It’s Friday again, and I’m in New York City with daughter Amy, son-in-law Orte, and grandsons Daniel and Gabriel. That in itself is reason enough to be HAPPY. But here are FIVE more reasons:
1.. Still filled with memories of last weekend’s beautifully fun St. Patrick’s Day.
2.. Finding this cool driftwood-and-found-objects ship sculpture at Habersham Antiques and Collectibles in Savannah.
3.. Realizing that so much about being joyful in life is a result of CHOICE.
4.. Flying to New York with a five- and three-year-old.
5.. It’s freezing here in Manhattan, but here I am last week down on Amelia Island
Have a great weekend and take care of business while I’m away.
Anyone who has been to Savannah on or around March 17 knows that Saint Patrick’s Day is a pretty …
… in this city! From the Greening of the Fountain and Tara Feis onward, Savannah embraces its Irishness, shamrocks growing and showing up everywhere, an already diverse and fesitval-driven city photosynthetically converting excited energy into green Gaelic joy. And since 2013 St. Paddy Day was Sunday, Savannah opted to hold its primary celebration on Saturday with the parade (the nation’s second largest), River Street revelry and other merrymaking events.
Since Yours Truly lives DIRECTLY on the parade route along Abercorn Street, and since some green Irish blood flows through my veins (Saye =”one who lives by the sea”), I decided to host a little parade-viewing party.
Party Prep Notes: For some reason I will never fully grasp, I decided to make Cabbage and Ham in the Crock Pot (or as I call it, Beverly Hillbilly-ishly, “the Slow-Cooking Pot”).
Now cabbage sounds fine, and even a bit Irish, until you understand that my place is a little under 800 square feet, positioned at the front of a beautiful old building completed in the 1800’s. Well, the slow-cooking cabbage produced a Rather Strong Aroma (try not to imagine it), first in my apartment, then wafting across the hall to my next door neighbor and fellow party hostess Audrey’s place, then throughout the entire old building, and probably up and down the parade route and on to the South Carolina border across the river. People were so nice and pretended that the smell made the party more “Irish authentic.” But a bunch of folks had drinks in their hands, so I’m not at all certain their sensory perception was on target. AND I noticed they would get a bowlful of steaming, fragrant cabbage and then quickly run out the door to see the next band or float they “had been waiting on.”
Here’s me helping to set up the area for guests to sit and watch the parade outside my building (my windows have the St. Patty tacky shamrock cutouts and green garlands).
Before the parade started, I made a quick tour of the squares close to me. A few sights:
I met some cool green-clad new friends:
And then quickly back to my place where the crowd had grown during my foray.
I found this pretty lady pirouetting in front of my apt, so of course I had to get my pic with her:
Here’s across-the-hall stylish neighbor Audrey:
And here’s party guest/good buddy Ellie and her brother encouraging the crowd:
I wish I was brave enough to dance in the street!
Hip green-haired son/father duo Ethan and Kevin:
And Kevin with very significant other Olivia:
Former Everyday Creative Writing Student Jaymes stopped by for a while. (He knows what’s rocking in Savannah.)
Buddies Rich and Edward (who brought party-hit basil lemonade):
Cool St. Patty Baby:
Made great new friends with some folks visiting from Maryland and staying in the vacation rentals in my building (so of course they were party guests too)–Kathy and Karen with their husbands. And don’t they look SO Saint Patricky?
Preparing to kiss the parade marching men:
(Public Service Announcement: I think I will rent out my place next year for St. Paddy Day. Is $2000 for the holiday too much? I plan to include a HUGE bowl of frozen-but-on-the-table-in-a-jiffy Authentic Irish Cabbage and Ham.)
New kayaking friend Tom with Edward, Rich and me:
Church buddy Diane with Rich, Edward, Robert, Jaymes and me:
Good friend Zach and brother Josh marching in the parade (marching, that is, before I ran out into the street and made them stop). Their Irish family has been in the parade for something like 1000 years.
What a wonderfully fun Savannah Saint Patrick’s Day Celebration!
But sitting here after the parade, I started to worry: “What if my Crock Pot Cabbage Smell keeps those hundreds of thousands of visitors from coming back to Savannah next year? Can they trace it all back to me?”
Recently my laptop somehow got a Most Terrible Virus which shut my e-world down for a while. My first thought: “Why me?! What have I done to deserve this?!” (FYI: When distressing things happen to me, the idea of a Happiness Blog completely escapes my consciousness. Happy?! Are you CRAZY? And I start to think about writing a Pity Blog or a Hate Blog.)
On a tangent, I wailed the exact same “Why Me?” refrain, only louder and with man tears, when they cancelled Cop Rock back in 1990. You don’t remember Cop Rock? Fine, here’s a clip from the show–which has been listed among the Five Worst Television Programs of All Time. That really hurts my feelings BECAUSE I LOVED IT! What’s not to love? Cops singing, Gleefully, the storyline! Hello.
**********
Anyway, my computer got sick, and I sure didn’t feel like singing. I had to restart in Safe Mode and do all kinds of actions, such as holding one finger on F7 while I balanced on one foot. Nothing worked. I even asked Jesus for help. Finally, frustrated and lonely, I somehow made an online connection (Jesus’ help?) and started frantically downloading antivirus software right and left, kind of like Kathy Griffin making fun of Oprah and yelling in a frenzy, “Look under your seats! Tickets for everybody! You’re all going with Gail and me to Bali!”
An hour later, with my computer running smoothly, I regained my balance, on both feet. But it seems I had downloaded a few too many antivirus programs, including Avast!, McAfee, Trend Micro and Norton, most of which offered trial versions and then started to charge after a few weeks. So today I realized I needed to do some cancellation, or get another part-time job.
I contacted Norton, and here’s (finally!) where my story begins. Unable to get ahold of a literal person (is “literal” needed there?), I made a sort of appointment for an e-talk chat with a Norton customer service representative. Here’s what I initially saw on my screen:
“Thank you for contacting Norton Support. We are currently experiencing longer than expected wait times. You have been now been placed in a queue and our next available expert will be with you soon.”
**********
A few minutes later:
“Thank you for your patience. One of our experts will be with you soon.”
[To be honest, I didn’t really have to have an “expert”–just anybody who knew a little bit about cancelling my trial version would be cool.]
**********
And soon after:
“You are now chatting with Mark Anthony.”
[I felt like I used to feel when my time finally arrived to sit in Santa’s lap.]
**********
Neal Saye: I am trying to cancel my Norton trial version.
Mark Anthony: Welcome to Norton Support! My name is Mark, I’d be glad to assist you with regards to canceling your trial.
Neal Saye: Thank you.
Mark Anthony: Neal, may I ask why are you canceling your trial? Are you no longer using the Norton product?
Neal Saye: I already had an antivirus package on my computer.
[I was too embarrassed to admit that I had a Bali trip worth of antivirus programs protecting my laptop.]
Neal Saye: So I do not need another.
Mark Anthony: I understand Neal, but under this account nsaye@georgiasouthern.edu, I don’t see any trialware on it.
[His use of “Neal” started to make me feel as if I was talking to, I don’t know, maybe an old college buddy I hadn’t seen in eons.]
Neal Saye: Well actually that’s what I saw when I looked too. But I got a Welcome to Norton email at this email address.
Mark Anthony: I see. Okay let’s see if the product key for your trial is still on your computer. Can you check on your My Documents folder if there’s a Symantec folder?
Neal Saye: [Panicking] One second.
[I had no clue what he was talking about. “Product key”? Huh?]
Mark Anthony: No problem, Neal.
[That’s easy for him to say. He’s a customer service representative.]
Neal Saye: I don’t see one there.
[Embarrassed. Afraid he would dislike me because I couldn’t find the damn key.]
Mark Anthony: Okay, if you are sure that there is no Norton trial program installed on your computer, and I don’t see any trialware on your Norton account nsaye@georgiasouthern.edu, there’s no need for a cancellation, the one you received on your email is probably a Norton account greeting that you have signed-up an account.
Neal Saye: Okay, but if I somehow get charged, may I get a reimbursement?
[Beet red. Made me sound SO cheap.]
Mark Anthony: You may at anytime contact us back. If in any case you get charged, we will be more than happy to process a full refund.
[So happy. He cares.]
Neal Saye: Thanks. Also aren’t you either a famous singer or a Shakespearean character? What are you doing working for Norton?!
[I don’t know why I say such things to perfect strangers, but it seemed right at the time.]
Mark Anthony: I get that a lot Neal, and you’re most welcome.
Mark Anthony: Anything else I could assist you with today?
[I would like to have engaged in more banter about my singer/character joke. People close to me tell me that I’m not really a very funny person. But that I think I am. And that’s what makes people laugh. I never know whether to take that as a compliment or insult.]
Neal Saye: Thanks again for helping me, Mark Anthony. That makes me happy. Speaking of happy, I write a happiness blog–check it out sometime at NealEnJoy.com. I’ll mention you!
[Rule of business: Never miss an opportunity to sell yourself.]
Mark Anthony: That’s great Neal. I’ll be taking note of your blog and will check it out.
[Great response. We will see if he does.]
Neal Saye: Have a great weekend!
Mark Anthony: Thank you for contacting Norton support, feel free to contact us anytime if you have further concerns. Have a great day!
**********
I suppose there’s no real moral to this blog story–maybe just this: customer service representatives are people too.
Dr. Neal Saye. Associate Professor Emeritus of Writing and Linguistics Georgia Southern University. Adjunct Professor, Savannah College of Art & Design
Chair or co-chair of the Student Success conference for much of its 14-year history, Neal was also a key member of its founding committee. He reported on these experiences in “Pearls and Perils of Starting a Conference” (co-presented with Mary Marwitz and Michael Mills) at a Popular Culture Association in the South in Jacksonville, Florida. He brought the same dedication to running this conference as he did to his teaching philosophy. A dedicated blogger, Neal posted to his Facebook and WordPress sites: “My passion in life is learning about/exploring/playing with the subjects of joy and happiness. For the past five years or so, I have used this subject to inform my pedagogy and my day-to-day classroom assignments and activities. What has happened is that teaching about happiness has made me (and I hope my students) happier. Thus my passion spilled over into my teaching, which came rushing back into my life.”
Now an associate professor emeritus after 24 years of teaching writing at Georgia Southern University, Neal has returned to academia as an adjunct professor for the Savannah College of Art & Design. In addition to his well deserved emeritus designation, Neal’s honors and awards include Georgia Southern University Professor of the Year, 2010 and 1993; Dorothy Smith Golden Award for Teaching Excellence, Writing and Linguistics Department, 2003; Georgia Southern University Award for Excellence in Contributions to Instruction, 2001; “Most Approachable Professor” Award, Success-In-U Program, 1994; and “Funniest Professor” Award, Success-In-U Program, 1993. Neal earned his Ed.D. in Curriculum Studies/Cultural Studies in 2002. After earning dual B.S. degrees in English and Biology from Berry College, Neal came to Georgia Southern to earn his M.A. in English Language and Literature.
Here I am at the podium about two seconds after being introduced:
Kidding. I actually loved all 35 minutes of it! The audience was attentive, fun and laughed and ooohed at all the right places. I used loads of technology with videos, pics and graphics–which all flowed seamlessly. I’ll post the text of the talk a bit later (in case anyone’s interested) when I clean it up a bit for publishing. For now here are some photos.
Some of you may remember Mr. Happy (who is sort of my blog mascot). Technically he is jointly owned by me AND grandson Daniel. He lives in the back seat of my car (Mr. Happy, not Daniel) and helps me pick up Daniel from kindergarten a couple of days a week.
For months now, Mr. Happy has been nagging me for a train ride to Charleston, so early last Saturday morning, we hopped on board the 8:15 Amtrak bound for a one-night stay in the Holy City.
Less than two hours later, we arrived in beautiful Charleston, SC. (sister city of my hometown of Savannah).
From the station, our Charleston taxi driver (who “drove” like a wild New York cabbie) whisked us to our hotel, the Best Western King Charles Inn in the historic district ( a very nice hotel–stay there sometime).
The folks at the hotel treated us like royalty–especially Michael, Rhonda and Richard–and even gave us a beautiful upgrade … with rocking chairs on a balcony:
After reading up on some sites to visit, Mr. Happy and I hit the road walking.
We learned a bucketful of area history from guide extraordinaire Boyd Schuler when we toured the historic Edmondston-Alston House on the Battery overlooking the bay.
I want that house to be MY house! (If you have about four million extra dollars, please PayPal it to me ASAP. Thank you.)
Most awkwardly funny moment of the holiday so far–wait, let me set the scene. We were in the incredibly beautiful and highbrow lobby of the Ritz-Carlton–Buckhead in Atlanta over the weekend. Just past these Dickensian carolers:
Resplendent Santa standing by the fireplace, creating a perfect Christmas tableau, with adoring children all around. Without warning and with great, earnest conviction, five-year-old grandson Daniel yelling, “He’s a Fake!” His parents threatening loss of Christmas coming.
Minding my own business over the weekend, peacefully walking along the river in downtown Savannah, not at all trying to start something that would have to be finished, my joyfully calm day became something altogether darkly different when an overly confident Toy Soldier started to–.
Wait, let’s back up a second. Some of you know that I occasionally find myself, through no fault of my own, smack dab in the middle of the most painfully demanding staring contests. Renaissance men, famous football coaches, even Pirates all have been my adversaries in this universally accepted battle of true manhood and endurance.
Anyway, back to my story. As I was trekking through the lobby of the Riverfront Marriott, hoping to find some free holiday punch and maybe a cookie to further cheer me, and thinking about the feasibility of writing a letter to Santa at my age (that confession might be borderline funny if it wasn’t so very true), I heard a Snicker, a Snigger, and felt inexplicably Scorned, Scoffed. Initially thinking, Ebeneezer Scrooge-ishly, that the interruption might simply be the result of the fried duck and waffle breakfast I demolished earlier at B. Matthew’s on Bay Street, my sauntering slowed as I heard/felt the intrusion again. So I turned casually around …
… only to see a Smirk, a Sneer on a colorful (I’ll give him that), sorta French-looking Toy Soldier. I tried to be polite and friendly (afterall I write a happiness blog), but TS obviously had other plans, jerking his head one way, then the other in an only-partially-successful effort to intimidate me.
Finally after what felt like only minutes later, the feeble, old-enough-to-be-MY father concierge told me (rather rudely in my opinion), that I had to get out of his lap, and that no, his table was not big enough for both of us to sit behind. So I marched right back over to the Toy Soldier (he was perched by the only exit), knowing a battle awaited. Gathering my gumption, I flung myself headlong into Staring Contest #4.
And as is usually the case, whenever I stop trembling, Neal’s courage arrives. Holiday revelers gathered round, about half of them backing up TS, the others for yours truly.
Big deal that his fans were more festively dressed and enthusiastic than mine.
The battle intensified.
And even though I really had to use the bathroon after having sipped all the concierge’s cocoa, I held my own. The game I’m talking about.
As faithful blog followers know, I have a buddy “named” Riboclavin who is quite a character. (And of course we all know his name isn’t REALLY Riboclavin, come on, but as I said in a post from way back, “I’m just not very good at giving people fake names if they don’t want their real names ‘published’ on my blog because, heaven forbid, the ‘tens’ of people who follow my blog might see their name and … and … idk.”) Anyway, here he is, rocking. And even though that dualistic rocking chair looks über huge, Riboclavin looks comfortable and relaxed. And, really, isn’t that what counts?
[By the way (true story), on my 16th birthday, I received a rocking chair from my parents as my main gift.] [Therapy has helped. But only so much.]
Ribo loves two things in life (maybe more than two, but right now only these couple come to mind). One, he LOVES his dog MisterDillHarris.
Here’s MisterDillHarris with a big ole bone:
Two, he LOVES (or maybe hates, I’m not sure) his obsession with health, or actually his perceived lack of health. The guy can be standing in line at the movies to see, for example, Miley Cyrus in The Last Song, and all of a sudden he HAS to take his temperature. Don’t believe me? Well, here he is taking his temp.
And, look, here he is taking his dog’s temperature:
(For me, pretend this is normal. Thanks.)
So anyway, recently Riboclavin texted me a video link, and as usual, made NO attempt to introduce or explain the link. You can surely understand by now my trepidation and why I came two hairs close to deleting the text and pretending I never received it (as I do with any unwanted or ill-timed text, email, voicemail, regular mail, fax, postcard, Hallmark card, smoke signal, etc.). Afterall, his most recent link took me to a medical site where a disgusting surgical procedure was in full “operation,” causing me to gasp and snort and vow to never speak to Riboclavin again. But for some reason I decided, even with the high risk, to open the link. And I was pleasantly surprised! (If you’re near wood, please knock on it for me.)
Here’s the video, entitled “Dog Steals Cabbage.”
Now isn’t that cute … and happiness-worthy? Please tell Riboclavin thanks, and wish him good health.
