Private Ryan

When my son was a teenager, he loved playing video games, like most young boys do. He especially liked playing rather violent shoot-em-up games, which I despised. This was ten years ago; I cannot imagine the graphics of today, which must be much more life-like than those of ten years ago. Some, if not most, of those violent video games Sean played were war games. I was concerned that Sean was taking the subject of war way too lightly and that war was far too glamorized in movies and video games. So, when the movie "Saving Private Ryan" came out the summer that Sean was 15, I knew I wanted him to see it.

We were in Connecticut for a few weeks that summer, staying with my parents for a few days. I thought it was important that even though we were only back east for two weeks each year, that Sean spend time with his grandparents while we were there. One rainy day, we all went out to see "Saving Private Ryan". I've seen my dad cry, but this was the only time I had ever seen my dad cry at a movie. My dad rarely spoke about World War II, of which he was an active participant. This movie just really hit home for my dad, and I think it changed my son's view of war. War is bloody ugly and real people die. Some friends and family members never return. One does just not "go on to the next level", unless you are referring to heaven. War is not a game.

Today is Memorial Day, a day to remember those who lost their lives so that the rest of us could enjoy picnics and barbecues on May 31st. Let us not forget those brave men and women in the armed service who lost their lives so that we could continue to enjoy ours in peace and freedom.

Jimmy

When I was a kid, Memorial Day meant that we kids got to wave small American flags all day, and that we were going to see a PARADE. This was pretty big excitment in my small five year old world. When we were really small, sometimes my dad would hoist my sister or myself on his shoulders to watch the parade go by. We watched uniformed men (and sometimes women) march by, bands would play, a few lovely ladies would wave from the backs of convertibles, and a baton twirler or two, in a shimmering, sparkling bathing suit and wearing tall white boots would strut their stuff in time to the band music and throw their twirling batons high into the air and then most amazingly catch them as the batons came twirling back down. Sometimes my dad bought us balloons from a street vendor on the sidewalk. Seeing the parade was fun, we kids were excited, and we all went home feeling proud of our country.

At the time, I am sure that I did not understand what Memorial Day was really all about, but even at five years old, I understood that we were honoring the men and women who went off to fight for our country. I did not then understand the horrors of war, or wars fought over oil, or the draft, or war protestors, or getting mired in Vietnam, Afganistan or Iraq. But, all of that does not really matter on Memorial Day. Memorial Day should be about one thing only - honoring those who fought and died for the rest of "us" Americans, no matter what war, no matter how just or unjust.

Jimmy was a childhood friend who lived across the street from me from the time I was two until we moved away when I was 14. Jimmy was a few years older than me, but I played with his younger sister Susie all the time. Jimmy came back from Vietnam and one day, shortly after he got back, shot himself in the head. His experience in Vietnam took his life from him. He might as well have died in Vietnam. Jimmy, Memorial Day is for you, for you and all of your buddies who served and died in Vietnam.

Vietnam was an unpopular war, a draft war, a war collective America would like to forget, a war whose wounded came home to glares instead of parades. Let us hope that we treat our returning war veterans from Iraq and Afganistan, two more unpopular wars, with the honor and respect which they deserve.

Road Rage Revisited

I am a pretty calm driver. I may get frustrated by traffic jams, but my response is usually to get off the freeway and try a different route, rather than taking my frustration out on my fellow drivers.

However, there is something else that frustrates me to no end, for which I have zero patience. And that "something" is trying to get information over the phone.

It used to be easy. Pick up the phone, "dial" a number for assistance, and someone with a lovely calm voice, in unaccented Amerian English would patiently help you. Well, as everyone knows, those days are long gone.

I try to accomplish what I need to do online. If I run into a problem online, as I inevitably do, I end up hunting for a phone number to call for assistance. This phone number is usually so cleverly hidden that it takes a good five minutes to find it. Once I find the number and call, there is the usual five minutes of recorded message, followed by five minutes of waiting on hold. (I think that the on-hold wait is mandatory just to discourage callers, even if there are customer service support people twiddling their thumbs at the other end of the line.)

A customer service person finally answers, and their accent is so thick I have to ask them to repeat everything they say, and to please talk more S-L-O-W-L-Y. We know where your customer support staff are located, Corporate Business Company; it is so obvious, please do not even try to hide the fact that they are all located in India, where they can be paid dirt cheap wages. Having already given my name, zip code and numerous other details to a recording, the human being asks me for the same information, which I patiently provide. But, of course, I am not speaking to the person who can help me, so I am transferred. THREE TIMES, and each time I have to repeat all the information I gave to the first person. Do you think I am getting frustrated yet?

I finally lose it when the United Mileage Plus customer service support person on the other end of the phone repeatedly (ie, three times) asks me why I have not yet updated Mileage Plus with my current address (I moved a month ago; believe me, it was not on the top of my list of things to do). Why do they even need this information, when Mileage Plus has not mailed me anything through the postal service in years? Why is my email address (and my birthdate and phone number if they want to be super careful) enough information to identify me? And why were they so concerned about WHY I have not updated my address with Mileage Plus? The folks at Mileage Plus asked me for so much information, it was ridiculous. (Past addresses, past phone numbers, past zip codes....note the PLURAL on all of these items, some of which I do not recall by the way.)

Paying with frequent flyer miles is a payment method, like using a credit card. Frequent Flyer organizations do not exist to identify terrorists; that is for the airline personnel and airport security to worry about. When you pay online with a credit card, you are asked for far less information.

I should issue a formal complaint to Mileage Plus. I am just not sure that I have the energy to do this. I expended it all on the customer service personnel, including the manager I spoke with (and repeated all my information to yet a fourth time). By the way, I have noticed that customer service representatives never apologize when you complain that you were on hold for 15 minutes, or that they are the fourth person to whom you have been transferred. An apology for the wait would go a long way in diffusing some of the frustration building up before one even gets to talk to the correct person. But I guess no one really cares about the customer these days.

Why do they even bother to call it a customer "service" organization these day? They should just rename it to match the actual experience. "Hello, I am your customer frustration representative". Then perhaps they would be able to accomplish their goal - receiving far fewer customer calls.

Overrated

Toenails are highly overrated. Perhaps they served more of a function back when we were tree climbing apes, back when our toes were longer and grabbed a branch for a "foothold" as we contemplated which branch to grab and swing out on high over the jungle floor. Our fingers and toes are very sensitive, for good reason. We process information through our fingertips, more today than ever before. Touch is our very sensitive fifth sense. Protecting our senstive toes and fingers as they explored the world made a lot of "sense" during the days of early evolution. But once we stood upright, did it make as much sense?

Elephants have toenails too, as do many other animals. Animal "nails" serve different functions for different species. Dogs use their nails to dig. Cats nails have evolved into claws, useful for climbing trees to escape predators. I am not sure of the purpose of the elephants' nails, as they certainly don't have predators (a simple stomp of the foot can squash a stalking lioness that gets too close to junior ), or a need for digging holes to bury prey. Perhaps toenails served some functional purpose back in the Ice Ages, who knows.

As for humans, if we wear sandals, toenails certainly provide some protection for the heavy of foot, if say, you are ballroom dancing with clod who is wearing hiking boots. But besides that, I cannot think of a useful purpose for the troublesome toenail. (Do you know how long it takes to get an appointment with a podistrist?) And so, when confronted with toenail "issues", I sided with the Queen of Hearts. "Off with their heads!" said I to my doctor. And, with the simple snip of a knife (and, I have to admit, six shots of anesthetic), she cut off my nail.

Not only do I not miss my toenail, but I am much happier without it. If there were a painless, FDA approved, insurance-paying method for removing toenails, toes without toenails could even become a trend, similar to the trend of partially bald men who shave their heads. But somehow, I do not think that the nail polish industry would be in favor of such a fashion statement.

Yo, Momma

A twenty-something friend of mine has a blog, which probably comes as no surprise to anyone at all familiar with cyberspace. Her particular blog is about being a new mom. She is not only a good writer, but hilariously funny. She writes about all those embarassing moments the rest of us would rather bury deep in our subconscious and forget forever.

None of this surprises me. What does surprise me is one of the things my friend has written about in several of her recent posts -- the seeming current societal acceptance of public criticism of one's parenting techniques by other parents. And these people are not family members or friends; these are people you meet casually, people you meet in the coffee shop or in the line at the grocery store. These are folks whose names you don't know and who you will most likely never run into again, at least if you change the time of your daily Starbucks run.

I admit, its been many years since I was the parent of a young child, but I do not remember other parents criticizing my parenting skills openly and directly. Perhaps talking to me indirectly (ie, hinting that a different approach might be worth my looking into) or talking to another parent behind my back about my less-than-perfect parenting techniques, but never giving me direct criticism to my face.

Is my memory faulty? Were the parents of my generation just as bad, just as smug, just as arrogant? Perhaps, but I don't recall that the superior knowledge of the all-knowing parents spilled over into bad manners back then. Has the ability to write anything you please in MySpace and Facebook and Blogger spilled over into actual conversation? Have these social networking sites thrown Miss Manners off the island? Has the twenty-something generation ever heard of Miss Manners? If so, do they even care?

Its a Brave New World out there.

Lipitor

Ever notice how when you are trying to get pregnant, you notice all the pregnant ladies with their big baketball bellies sticking out in front of them? Not every woman in the world is pregnant at any given time, but it can sure seem that way.

I now see Lipotor ads on every TV channel during prime time, dramatizations urging men to take care of their heart health.

If only Lipitor could work its miracle by bringing my good friend Tim back to life -- that would surely save some of us from the searing pain we are suffering right now.

Invasive

When did flowering plants invade our grocery stores, like invasive weeds?

I do not recall grocery stores selling flowers when I was young. The grocery store where I worked as a teenager did not sell flowers, it sold food. Food. You know, things you can eat.

It is now May, allergy season, in just about every state in the union. So why, pray tell, do some grocery stores, not only sell flowers of every sort of pollinating variety, but put those flowers right next to the cash registers, the only way out of the store? I am mystified.

When I complained about this at one of my favorite stores (Trader Joe's in Palo Alto), the clerk at the cash register, who was also apparantly some sort of manager of the store, did not apologize to me, but instead told me that the flower display would be gone "by next week". He told me that many people have allergies, including himself, inferring that I should just suck it up, or go get allergy shots, like he does.

Thanks. Thanks a bunch. I don't think I will be coming back to this store anytime soon.