At a Loss for Word

I spent the day trying to write and wrestling with Word. I’m a decade late with this rant, but today it got me.

I can barely remember why, but I loved Word Perfect. It was so well named from a writer’s perspective. It was the document software in which I  learned to type and for a long time the standard for writers and PR people and everyone who wanted to share a common language. It could catch my thoughts as they leapt fully formed (if out of context) from my brow;  store sidebars without getting sidetracked; set up and organize the page, stylize it with heads and subheads and put things in the order I wished; insert exported images and show me how they looked; accept Tom Swifties and newly minted puns; and help me express my thoughts in my own voice.

Then came PCs and laptops and Word slipped in under the tent flap and became the standard. Let’s face it, by comparison, Word bites and . . . behaves in other infantile ways. (You know what I mean, but you’ll see in a minute *** why I can’t type it.)

Who made Microsoft geeks the emperors of syntax and spelling and slang (Oh my!)? Who taught them to spell and keep up with language? Why are they the Wizards of Word? Why don’t they know that the basics (page layout, font, ability to insert, addition of typographical and graphic marks) should be doable without leaving the page? How come they use spellcheck to block current spelling of workplan and wasteland and  inhouse that don’t have hyphens- and make us change our use of speech to accommodate that quirk? What kind of bleeping editing program does not challenge words like ‘pubicrelations’ when you meant public relations, or f*** and s*** when you meant to write funk or shim? C’mon, that’s adolescent geekspeak for gotcha, smartyhosen!

What’s your favorite Word bugaboo?  While I’m at it, why do they call it Windows when they’re opaque, and laid on top of what you need to see for reference? For puzzle fans there are seven words flagged here in red by Word (none were on Lenny Bruce’s list).  Can you find them?

All for today. Rest easy  (See? If they knew syntax they’d have flagged that for easily!).

Guest blogger Ann Getman is a writer, painter and public relations consultant based in Cambridge, MA.
New Cambridge Observer is a publication of the Harris Communications Group of Cambridge, MA.

OK, I guess it’s time for me to weigh in on Sunday’s  Oscar ceremonies. My friends R,  A and I could not help but notice that  many of the be-gowned stars had bad hair: it was  either stringy,  in their faces or matted down, in patches.  Watching  from anything-goes Cambridge, even we were shocked. We liked Jennifer Hudson’s red dress and new figure and Oprah’s hair and straightforward presence (if not the boxiness of created by the stiching in her black  bodice). We  were a bit creeped out by Kirk Douglas and relieved when he made it through.  I thought Anne Hathaway was great in Love and Other Drugs, did a great job with her song,  and was a clear winner in the   best  gushiness category.

Which brings me to the point: James Franco. (Full disclosure–which I repeat whenever I get the chance–he is a cousin. Don’ t ask me how–but my mom grew up in Cleveland with Mitzi, his grandmother, and somehow, their  grandparents were related or perhaps two and the same). James’ Oscar appearance has been the topic of much discussion.

As my friend D wrote on Facebook: Can’t help it — after seeing Bob Hope and Billy Crystal, who can take Anne Hathaway and what’s-his-name seriously as Oscar hosts? At least bring back Alex Baldwin.

Feb. 17, 2011
Perhaps I spoke too soon about that neighborliness in tough times thing.

The day after I posted the photo of the snowman on the bench in the Cambridge Common, someone  knocked the bow-tied guy down.

Ice is making it hard to walk, and, now, there’s a layer of dirt on huge mounds of -snow to the point where it’s difficult to see where you’re going.

My friend E and I almost got killed  driving on Route 2 when a car scooted out from behind a drift that must have blocked that  driver’s view.

Six weeks into this,  I’m rarely taking out my car: not only is it it risky to drive, but where on earth will I find a place to park when I get back?

In for the winter?

In my neighborhood, many people still have not dug out their cars;  I have, several times,  but even so, to avoid driving around all night,  I’ve been skipping meetings–or using public transportation when I can.

One of my neighbors decided to brave it–but when she went out to her car, she found it parked in so tightly that even the American Automobile Association couldn’t tow her out.  She left an angry note,  keyed the offending car, then called the police, who said they couldn’t do anything because both her car and the offender’s were illegally parked.

A student at Harvard Law who grew up in LA asked  how anyone can live here for a lifetime. “It’s so depressing!” he said. I told him that some years, we don’t get any snow at all–and that, even this year,  it could be worse: .  he  could be at Cornell Law, in Ithaca, NY or  SUNY Albany, or, worse yet,  Buffalo.  My  (I see now)  obnoxious advice to him? Learn to love skiing and–chill out. Spring will come.”

Feb. 21, 2011
That was then. This is now. Over the weekend, someone bashed in the driver’s side of my parked car…I’m guessing  $700 damage.  And–it’s snowing again!

I say…so much for neighborliness.  Like winter, evidently, it  only lasts so long!

Anita M. Harris

New Cambridge Observer is a publication of the  Harris Communications Group, a marketing communications and public relations firm in Cambridge, MA.

Violation?

Didn’t winter used to be fun?

I’ve had enough of winter, haven’t you? My Cambridge cul de sac looks like a medieval walled city, with snow banks 4-6 feet on all sides. I’m blessed with great neighbors who help to dig me out, but still, it’s cold, slippery, wet, slidey, and I miss the light of a clear sky.

Didn’t winter used to be fun? How long ago was that? Didn’t we look forward to it and make plans to sharpen skates and sled runners, wax toboggans, waterproof boots and get out the snow tires? I could skate, cross country ski, sled and snowshoe! I didn’t, very often, but I could, and that was invigorating.

I first moved to Boston in 1966 and thought it was wonderful to see the city from a trolley or a subway bridge. I was wowed by how the Public Garden and River paths were cleared for walking, how the sidewalks were shoveled out and business went on as usual. What did I care if school was closed, I could get the bus to work downtown. I could take a trolley to Jamaica Plain and explore the Arboretum. I could hike around Fresh Pond, climb up into the shagbark hickory trees and listen to the absolute hush broken only by birdsong.
When I got my first car, a winter-worthy Volvo, it came with snow tires- heavy, studded and ferocious. I lived in an apartment building with no storage, so they were kept at my parents’ house in CT between April and September, but I had a real sense of pride and mobility knowing I owned snow tires. I felt invincible! I could get to Concord or Lincoln or Sudbury, or drive around Quabbin for a real taste of winter!

During the blizzard of 78, I was living in Oak Square, Brighton, near the end of the trolley line, in a three-decker in a family neighborhood. Kids were eager to make some money shoveling out my car, and they’d stop by with sleds on their way to the grocery store,10 blocks up the hill in “town” (Brighton Center), to see what their neighbors needed. We all had to wait a week for the National Guard to dig out the street, and as they came through with an amphibious rescue vehicle followed by a snow plow, I was right out there on my second story porch to cheer them on, whooping and swooping down with hot coffee to thank them.

I haven’t even heard of snow tires for years. This winter snow plows are as much to be dodged as to be followed and applauded (and I’ve done both in the last week). Most two-way streets are reduced to a single travel lane, adding wait time to everything from getting out of the driveway to making a turn. With every snow, one more parking space on the street is lost. In my neighborhood we don’t respect or reserve a dug-out spot; move it and lose it seems to be our motto, and shallow spaces be darned. But the narrower streets, wider vehicles, and high snow banks make that 3-point turn into my 45 degree angle driveway comical, when it’s possible at all.

Winter driving is a different challenge: the low angle of the winter sun makes it painful to the eyes to be outside after 2 PM. Walking to the bus or subway, from the house I chose because it’s close to buses and the T, requires a lot of slippage, splashage (it should be a word) and boot leakage along sidewalks and across curbs. This week I went outside in tights, leggings and sweatpants; a turtleneck, fleece jacket and parka, with two hats, gloves and mittens. One wet foot sent me right back inside. That’s when I heard myself say out loud, “Didn’t winter used to be fun?”

If I’d only thought to get my wood-burning stove’s chimney pipe inspected last fall, and stock in some firewood. If I’d kept up cross country skiing or bought a bobsled at the hardware store instead of another snow shovel. If I’d only made snow sculpture in the front yard or started a friendly snowball fight with a neighbor or taken the Red Line to Braintree to see how other neighborhoods cope with snow, or, or, or…

Wait a minute… That’s what used to make winter fun! When it was playful to slide around, and silly to fall down, not scary. When cold and wet were always paired, and closed schools meant a free day to explore and have adventures. When we lay down in our snow gear at the edge of the pond to watch the fish moving, or made snow angels in the parks. When a nighttime tour to see Christmas lights so garish they could be seen from outer space was always done on foot. When just the change of season was something to celebrate and experience fully.

Next winter I want to have winter fun again. I’m not ready to move indoors, worry about bruising my shins or landing on my tookas, or to move to the high desert (yet). Next year I will get some cold- and wind-proof clothes, strap on my yak trax and get out there in the weather: winter revels will mean reveling in winter! Maybe I’ll get some really solid snow- and water-proof winter boots (even if they’re ugly), look for snowshoes or even look around for snow tires! Life may be getting shorter, but winter’s too long not to be fun!
But this winter’s got me beat, so for whatever is left of it, if I can drive there, and there’s a dry place to sit and a hot beverage involved, I’ll meet you there. We can reminisce and plan ahead!

Ann Getman
Cambridge. MA



New Neighbor

This morning, I ran into this fellow  on the Cambridge Common.  When he tried to pick me up,  I gave him the cold shoulder, which he seemed to enjoy. Oh, well.

It was cool to come upon the whimsical snowpersons  that seemed to guide my way  along the paths covered in deep snow by yesterday’s fierce blizzard …especially after President Barack Obama’s thoughtful talk, last night, about the importance of civility, the American national family and the need  to move forward in a positive way after  the horrific shootings in Tuscon. [ Here’s a link to the speech, in case you missed it: http://pol.moveon.org/azobamaspeech.html?id=25807-6209466-EecNh0x&t=3]

In fact, despite all the awful things going on the world–or maybe because of them–I’m finding that my neighbors–like whoever made the snowman–seem to be more considerate these days. After the last big storm, I ran into someone from the building next door (who asked me not to use his name) who was clearing snow, water and ice at a crosswalk so that people would not have to wade through deep water to reach the curb. And my downstairs neighbor, who doesn’t have a car, sometimes just shovels out other peoples’ cars for the fun (and exercise) of it.

Actually, I’ve felt that many people have been more neighborly, nicer, since 9/11…tho this group does not include certain Republicans and pundits who seem to get nastier as time goes on. I was shocked to learn that Ben Quayle, Vice President Dan Quayle’s son, who is now, unfortunately, a Congressman, actually said in a campaign ad that Barack Obama is the worst president this country has ever had..and don’t get me started on Sarah Palin’s trigger-happy “mean girl” rhetoric.  Rather than engage in namecalling and derision,  I’ll quit now –and simply  thank whomever built Mr. Snowman for your neighborliness and sense of fun. You really brightened my day!

–Anita M. Harris

Anita M. Harris is president of  the Harris Communications Group, a public relations and marketing firm in Cambridge, MA.

This month, Charles LeDray and Evelyn Rydz at the Institute of Contemporary Art, Boston,  and Leonardo Drew, at the DeCordova Museum in Lincoln, MA, share a common theme–all focus on decay and the passage of time.

DeDray makes small items–men’s clothing, thousands of tiny ceramic pots,  sculptures in stitched fabric, carved bone, and wheel-thrown clay. As ICA materials point out, the smaller-than-life formal suits, embroidered patches, ties, and hats, as well as scaled-down chests of drawers, doors, and unique, thimble-sized vessels–and even facsimiles of used clothing stores complete with dust, make the viewer feel large and encourage thought about the content of the constructions. For example the coat in the photo to the left encompasses all sorts of other clothing–bras, pants, tops–making the point that individuals are composites of their experiences and other people.

My friend E liked the exhibit–because it elicited people no longer with us.  S, who tends to save things, found it interesting.

Nearby, in the galleries housing winners in the ICA’s Annual Foster Prize Exhibit, Evelyn Rydz’s “intricate drawings of beaches, based on her own photographs–focus on objects she finds washed up on coastlines worldwide. ”

According to the ICA, this work explores ” the site where sea meets land”…and shows “characters with long stories to tell.” She “references the journey and transformation that these objects have undergone, illuminating their role as castaways in foreign landscapes.”

At the DeCordova, Drew’s show, “Existed”  highlights  “the cyclical nature of creation, decay, and regeneration through a selection of large-scale sculptures, installations, and works on paper.

Built from rows of stacked cotton and wooden boxes, stuffed with rags, covered with scavenged objects, and caked with rust to suggest degeneration, Drew’s sculptural work is made to resemble the detritus of everyday life.

The artist often ages his found and fabricated materials, employing a process that is physically and conceptually steeped in memory, history, and the passage of time. These disparate materials are often composed within a grid that organizes the chaos into an ordered structure.

 Not exactly the pleasantest of subjects.

And  I suppose it’s good to be able to find beauty in decay–or to make beauty of  it.

In pondering the  decisions to highlight these artists,  I can’t help but conclude that  the curators are  making  statements about the current state of civilization, politics, and art.  All of these artists are highly skilled at what they do. But  I ask, after exploring and commenting on decay and loss, what is left for them (and us?) to do?

Anita M. Harris

Anita M. Harris, a writer and photographer, is president of the Harris Communications Group of Cambridge, MA.

Kudos to the display team at the new Anthropologie shop in Harvard Square–their store windows are works of art that absolutely drew me into the store–although I really don’t need a thing.

Anthropologie, located at 48 Brattle St, in Cambridge, has taken over the old Design Research building–which has been almost empty for over a year since Crate and Barrel moved out.

 The new store carries an enticing array of clothing, jewelry, shoes, boots, bags and home goods. Most items are a bit ornate for my tastes but definitely worth a visit if only to see the store’s  artistic and  creative arrangements of merchandise.  –Anita M. Harris

New Cambridge Observer is a publication of the Harris Communications Group of Cambridge, MA. We also publish HarrisCom Blog.