Odds & Ends
February 25th, 2005 at 10:32 am by Dee O'Neil Andrews
Just down the road, between here and downtown Slidell there’s a nice city sports park that has long had nicely trimmed shrubs on a small rise of ground out in front spelling out the name "John Slidell" in greenery. I know it’s been there since I lived in Picayune, Mississippi, and I left there in 1987, so it way pre-dates my Captain John W. Gulf calamity. But, you can be sure that the next time I stop by there I will be sure to ask the park caretaker if John Slidell and Captain John W. Gulf are related to each other. Maybe cousins or something. Any more, I don’t want to take any chances. You know?!
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Speaking of taking chances, my 83 year old mom, who I was quoting here one day last week in an earlier blog entry, finally got the opportunity to look at my blog site yesterday and immediately called me, very alarmed. She was concerned that I was taking chances by "putting myself out there," basically, where anyone in the world, theoretically, could "wander" in to see what is going on here.
Well - yeah, Mom - I suppose I am. But, I’m trying to be careful here in all that I do. I told her that, yes, theoretically anyone in the world anywhere could check in here, even "crackpots," but that I wasn’t worried about it and wasn’t going to. I told her that I thought it would most likely only be crackpots I already know! (NO - calm down. I didn’t tell her that.) I told her that I wasn’t any more concerned about it than when I was Community Editor and a journalist and had my name (and picture) in the Picayune, Mississippi newspaper all the time.
At times, when I wrote serious articles and series such as the one on abused women (wives) in Pearl River County, I got a crank call or two at home late at night. But, that was a rare occurrence and the majority of the feedback was very positive. Unlike being a city beat reporter or police beat reporter or something, being Community Editor mostly involved writing about good things going on in the community. Complaints were few and far between, so that was good.
My mom and I ended up having a long talk and I was able to reassure her in the end. We had a long discussion with how the world has changed from when she was growing up, etc. She was saying that from the time her grandmother was born through the time my mom was growing up in the 30s and early 40s in this country, the world didn’t change much at all in most ways people live. She was attributing the vast changes as beginning during and because of World War II. And, I think she’s right about that.
One of her concerns was identity theft, but as I told her I’ve tried looking up my own name on the internet before at various times and was able to find "myself" in less than 30 seconds! Wow! Is that scary, or what?! I even found my name under our home phone number, even though I’m not listed in the directory at all. So, what is a person to do?
The other day I ran my name as it is on this blog site on an internet search and found myself working back at my old law firm in Metairie, where I haven’t worked since 1998! I was telling Mom that yesterday, and she said, "Well, then, why don’t you call them and ask them where your paychecks are all the time!" Really!
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My "Shall We Dance" entry has brought a lot of emails, although apparently none of you are bloggers. At least, yet. One dear long time male friend emailed the following:
I have been reading your blog . . .. The dialogue from "Shall We Dance" about marriage is inspiring and quite profound. And when you think about it, that really is sort of what we promise when we get married, that we’ll always be there to witness the other’s life as it unfolds. Of course, when we sign on to that commitment, it is with the expectation (and assurance) that our mate is making the same pledge to us. It simply doesn’t work unless both parties care more for the other than for themselves. You and I are both lucky in that regard.
Yes, we are. And on that note, I’ll stop for today. But, be checking here next week because I’ve got some things ruminating in my head that I want to write about. Lord willing and the creek don’t rise, as we used to say growing up on the farm.