking me. Kelly wasn't there. No coffee. No shower running. I walked back to the bedroom, scanning for any of her things. Nothing. She was gone. Walking back into the kitchen, I saw a note on the table. Picking it up, I knew. It could have begun with "Dear John."
Evan,
You were sleeping so beautifully when I left that I didn't want to wake you. Honestly, I didn't want to face you. I'm sorry for being chicken, but try as I might I've not been able to tell you to your face.
We've tried this for a while, and much of what we have is amazingly wonderful. You are a caring and considerate man. You are funny, smart and a fantastic lover. You know me, my body, my needs. God, it is all I can do not to run in there and make love to you, again, but I know that I'd not be able to do this, and it isn't fair to you anymore.
Despite your wonderful heart, you can't give me the one thing I need; your total and unwavering love. I've been waiting for you to let go of the past, your parents' death, the pain of being alone, and your lapse in success as a writer none of that matters to me. I've told you. I've been patient. I've tried. I know that we will never have what we each need, as long as we are together. The distraction is too powerful. Our passion is too pleasant, too comforting. I feel that even in that passion we have grown more and more apart. You need your space, your solitude. I know you abhor being alone, but that is your journey. I can't help loving the city, and all that it is. I need to settle in to my life there and hopefully find someone who is ready to fully give...
Shit. Forget it, I'm rambling on. You already know what this is. I just don't want to crowd you with my things.
Goodbye, Evan. I love you.
Kelly
Just like that, she was gone. I looked at the paper in my hand. I was trembling. My head began to spin, my gut twisted into a knot. Somehow, I carefully folded the note and slipped it into my back pocket.
Since we are having some inclement weather, my brain was triggered to recall that there seemed to be (in the ancient recesses of my mind) a time when the Postal Service was a beacon of determination and perseverance. The mail WOULD be delivered. Wasn't there a motto to that effect???
The Answer:
Contrary to popular belief, the U.S. Postal Service has no "official motto."
The familiar sentence you are thinking of is this: “Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.”
This is commonly misidentified as the creed of our mail carriers, but actually it is just the inscription found on the General Post Office in New York City at 8th Avenue and 33rd Street.
Here's how the official Web site of the U.S. Postal Service describes the origin of the inscription.
This inscription was supplied by William Mitchell Kendall of the firm of McKim, Mead & White, the architects who designed the New York General Post Office. Kendall said the sentence appears in the works of Herodotus and describes the expedition of the Greeks against the Persians under Cyrus, about 500 B.C. The Persians operated a system of mounted postal couriers, and the sentence describes the fidelity with which their work was done. Professor George H. Palmer of Harvard University supplied the translation, which he considered the most poetical of about seven translations from the Greek.
Thank you InfoPlease for this wonderful information.
Why do you remain
There
A brush by my world
Radiating
Passion against my senses
Leaving
Me longing for more
Your voice sang today
Mournful
Lyrics of loss and hope
Ascending
Tones of fluttering union
Scattered
Eternally within my mind
Uncomfortable hauntings...
Skinned
The layers peel
With a severe ease
Sub-dermal lament resides
Desire
Peeling
Cracking drafts of promises
Too familiar, too simple
Latent memory unveiled
Need
Peeling, peeling
Like dead skin from a sunburned thigh.