Author: Dot

From the Writer’s Notebook

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A few tidbits from the notebook where I jot down things I want to remember:

Never have more children than you have car windows.
— Erma Bombeck

Everyone wants to be Cary Grant. Even I want to be Cary Grant.
— Cary Grant

I’d as soon murdered him as left out his middle name.
— Robert Frost in The Code.

Pigs don’t fly but swine flu.
— Unknown

How you are dressed says how you want to be received.
— Layne Longfellow (at Arkansas Writers Conference on “Reading Your Prose.”)

Relaxation music makes me nervous.
— DH

The media skewered my remarks.
— Carl Paladino, 2010

Outside of a dog, a book is a man’s best friend. Inside of a dog, it’s too dark to read.
— Groucho Marx

Some people say that I must be a horrible person, but that’s not true. I have the heart of a small boy — in a jar on my desk.
— Stephen King

It seems, living in a small town, we’re either under a burn ban or a boil order.
— DH

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Good Morning, Miss Dove

Good Morning, Miss Dove

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On Labor Day Weekend, probably in recognition of the beginning of a new school year, Fox Movie Channel showed one of my favorite movies, Good Morning, Miss Dove, starring Jennifer Jones. This is the story of a prim and proper geography teacher in a small town, who is suddenly hospitalized with a serious condition. While awaiting surgery, she thinks back over her life and how she came to be a teacher. (The only thing she was qualified for when her father’s death left her in debt and without an income.) The positive influence she had on not just her students but on the entire community is shown in flashbacks of this poignant story about a dedicated teacher. Her former students are played by Robert Stack, Chuck Conners, Jerry Paris and others.

The book, written by Frances Gray Patton, was published in 1954.  I read it about that time in an issue of Readers Digest Condensed Books. Ms. Patton was a short story writer whose work appeared in New Yorker, Colliers, Harpers, McCalls –– all the popular magazines that regularly included short stories in their issues.  Good Morning, Miss Dove was an extension of a short story that first appeared in The Ladies Home Journal. Though Ms. Patton was a successful short story writer, Miss Dove was her only successful book.  She died in 2000 at the age of 94.

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Paraprosdokians

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I never (or seldom) blog about something I received by email.  The exception being: 1) It’s interesting, and 2) I haven’t seen it before.  Thanks to my daughter Linda for this one.  The author of this collection may be Jon Hammond – his name appeared at the bottom of the message.  I have edited his list of 29 paraprosdokians to 10.

“I had to look up ‘paraprodokian’. Here is the definition: ‘Figure of speech in which the latter part of a sentence or phrase is surprising or unexpected; frequently used in a humorous situation.’   ‘Where there’s a will, I want to be in it,’ is a type of paraprodokian.

1. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. But it’s still on my list.

2. We never really grow up, we only learn how to act in public.

3. Knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit. Wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad.

4.  You do not need a parachute to skydive. You only need a parachute to skydive twice.

5. There’s a fine line between cuddling and holding someone down so they can’t get away.

6. I used to be indecisive. Now I’m not sure.

7.  Nostalgia isn’t what it used to be.

8.  Going to church doesn’t make you a Christian any more than standing in a garage makes you a car.

9.  Hospitality is making your guests feel at home even when you wish they were.

10. When tempted to fight fire with fire, remember that the Fire Department usually uses water.

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Just an Ordinary Sunday

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Yesterday in church, as the pastor came to the conclusion of a very good sermon, he said, “God will speak to you.”

Bing bong. The sound of someone’s phone ringing.

“God calls you.”

Bing bong

“Make sure you answer. ”

Bing …

“Don’t make Him go to voice mail.”

Of course by then the congregation was laughing — and feeling a lot of empathy for both Brother Russell and the owner of the offending phone.

There being no more bing-bongs, the pastor went on. Before he had said two words another phone went off.  Or the same one, maybe, with an alarm or bothersome noise letting the owner know about the missed call. It went on and on; no one in the congregation made a move to silence it. Russell paused, giving someone a chance to fix the problem.  When that didn’t happen, he made some light comment about no one being willing to claim ownership, closed off the sermon thoughts quickly and began the invitation to the Lords Supper, raising his voice to talk above the racket.

Fortunately, as he began the prayer, the phone stopped. Maybe God struck it dead, which was certainly my fervent petition by then.

The rest of the service of Holy Communion went unaccompanied by cell noise, two people came forward at the invitation and just before the benediction, the pastor made the forgiving gesture of down-playing the interruption with, “These things happen.”

So, this is not intended as one more cell phone story, but one of a community of believers coming together to worship, to love each other, to laugh together, to share in the sacrament of Holy Communion, to welcome new members into our church family and to excuse mistakes with humor and understanding.

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America’s Got Talent, Sometimes

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A personal blog is not really the best place for true confessions, but I have a burden of guilt I must unload.  This summer, during the hiatus of my favorite television shows, I have been watching America’s Got Talent.

Right! Me! Hater of reality TV from the onset, put off by the rat eating and the back biting and hanky-panky that goes on in the jungle or on the island. I tired quickly of even the ‘reality’ shows focused on singing and dancing. I tried American Idol and Dancing With the Stars, sticking it out only one season. The format has quickly become cliched: three judges, one of them mean, contestants are booted off in front of the audience, the camera picking up every emotion. The winner (or sometimes the loser) is announced after a gut-wrenching, tension-building, cat-call-filled 45 second wait. “And you will be going home … … … … John Brown and the Molding Bodies!” It’s all so last week (as is that phrase).

But here’s the thing. I love variety shows. Loved Ed Sullivan in his time. In the course of an hour you could see singers, dancers and stand-up comedians.  I even liked most of the copy cats who tried to follow Sullivan. So, while channel surfing one night in June, I stopped on a group of four bicyclists performing dangerous tricks on a stage. When they finished, three judges gave their varied opinions and then a young girl came on with a jazz/ballet routine.  A variety show!  That’s what this is. Mute the judges, skip the hype and drama of who comes back next week and you have a program where you can see singers, acrobats, magicians, contortionists … a little of everything. And best of all, most of it is worth watching.

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