Bumper to Bumper

My oldest son turned 16 last month, and earned his driver's license soon after.
Between all the insurance quotes, and getting his grandpa's old car ready so that his first set of wheels would be in good working order, there's been so much going on that I didn't really have time to stop and think about my son.

On the road.

Alone.

We spent a good amount of time driving around while he had his permit. He behind the wheel, me trying not to grasp the passenger side door handle like a life preserver.

And I'm okay with it.

Really, I am. I trust him. It's the other drivers on the road that I abhor.  Every time I'm driving and someone pulls a stupid-driver-move, my worry starts anew.

Like last night... I'm driving home with my daughter. It's around 9:45. Dark. Not much traffic. I'm sitting at a red light at a major intersection behind a silver minivan. There are four lanes. Two are left turn only - onto a highway. We are in the left of the two lanes going straight.
Above my head, the two red lights over the turn lanes change to green arrows. Mind you, our stop lights were still red.
The minivan begins crossing the intersection. Two cars heading the other direction - and turning left - have to slam on their brakes.  Horns blare. The minivan's break lights go on for a split second - maybe she's confused - then she continues on her way. Right through the red light.

Upon hearing the horns, my daughter asks what happened.
"A lady just ran a red light," I told her, glancing in my rear view mirror to give her a reassuring smile.
"Probably on the phone," my daughter dead pans.

Probably.
It is these things I worry about. And I tell my new driver.
Daily.
"You have to anticipate the other driver's actions," I say as casually as possible.
He nods, serious.
"Never assume they're paying attention, ya know bud? Just because they have a red light doesn't mean they're going to stop."
"Got it" he assures me.

But you never know what's going on in the cars around you...

Case in point:

It's a brisk, winter day at the end of 2001. December 26th, to be exact.  I had just dropped Connor, who at the time was just four years old, off at pre-school and headed to the mall with my little guy, Jack (then 2) and my mom. Like most of America on the road that day, we were returning and exchanging gifts and cashing in on some gift cards. As we leave the mall, Jack is getting fussy. Strapped in his car seat, he starts to throw a bit of a tantrum. My mom pulls an individually wrapped life saver out of her purse. "Can I give him one of these?"

I glance over. Those individually wrapped ones are larger than their full-roll counterparts, so I thought it would be fine. Besides, I'd heard that Lifesavers were given their name because they had a whole in the middle - they were supposed to be safe because even if it gets stuck in your throat, you can still breath through that little hole.

"Um, sure," I say.

My mom unwraps the candy and hands it to Jack, who stops whining, smiles and pops it in his mouth.

I pull out of the mall parking lot, and follow the traffic down the street towards a major intersection. As I pull my mini van (yeah, I had a mini van) up to the light, it turns red, and I stop behind two other cars. A line of traffic forms behind me.

My eyes are on the light, waiting for it turn green, when I hear Jack cough. Once, twice.

"You okay buddy?"  As I turn my head to look back at him, he starts choking in earnest.  Crap.
"Jack?" I throw the car into "Park," unbuckle my seatbelt, pull off my jacket and climb in back.
 "Oh, God," I hear my mom say.
I try patting him on the back, telling myself to stay calm. "It's okay buddy."

His face is turning red. I unbuckle his car seat and start pulling his winter coat off of him.
"Beth!" my mom's voice sounds like it's traveling through a tunnel. She is yelling something about the light turning green.  Car horns are blaring. I don't care.
I pull jack out of his seat and stick my pinkie finger in his mouth. Nothing. I crouch down between the two middle seats in the van, turn him around so that he's facing forward, clasp my hands just under his sternum and start short pumps, in and up.

I hear him gasping and my mom yelling. Then a distinct "ping" as the lifesaver hits the front windshield. I can't remember if he started throwing up before or after the "ping" - or maybe it was somewhere in the middle.  Those few moments are a blur now.
I do remember that after the "ping," he started to cry.

As did I.

Exhausted, I pull him into my lap in the open passenger seat and hold him, whispering that everything is okay.
That's when I hear the sirens, and notice the mess of cars trying to get around me. I open the sliding door of the van and explain to the officer what had happened.
He escorts us down the street to a fire station, where a paramedic checks him out, and we clean up the van as best we can.


***
But I digress.

I was on the phone with a client the other day who also happens to be a new dad. His little girl is about seven months old.  "She just started crawling," he informed me (I could hear the smile in his voice). "So, I ran out and bought all those protective covers for the outlets, ya know? And those padded bumpers?" I nodded, though he couldn't hear me, as he continued, "I just wish I could cover every single surface in the house with those things, ya know? To protect her?"
I agreed with him around the lump in my throat.  "I know how you feel. My oldest just got his driver's license."
"Oh. Wow!"
"Yeah. I kinda wish I could cover every single road in the city with those padded bumpers." He laughed and I smiled. Wiped a tear (thankful it wasn't a skype call) and we went back to business as usual.

It is nice to have another driver in the house, though. He's been more than helpful, dropping his brother off at friends' houses, picking his little sister up from summer camp and whatnot.

From crawling to walking, school busses to driving... I guess all we can do is prepare them the best we know how, remember to breathe, and enjoy the ride...

Communication really is key. Anybody know where I left my key?

I'm a communicator by trade.

Since 1993 I've made a living marketing brands' goods and services. And since 2004, I've made nice income on the side writing - helping companies communicate via their website, print and web ads, brochures, press releases, training manuals, video scripts and the like.
So, really, I'm a professional communicator. Right? I know a thing or two about how to use the right words to communicate the message. Let's agree on that right off the bat.

Still with me?
Great.

So, why is it that there are still times when I might not understand a message being delivered to me? And when my message to others is misunderstood? I'm a professional, dammit!

Okay, but here's the thing.  Each of us comes equipped with a brain (yeah, yeah, that's questionable... I know you're reading this thinking, uh, yeah, not this guy I know...). But in general, let's agree that most everyone's got a little something upstairs.

The problem is, along with the brain power, that mass in the head is also filled with various messages, thoughts, and life experiences that give us our own world view, a different voice, and a unique filter for receiving said messages.

Case in point.  A few weeks ago, an old friend invited me to a baseball game. I'll state up front that this friend is male.  Not that there's anything wrong with that, of course (insert polite laughter among the men, knowing smirks among the women).  But it's been proven - in a published book no less - that men and women are from two different planets. And if the printed word is to be believed, well, that's like communicating with someone who, quite literally, can be roughly anywhere between 60 and 222 million miles away (this according to a scientific website - the distance changes based on the movement of the planets of course. But I find this very interesting because it also speaks to the fact that some males and females communicate very well together while others, well... not so much).

But I digress.  The morning of the baseball game, this friend (let's call him "T") called me apologizing. He had forgotten that he'd already invited someone else to the game, and forgot. Just like that, I was out. She was in. My mind received the message something like this: I realized I'd rather go to the game with her, so I'm essentially uninviting you. Sorry. I found out later from "T" that in his mind, it was more important to do the right thing. He truly had forgotten. He'd been reminded, and believed that the right thing to do was to honor the original commitment, regardless of what he wanted to do. In his mind, it was right vs. wrong. In my mind it was her vs. me.

See?

In case it's a bit convoluted, here's my point: Know your audience. This is absolutely essential.
What if you are "talking to" a very large audience? you ask.  Good question! This is why it's so important to make your messages clear and use the simplest language. I want to laugh when I read emails, blog posts, and articles that use "big fancy" words. Exactly who are you trying to impress? Simplicity is key. Be clear. Be concise. And leave no room for interpretation. That way, regardless of your audience, your odds of being understood will be that much better.

I love words.  Really.  I'm fascinated by them. How they can be put together in so many ways, to create so many meanings. I'm fascinated by where language comes from, how it's interpreted. And why it's misunderstood.

I find it fascinating, too, that writing is becoming both commonplace (now that the internet, blogs, e-publishing and texting has given everyone a platform and a voice) and a lost art (what with all the butchering of our language, proper grammar and punctuation).

What do you think of the great gender divide? Are we really so far apart in our communication? And I'm curious, is there anyone else out there who shudders when they come across a gross butchering of our language? What's your biggest grammar peeve?

An American Girl in Paris Part Trois

So, not only was my 10 days in Paris an amazing trip, but it forced me to unplug and truly enjoy some down time.  After my second blog post, I lost all internet connection. Wifi was sketchy, and I just couldn't connect long enough to write a post each day.

Drop a writer in Paris and then tell her she can't write? It was more than a little frustrating. Now that I am home, after a very long day of traveling yesterday, I can look back through my notes and pictures and give you a quick tour...

From Paris, we traveled to South to Lyon, Avignon, Arles, and several other towns - each with their own unique beauty. We made pastries with french chefs, drank espresso in street side cafes, sampled delicious chocolates and many varieties of red and white wines.  

Here - finally - are a few pictures...

Amphitheater in Arles, France. Built in 80AD

Did you know that the word salary comes from the word salt? Way back when, soldiers were paid in salt.  This is also where the term "worth his salt" comes from.

Aquaduct in Arles, France

The cafe to the left is the Cafe De Nuit - the very same that Van Gogh painted - in the famous painting at right. This is also the same cafe of the poem "Starry, Starry Night" fame.

Beautiful town of Chateauneuf De Pope

Pastry class in Paris! We made macaroons - delicious!

The Eiffel Tower at night - beautiful!

A winery in the South of France that has been in the same family since the early 17th century.

It was a fantastic trip, but not without its ups and downs, which I will share in a later post. Right now, I am going to spend some much needed time with my kids!

An American Girl in Paris... Part Deux

Before I begin: Blogger is behaving very badly and I am having a terribly difficult time importing pictures. So, unfortunately, I can't show you any of the beautiful things I write about here. Hopefully I will have it all sorted out once we arrive in Lyon, which we will be traveling to today, via the high-speed train.

Until then...

I believe I am finally on the Parisian time clock!  I woke up this morning and ran down to the hotel "spa" (gym) for a mini boot camp work out before our day began.  The hotel offers a complimentary breakfast buffet.  This is nothing like the breakfast buffets you are used to at a typical hotel.  The food was delicious, and the coffee is very strong - but so smooth.

Afterwards we headed out for a day of food tasting and sightseeing.  There was still some fog at 9:15am and this, accompanied by the unfamiliar cadence of parisien sirens only added to the ambiance.  We went to a French market where we tried zucchini topped with ice cream... an interesting flavor combination that started out cool and sweet, changed to smoky (think Gouda cheese) and then mildly crunchy.  It was ... interesting. Not bad, but not something I would purposefully order!  We also tried a violet tea drink with a piece of crystallized violet that tasted just like candy - delicious!

The market was a riot of gorgeous colors, fresh produce, and wonderful scents.

Here's something I love about Paris.  For 1 Euro you can rent a bike for half an hour (longer, of course, for more Euros) to make your way across the city. There are bike "lots" all over the city where you can simply swipe a credit card to unlock a bike.  When you lock the bike up at any "station" the time-clock automatically stops on your card.  Brilliant!

Same goes for cars, which they also offer in NYC and Chicago, but the bikes I'm not so sure they offer elsewhere (please do correct me if you know differently).

But I digress.  The highlight of our morning was a visit to a french chocolatier, where the owner educated us on the differences among various types of chocolate and offered several samples.  Again... delicious!

We were free to wander and find a restaurant for lunch.  We left our group and found a wonderful restaurant in the 6th arrondissment - near (or in? not sure) St. Germaine Square.  Let me digress for a moment to explain further about the 6th arron.  This is the most exclusive area to live in all of Paris. Apartments here sell for $12,000 per square meter.  Can you imagine?

St. Germaine Square is the place to see and be seen.  In his day, Hemingway used to write in the small establishments here, because a cup of coffee was just 10 Euros, and there was heat - a warm place for a starving writer to work all day.

We visited Le Procope which is the oldest restaurant in the city. This was a place where Le Voltaire and Bonaparte use to visit. Bonaparte once left his hat as payment because he did not have enough money to pay his bill.  His hat still resides in the restaurant today.

So... we sat outside a cafe for lunch of course, and people-watched, then rejoined our group to head back to the Champs Elysee where we took a pastry class with Chef Matthew.

He was very charming, and the desserts were outstanding.  He taught us how to make Macaroons, Chocolate Tarts and Tiramisu - Delicious!

Afterwards, we headed back to the hotel. My dad and I decided to walk to the Apple store here and received very simple directions from the conceirge at our hotel.  Simple my ass.  Paris is not as easy to navigate as NYC (their grid system, to me, is quite simple).  After a few wrong turns and two attempts to ask non-enlish speaking french people for directions, we finally found it. This Apple store is like a church! But of course, it's in Paris, what did we expect?

We did a little shopping then walked the mile or two back to the hotel, stopping once at a market for a bottle of wine, then again for a quick bite to eat before finally heading back to our hotel.

It has been a very long, but wonderful day.

An American Girl in Paris, Part Une

What a day it has been... and what day is it, exactly? Now I know fully what it means to have jet lag.  Today was May Day in Paris so the shops were closed, which worked out for me, because I was desperate for a long nap.  Before I get ahead of myself, I have to back up a bit...

First/Business Class is just superb.  I don't think the international flight attendants were quite prepared for my Aunt Diane and me. We had one hell of a time trying out the seats - they reclined into several positions, all the way to flat for sleeping. We sipped Mimosas and wine, and dined on French cheese, etc. etc. After an Ambien-induced nap on the plane we woke up 7 hours ahead of our internal clock. Motion sickness hit pretty hard on the landing, which took me about an hour to overcome.

But I digress.

Paris is very much like you think it would be. The architecture is beautiful, the cars are small, the rain  is steady but very light.  Our hotel sits just down the street from the Arc De Triomphe and the Champs De Elysee.  And to my Parisien friends, I apologize for any spelling errors... I'm just that tired.

Our dinner lasted more than 3 hours - God only knows how many courses and glasses of wine, but it was all excellent.  After dinner, we went to see the Eiffel Tower.  Lit up at night, it was just beautiful.  Have you ever waited so long to see something that you think you might be disappointed to discover it's not as you had imagined in your dreams?  Not so for the Eiffel Tower. It is truly magnificent.  I'm looking forward to seeing it in the day time.

Of course, this is a tourist attraction, and the hawkers were out in full force trying to sell their plastic Eiffel Tower replicas for "just one Euro!"

In my library at home hangs a framed picture of the Champs De Elysee.  It is a beautiful painting of a tree-lined street, fresh and peaceful after a light rain.  The real thing is no less a sight to see, but it did seem much more commercial to me in real life, and not unlike Madison Avenue in Manhattan.  I'm not sure whether this was a disappointment or a relief to me. I do love Manhattan, but it did take away just a bit of the romance of this city of lights.

Tomorrow we leave the hotel at 9:15 am for several tours, the first of which will take us to a Patisserie where we'll learn how to make French Macaroons, and taste more amazing French wine.

I wanted to post a few pictures by blogger is giving me hell and I'm in no mood to fight, so... tomorrow.

Bonne nuit mes amis!