The Cottonwood Conspiracy

Have you noticed the clouds of white, cotton fluff blowing through the air?  It’s not low cumulous clouds, and certainly not snow.  It’s called cottonwood, and allergy suffers like me know it well.  Every year it starts to fly around the end of May. 

Cottonwood is a type of tree pollen.  It comes from Cottonwood trees which grow throughout the US.  They are large, majestic trees which provide nice shade, but they also produce the light, cotton-like white fluff that you see in the air in late spring.

It comes every year at this time, but this year seems exceptionally bad.  It’s everywhere – in the air, on the ground, in the back of my throat and especially up my nose.  I’m trying to figure out why.

An article in the Columbus Dispatch blames the heat.  According to the article, trees accumulate pollen (including cottonwood) when it’s cold, then release it all when the weather gets hot.  On top of that, the heat allows the pollen to thrive.  At least someone is thriving in this 90-degree weather.

Maybe so, but then I start to consider who might be benefiting from this blizzard.  There are the allergy docs, but they are too small to pull off such a caper.  The ones who truly profit from these allergies are the pharmaceutical companies.  If you’re like me, you’ve tried Zyrtec, Flonase, Claritin, Allegra, Sudafed, nasal spray and even Benadryl (if I don’t have anything to do that day except sleep).

I’m not usually much for conspiracy theories, but I’m starting to believe that the pharmaceutical companies are hauling in all this cottonwood by the truckload!  Then, they blow it into the air using huge fans or hoses.  Kind of like the ones they use to spread massive amounts of mulch or soil.  Is Jones Topsoil in on this?

Another possibility is the use of crop dusters or even giant drones to fly over and spread it everywhere.  Bombs away!  Has anyone seen a Zyrtec airplane or even an Allegra Blimp?  I did see a blimp flying over the Memorial Tournament.  Hmmm…

But where are the drug companies getting all of this cottonwood?  Could the Claritin company be hauling it in from across the border?  I mean it’s literally piling up on the sidewalks.  Yesterday I had to shovel my driveway.

Maybe Zyrtec is working with the Chinese in the Wuhan lab. Could the Chinese balloon that our military shot down have been filled with cottonwood?  The plot thickens…

Now I have absolutely no proof of my theory, but like most conspiracy theorists, I’m going to spread the news anyway.  I’ll blame the far right, or the far left, or the fake news!  Evidence, schmevidence.

I thought about calling for a boycott of all allergy medicine, but then none of us will be able to breathe. Instead, I’m hoping the drug companies might send me a bunch of free medicine… and tissues for that matter.  I’m happy to provide my mailing address if needed.

Meantime, I’ll just keep popping my pills, spraying my nose spray, and spreading my story like cottonwood!  Let’s make it go viral!

Deck Drama...The Next Book?

Watch what happens when Lucy crawls through a very small opening under the neighbor’s deck to chase a small animal. She ends up on the other side of the deck with no way out! At first, we have no idea where she is! We kept calling her name again and again, but we didn’t hear a thing. Finally, Mia heard a faint “yip” from under the deck next door! We had to recruit a few wonderful neighbors to help us remove three of the boards on the deck and finally free Lucy! As they say, sometimes the truth is better than fiction! Deck Drama has practically written itself.

MSU Shooting - A Parent's Perspective

February 13th, 2023  was just a regular Monday evening.  I was working on homework with my daughter when I received an unusual text alert.  It read: “MSU:  Active Violence situation on/near MSU campus. Secure-in-place or evacuate safely.  Run, Hide, Fight.”

At first, I kind of dismissed it.  I figured it was another realtor with a great cash offer to buy my home.  But then… I read it again.

My oldest child Max is a freshman at Michigan State University (MSU).  I vaguely recall signing up for MSU Safety alerts back in the fall when he was moving into his new dorm. As I glanced at phone, another text message came through.

This one read: “MSU Police report shots fired incident occurring on or near the East Lansing campus. Secure-in-place immediately. Run, Hide, Fight”.

My stomach sank.  I quickly texted my son to see if he received the message.  Luckily, he replied right away.  Yeah, he responded, we get those all the time.

I quickly called him.  “What do you mean you get these all the time?” 

“There’s always something going on around campus” he shrugged.

“But it says there’s an active shooter ON CAMPUS!”  I said, trying to stay calm.  “Are you in your dorm room?”

“We’re in the dorm lobby right now, but heading that way.  We were just told to go directly to our room and lock the door.”

“Good”,  I replied, again trying not to yell (too loud),  “Hurry up!  Go straight to your dorm room and let me know when you get there!  I’m so sorry you are going through this!” I added, trying to sound more supportive than frantic.

Like any parent, all I wanted to do was protect my child, but I live in Columbus, Ohio, and MSU is over 250 miles away.  I felt terrified and helpless! 

To be fair, I’m a 53-year-old woman with no formal weapons training, so there’s probably not much I could have done, but I still felt powerless. 

About 15 minutes later, after I had paced the entire house, he texted back.  I’m in my friend’s dorm room, he said.  We’re all locked in here together.  The RA told us to move the dresser in front of the door.

My first instinct was to tell him to go to his own room, but I reasoned that it was better to be trapped inside with the support of his friends.

He told me they were listening to the local police scanner for updates, and he would send me the link.

I quickly tuned into the live broadcast.  I could hear panic and fear in the voices of the young officers.  The first on the scene were probably campus police and local East Lansing officers certainly not prepared for something this monumental!

What an impossibly traumatic situation.  They called out different buildings and halls around campus.  They checked the University President’s home, and that was clear.  The dispatcher was frantically reporting new 911 reports of shots fired, and suspicious activity, as the officers were breathlessly running and reporting their status.

At first the information was helpful, but then came the misinformation.  They say that in such a tragic situation, our mind plays tricks on us.  We see and hear things that might not really exist.  Calls came in reporting that up to four shooters had been spotted.  Shots were heard all over campus.  There were even reports of explosive sounds.

As the dispatcher relayed reports of shots fired near more and more buildings, I held my breath waiting to hear the name of Max’s building.  I pulled up the MSU map to see if the shots were close.  The campus is huge, I tried to reassure myself. 

But then I heard the call of shots reported near Hubbard Hall.  That’s where Max lives!  Immediately I picked up the phone to call, but then decided to text. Better to stay silent. 

Max said they heard the report and had moved into the bathroom of the suite.  I wasn’t exactly following the logic there, but I didn’t argue.

Students received instructions to ignore any fire alarms, as they could be a ruse to get students to run outside.  They were urged to stay as quiet as possible, and to not open the door for anyone – even if they claimed to be police.

After about 20 unbearable minutes, we heard the officers on the scanner confirm that Hubbard Hall was clear.  Thankfully, the report was not true.

I was glad that Max had his friends there for support, so I resisted the urge to keep calling and texting.  We settled on an “I’m safe” text every 30 minutes or so.

After a few hours, I had to turn off the scanner.  It was just adding to my anxiety.  At one point, I thought that I heard gun shots in the background.  All the misinformation and rumors were making it worse.

I turned to social media for more information, which I should have known would be a mistake.  Pictures of multiple shooters marching with assault rifles were posted.  Profiles of alleged suspects popped up.  Video of students running and screaming were painful to watch!

By this time, news was getting out to the national media.  I started getting calls and texts from nervous family and friends across the country.  My dad called from Florida and an aunt from California.  All I could tell them was that Max was safe and locked inside his dorm.

Around 11:30, Max finally texted me the news we had all been waiting for.  One shooter was identified and confirmed dead.  The police had found him hiding.  As they approached him, he took his own life. 

The police were also starting to believe that there was only one shooter, which brought some relief, but they still recommended all students remain sheltered in place.

Finally, about 12:30 am, Max texted me that they were given all clear.  By this time, FBI agents were on the scene.  They had concluded that there was just the one lone shooter, and he was no longer a threat.

After hiding in their dorm room for over four hours, Max and his friends could finally exhale, move the furniture away from their doors, and try to get to bed.  I’m sure they were all exhausted but got very little sleep.    

The next morning, the story dominated the news.  There were three students dead, and five severely injured.  The shooter was identified as a 43-year-old male with no direct ties to the university.

The University cancelled classes for the week, so Max was able to come home for several days.   I ‘ve never been so happy to see him!  Friends and family showered him with concern and support.

It’s now been a few weeks since the tragedy.  Three students have been buried.  Two of the injured have been upgraded to stable, and three of the victims remain in critical condition.

Police and the FBI are still looking for motives… and answers.  Why did this happen?  Why are so many of these tragic events happening in our country?  How can we get this to stop? 

In fact, we are ALL furiously searching for answers, and explanations…and most importantly, solutions.  If only it were that simple.

Buried Under the Leaves

The mature, majestic trees rank among my favorite things about my neighborhood.

They bloom with beautiful color in the spring and provide refreshing shade in the summer.

They even provide stunning colors for a few weeks in September and October.

From there, though, it’s all downhill.

I’m talking about the endless piles of fallen leaves, which gives give new meaning to the phrase buried alive.

In our yard, the leaves start to fall after Labor Day — and they don’t stop until almost Christmas. (When we rake late in the year, we have to take care not to get tangled in the holiday lights.)

Couldn’t these trees reach an agreement about when to unleash their leaves? Must they spread our misery over three months?

The maples want to let go early, the oak tree prefers to wait awhile, and so on

Must be poor communication.

At least lawn companies benefit from the many leaves. When the crews descend on our neighborhood, they sound It sounds like an angry swarm of bees — as if the mowers and weed trimmers of summer weren’t loud enough. They strap on those giant blowers and attack like a team of Ghost Busters.

My two children used to love jumping into the giant piles of leaves — but only for maybe an hour, as leaves struggle to compete with the electronics of today.

They’d rather watch a funny You Tube or Tik Tok video of other people jumping in the leaves.

My dogs love to roll in the leaves, but then they itch and scratch until their skin is raw.. It’s obvious to me that they are allergic, but they don’t see the connection. Another reason to clean up the leaves as quickly as possible.

In my neighborhood (UA), the leaves are enormous! I bet our community has some of the biggest (and heaviest) leaves in Central Ohio. Where’s the award for that? We could have a contest. Bexley, Clintonville, Grandview, Olde Town, Worthington, etc. could all show up with their prize winning leaf.

We are lucky enough to have a trusty curbside leaf service. Somehow, though, the trucks always seem to come collecting on my street the day before we rake.

Consequently, we gather our leaves into a big pile, then wait days on end for the truck to return — cringing at every gust of wind threatening to scatter our effort back across the yard.

I started raking this year in mid-September. Those must have been the competitive leaves — the ones that always need to be first.

Now we’re almost into November and the yard is buried. My strategy of doing a little bit at a time isn’t working. I spend what feels like several hours cleaning up the yard, then watch as a strong wind or even rain blows through and erases all my work.

As we get to the end of the raking season, I head out with confidence thinking , surely this is the last time I’ll have to rake. I’ve gotten them all.

But then I look up and see the lazy leaves, the procrastinators, who will fall down when they’re good and ready.

Well played leaves, well played.

Power Outage Anxiety

This year, (2022), homes across Columbus and Ohio were hit with a days long power outage. While my home was spared, I have many friends who spent the hottest days of the summer without air or lights. It reminded me of a piece I wrote ten years ago for the Columbus Dispatch when our house was one of the unlucky ones. Is this going to happen every 10 years?

Like every year before it, 2012 will be recalled for many things by many people.

My daughter will remember it as the year she started kindergarten.

For my son, it will stand out as the year he was finally old enough to play tackle football (although he has been tackling his younger sister for years).

My husband will undoubtedly savor it as the year that the Buckeyes went 12-0 but couldn’t play in a bowl game.

I will think of it as the year of “black Friday” — the night the lights went out (and stayed out) in Columbus.

On June 29, thousands of residents lost power - and suffered through the brutal heat for up to a week.

Though miserable at the time, you’re probably over the pain by now.

I’m not: Six months have passed, and I continue to struggle with power-outage anxiety (clinically known, I think, as POA).

Ever since those dark days, I tense up at the sound of a weather alert.

Anytime a storm blows through, I sit with my face pressed to the window.

Superstorm Sandy gave me horrible nightmares. I’m terrified we’ll lose our power again.

I barely survived the outage of 2012. With our electricity out for six full days — no lights, no television, no Internet, no air conditioning — I was in a terrible mood the entire week. (My husband will confirm as much.)

I tried to change my attitude.

I sat down (by candlelight) to list 10 positive things about the outage. The first three on my list:

-- Not receiving political phone calls, because the phone can’t ring.

-- Anticipating a lower July electric bill.

-- Fueling the economy by eating out most meals.

Even those positives, though, were cynical in tone.

Many people might think I’m spoiled. They’re right: Though not proud of it, I am an electricity addict.

I can’t be the only one who deals with such issues. Would anyone be interested in a support group?

I realized how soft I am when I stopped to check on a neighbor, Ann, who celebrated her 90th birthday this year and lives alone. I asked her how she was managing, and she told me she had set up a sleeping bag in the basement and just cooked a hot dog over a Sterno flame.

By the second day without power, I was stalking American Electric Power. Having programmed the outage hot line into my speed dial, I called at least a dozen times to report that our power was out. Whenever I saw an AEP truck, I trailed it to see where it was working.

On day five, I gave up keeping the food in coolers. Ice melts pretty fast when the room temperature hovers at 99 degrees. Then I cleaned up the multicolored Popsicles that had melted in the freezer.

Day six was my 43rd birthday — punishment enough.

With the power still out, I was abandoning all hope just as AEP trucks arrived in my neighborhood.

I went to greet the crew members, offering them warm cans of soft drinks (they declined).

They told me they were based in Los Angeles. They also told me about the wives and children they had left behind to come help us.

Once our power finally returned, I literally jumped for joy. (I think it frightened the kids).

Then I added the power crew to our Christmas-card list.

The holiday season has proved a wonderful distraction, as my wounds are slowly starting to heal.

With winter storms inevitably on the horizon, however, I must continue working on my electricity issues.

The first step, as always, is admitting I have a problem.

Andra Gillum, 43, lives in Upper Arlington.

'Tis the Season to be Stuffy

Spring is in full bloom.  The trees are budding, the flowers are blooming, the birds are singing, and the lawns are a lush green.  Meanwhile, the noses are stuffy or running, the eyes are watering, the people are sneezing, and the noses are a bright red.  It’s allergy season! 

You know you have seasonal allergies when you find a wadded up tissue in the pocket of every single jacket and sweatshirt and you own.

My sister and I use to make fun of my grandma for keeping tissues in the sleeve of her sweater.  The other day, I stopped myself from doing the exact same thing!

You also know you suffer from allergies if your nose doesn’t just run…it drips.

I never had allergies as a kid.  Lucky I guess.  It wasn’t until I was an adult that I started to show symptoms. I’m a late bloomer I guess.   It started out as headaches across my nose and under my eyes.   I went to see my regular doctor who put me through a battery of tests.  Apparently headaches are a red flag.  Eventually I was diagnosed with sinus headaches. 

I was referred to an allergy specialist.  To determine what I was allergic to, he pricked my back with what felt like a thousand little needles.  Good news!  They discovered what triggers my allergies.  Bad news!  I am allergic to grass, trees, mold and dust.  There went the “avoid the allergens” strategy.

I decided that I didn’t want to live in a bubble, so we started to talk about treatment.  Do you realize how many allergy medicines are on the market?  Prescription, over-the-counter, antihistamine, decongestant, expectorant, nasal sprays, 12 hour, extended release and on and on…

We started working our way through the meds.  First I tried several antihistamines:  Claritin, Allegra, Zyrtec.  They all made me the dreaded cotton mouth.  That made me drink a ton of liquids, which made have to go to the bathroom even more often than I usually do!  Vicious cycle.

Next I tried something called a Netti Pot.  It looks a little like genie’s magic lamp.  You fill it with a mixture of salt and warm water, and then pour it into your sinuses to rinse out the allergens.  The formula goes up one side of your nose, and comes pouring out the other.  It’s all very sophisticated.

My problem was that a lot of that mixture apparently stayed inside my sinuses.  Imagine my surprise a few hours later when I was at work, and I reached down to pick up something.  A blast of water came literally flowing out of my nose!  Not my proudest moment.

Maybe I should have just rubbed genie’s bottle and wished for my allergies to disappear. 

I have since found a saline spray that is much easier to use.

Eventually, we also found a prescription nasal spray that seems to help.  But as anyone with allergies knows, there’s really nothing that helps completely.  It’s just something we learn to live with.

One thing I miss the most is opening the windows in the house and rolling down the windows in the car!  When I drive by my neighbor’s house with all the windows wide open on a sunny spring day, I can’t help but feel a little window envy.  Seeing someone in a convertible nearly puts me over the edge!

We keep the windows closed and the tissues stocked at our house.  You know it’s a problem when you buy the bulk three pack of jumbo sized tissue boxes at Target…but you wish they sold something larger.

So to all my allergy brethren this spring.  Here’s to watery eyes, itchy throats, stuffy heads, runny noses, coughing, hacking, sniffing and snorting!  I feel your pain.

Elf Anxiety

If I may be vulnerable for a moment, I’d like to confess that I suffer from elf anxiety.  I am actually in recovery now as my kids are both teenagers, but for years I struggled with the seasonal disorder.  I’m now in the PTSD phase, but in the spirit of recovery I’d like to share a piece I wrote a few years ago when I was right in the thick of it.

Columbus, OH  2016   Every year just after Thanksgiving, I look forward to unpacking all our Christmas decorations.  I  pull out the boxes, and the kids and I would put everything in its proper place.  However, there was one holiday decoration I wished I could leave in the bottom of the box.

The Elf on the Shelf really triggers my anxiety.  I hate to admit it, but this little guy really knows how to push my buttons.

As I said, I love almost everything about Christmas.  From the decorations to the lights to the music and traditions, I l really do love it all.   It’s just that darned Elf and his enormous expectations!!

It’s not that I dislike elves in general.  The movie Elf is a classic.  I love that Buddy the Elf and his Pop-tart pasta with syrup.  And how could you not root for the little misfits: Herbie the dentist and his friend Rudolph?

It’s only the Elf on the Shelf who stresses me out!  The holiday season is busy enough, and the pressure he adds just pushes me over the top.  I feel judged!

Every night, I’m expected to come up with some clever thing to do with the Elf, or some funny place to put him.  There are photos and ideas on Pinterest and all over the web about it.

Somehow, I’ve gotten on an email list that sends me ideas an inspiration for my elf.  When they suggested that I soak the elf’s feet in a bath of marshmallows and call it a spa day, I decided that I’d rather leave the elf on his shelf and have my own spa day.

My kids show me You Tube videos of all the clever things those other elves do.  Someone’s naughty elf actually wrapped their entire Christmas tree in holiday paper.  I’m lucky to get all the gifts wrapped.  Never mind ribbons and bows.

Then there’s the Elf Shaming.  My daughter comes home from school with stories of all the silly and clever things that her friends’ elves did.  She tells me that she doesn’t feel like our elf’s antics are worthy of sharing.  Am I being judged or is it classic mom guilt?

Plus, the pressure lasts the entire month of December! That means 24 nights of anxiety.  24 days of trying to think of something new and different. 

There have been nights when I have finally climbed into my warm bed after an evening of wrapping gifts.  I’m half asleep when I am jolted awake by the realizations that I have forgotten to do anything with the elf.

I’m certain that I am not the only one with elf-anxiety.  A friend posted a funny picture on You Tube of an elf wearing a full leg cast.  He left a note for the children saying that he wouldn’t be able to move from the shelf for 2-3 weeks.  That’s one smart mom. 

I hate to come across as a Grinch because I really do love Christmas, and all the fun traditions for our kids.  Maybe we can just shorten the elf’s visit from the North Pole?  How about a nice, 3-day weekend?  Who’s with me?

I mean no offense to any Elf lovers out there.  I applaud your enthusiasm and perseverance.  We’ll just have to agree to disagree.

So, whether you love the Elf…or count down the days to his departure, I wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! 

Andra Gillum is the author of the children’s books Doggy Drama, Puppy Drama, Old Doggy Drama and Lost Doggy Drama.  Learn more or order online at www.doggydrama.com.  Like us on Facebook at: www.facebook.com/doggydrama.  

If you work for a school or know of one who would be interested in an author visit, please contact Andra at andrag@wowway.com.  Follow Andra on Twitter @GillumAndra

It's A Dog's Life

There’s an old expression that refers to “living a dog’s life”.  Dating back to the 16th century, it refers to leading a miserable, unhappy life.  While this expression may have been true long ago, things have clearly changed since then.  These days, most dogs lead a charmed life that most of us would love to have!

When I was growing up in the early 80s, we had a little white dog named Buttons.  Despite what my kids think, this was well after the 16th century.  By then, things were much better for dogs, but nothing compared to today!

We loved Buttons and treated her well.  She had a nice life, and rarely complained. But then again, she had no idea how things would improve over the next 30 years!

Buttons didn’t have any clothes.  No sweaters, no booties, and no rain jacket to keep her dry.  The only accessory she had was a white plastic flea collar which she wore during the summer.

These days there are holiday sweaters, quilted vests and fan apparel for your dog’s favorite team.  At Halloween, you can dress up your dogs as a pirate, a taco or even Yoda!   I’ve never seen a dog who looked particularly thrilled to be wearing a costume. It’s the owners who seem highly amused – especially when they have a matching costume.

Buttons ate plain old dog Chow that we bought at the grocery store.  There were two choices: Dog Chow and Puppy Clow.  These days, there are hundreds of brands and lines of dog food made with fish, chicken, beef, tofu, you name it!  There are varieties for sensitive stomachs, itchy skin, senior dogs, overweight dogs, big dogs, little dogs.

You will find these endless choices at the grocery store, but also huge stores dedicated only to dogs and cats!  Here you’ll find treats for picky eaters, games for hyper pets, bones for aggressive chewers, and beds for dogs with bad backs.  You’ll find ointments, specialty shampoos and conditioners and even meat flavored toothpaste.

Speaking of dental care, the other day I drove by a new Dog Dental practice.  Really? We certainly never worried about Buttons’ oral hygiene.  Do the offer orthodontics as well, or just basic cleaning and whitening?  I wonder if any dog might be a candidate for Invisalign or a gold tooth?

We also never worried about Buttons getting bored or needing to improve her social skills.  When no one was home, she stayed by herself.  We never hired a dog sitter or dog walker.

When we went out of town, she stayed at our vet’s office.  There were no doggy day cares, or dog camps or pet hotels. 

There was certainly not Puppy Kindergarten, or Dog School or K9 Academy.  Buttons had no diploma, but that was ok.

We used to get Buttons groomed every now and then.  Usually at Christmas time, plus any time or she rolled in goose poop or a patch of burrs.

These days they have salons and even spas for dogs.   Dog washing and grooming has been re-branded.  Now you can add a specialty shampoo or a blow-out.  How about a nail trim and file?  I’m sure you could request color for an added fee.  How about a massage for your stressed or overworked dog or maybe a facial for those under eye bags?

Speaking of dogs and work, there’s another expression that refers to “working like a dog”.  This implies that you have been working long and hard.  Granted, some dogs do work hard.  We love therapy dogs, guide dogs, service dogs and police and military dogs.

My two dogs, however, are happily unemployed.  They do gobble up all the food and crumbs that we drop on the floor.  Who needs a Roomba?  But they also gather under my feet when I’m preparing any sort of food.  I’ve accidentally kicked, tripped over and stepped on them, but they still shadow my every move waiting for anything to drop!

Other than that, our dogs pretty much sleep on the couch or in the sun all day long.  When we’re outside, they’ll occasionally chase a squirrel or dig a hole, but usually right through the flowers.

In terms of a good work/life balance, my dogs have figured it out!

Over the years, things have certainly gotten better for dogs.  The old saying “It’s a dog’s life” does not apply, unless you’re suggesting that someone is living like royalty.  These days, most royals envy the life of dogs.

Speaking of the royal family, the Queen of England recently launched her own line of dog accessories featuring engraved leather collars and leashes, jeweled food bowls, and tartan patterned hunting jackets. Now every dog can live and look like a royal.  Come to think of it, I guess they already do. 

Big Sisters

Just like Lucy, I have a wonderful big sister. Her name is Lisa, and she has literally saved my life more than once! Here’s the story.

When I was 3 years old, I fell backwards into the deep end of my grandparents’ pool.  My 7-year-old sister is the only one who heard the splash.  She dove in and saved me from drowning.

When I was 5 years old, I jumped from the attic of a neighbor’s garage.  I mistakenly thought I could land in the driver’s seat of the convertible parked inside.  Instead, I landed head first on the concrete floor.  My 9-year-old sister came running down the street when she heard the ambulance roar by.  She says she knew it was for me. 

I was unconscious and throwing up pink.  The paramedics were alarmed that it might be blood.  My sister explained that it was probably because of the frosted strawberry pop tarts I’d eaten for breakfast.

My mom was at the Ohio State football game.  That was before cell phones and even pagers.  They had to page her over the stadium loudspeaker.  “Please call Children’s Hospital immediately”.  Every mother’s nightmare.

I was rushed to Children’s Hospital where I eventually recovered.  Many days later, I finally got to go home.  My sister let me sleep in her bed so I could be closer to mom.

When I was 9 years old, my sister and I went sledding with the neighbors.  We lived along the river, so my sister set up a blockade so we wouldn’t sled into the icy water.  Instead, I sledded head first into the large stone fireplace.  Like any head injury, the blood was everywhere.  My 13-year-old sister somehow carried me up the hill to our house and my mom.  We left a long bright red trail in the snow.

We raced to the emergency room where I received 18 stitches to my head.  I remember a very long needle, and a very long afternoon at the ER. 

Once we finally got back home, my sister went out in the dark with a flashlight.  She searched in the white snow for the white tooth that I had knocked loose.  She knew it was only a baby tooth, but she still searched.

These stories illustrate not only how incredibly accident prone I was as a child.  Frankly, I still am.  Far more importantly, they tell the story of my amazing big sister, Lisa.

Over thirty years later, the accidents have thankfully declined.  I still manage some crazy injuries (mowing over a hornet’s nest a few summers ago comes to mind), but I don’t require medical attention quite as often.  However, I  still need my sister just as much. 

Being a big sister is a tough and often thankless job.  Lisa was always there for me when I was sick, or hurt, or frightened.   I probably never properly thanked her.  In fact, I remember actually complaining when she saved me from drowning.  Apparently she scratched my stomach on the cement as she hoisted me out of the deep end.

I also recall one morning on the bus ride to school when I realized that I had forgotten my lunch money.  I was only in first or second grade, but I vividly remember my sister handing me the money she had brought for lunch.   I do not remember wondering what poor Lisa would eat that day.

Big sisters carry a lot of weight on their shoulders.  They are like a mom to their younger siblings.  They are the worriers, the responsible ones, the good example that needs to be set. 

Plus, they stand by and watch as their younger siblings get more stuff, get away with a lot more things, and require more attention than they ever did.

My sister has a birthday coming up.  That reminds me that I do not thank her enough for all that she does, and I could never thank her enough for all that she has done. 

Sweet Lisa, you are an exceptional big sister and I am blessed to have you.  Thank you for saving my life, sacrificing for me, and always having my back!  Happy Birthday. You are the best!

P.S.  I owe you a lunch.

The Summer of Zoom

Before Covid 19, I’d never even heard of Zoom.  I’d heard zoom used as a verb.  The car zoomed around the corner.  I vaguely remember a PBS show called Zoom with a bunch of dancing 70’s teens.  I even remember a song in the 1980s by called “Who’s Zoomin Who?” All due “respect” to Aretha Franklin, but it wasn’t one of her best songs.  What did it even mean?  Fish jumped off the hook?

Anyway, it wasn’t until 2020 that I heard of Zoom as a noun.  For anyone who doesn’t know, Zoom is a virtual meeting app for computers and devices.  It allows large or small groups to meet virtually and share ideas. 

A live video feed of each participant who logs into the meeting is appears on a grid.  The first time I saw the screen, I was reminded of a cross between the old game show Hollywood Squares and the intro to the Brady Bunch. 

The first time I saw my own face on the grid, I wondered why it had to be so close-up.  I tried to “zoom” out but apparently that’s not an option.  Dear Zoom programmers, I know you are all probably 21 years old, but take it from me, No one over 45 wants to watch a close-up video of themselves for an hour or more. 

As soon as schools shut down last spring, my kids started having Zoom meeting with their teachers and counselors.  Some teachers used Zoom to teach virtual classes.  My kids would sit in front of their iPad and interact with their teacher and classmates.  One day, just for fun, I walked in front of the camera and “Zoom Bombed” my daughter’s 7th grade class.  She didn’t think it was funny. 

The first time I used Zoom was as a member of my daughter’s school PTO board.  It was all adults, so everyone took turns speaking and listening.  We didn’t have many events to discuss since everything had been cancelled, so it was pretty quick and easy.

But then I was hired by a local school district to teach a summer creative writing course for Kindergarten and first graders.  I often teach writing classes to kids, but they have always been in person.  This would be my first-time leading ad teaching with Zoom.  How different could it be?

I wasn’t too worried because my PTO experience had been fairly simple, but of course, those were not 6 and 7-year olds!  The moment class began, and 20 little faces appeared on my screen, I realized that I had a few things to learn…and I better do it fast!

The first class was about pets, so I posed the question: Who has a dog or cat?  I expected a show of hands, but suddenly they all disappeared from the screen.  Had I offended them in some way?  Were they bored with me already? 

No, they had all gone to grab their pet so they could show me.  Gradually, about 15 different types of animals appeared on screen.  Some weren’t too happy to be drug away form whatever they were doing.

Next, I had to learn the art of the “mute all” feature.  With adults, the screen highlights each speaker as they take turns talking.  Participants can mute their mic when they are listening and enable their audio when they have something to say.  With little kids, no one takes turns talking and they always have something to say!  Kids don’t mute themselves virtually any more than they do in person!

My daughter showed me how I, as the host, could select “mute all” on my computer.  This allowed me to read and speak to them without their random comments, or their baby brother in the background, or the sound of their laser gun. 

I instructed them to raise their hand, and then I could unmute one at a time.   I tried to always let them finish their thoughts before I re-muted them, but there may have been a few loquacious exceptions.   

The problem with “mute all” is that the lesson is far less interactive.  When I read and teach, I try to make things fun and encourage laughter.  My books are silly and are meant to be laughed at.  But I couldn’t hear or even see any reaction.  I never knew for sure if they were enjoying the story.  For all I knew, they had moved into the kitchen for a snack and I was reading aloud to myself.

My next challenge was the “shared screen” feature which allows the host to share a file or document with the whole group.   As a children’s author, I began each class by reading and sharing one of my books directly onto the kids’ screen.   Little did I know, all members of the zoom meeting are able to “annotate” or write directly onto the shared screen for all to see.

Imagine what fun the kids had with me when they realized that they could scribble right onto the pages of my book!  “Who did that?” I teased on the first page which just fueled the giggles and scribbles on every. Single. Page.

After the class, I learned how to disable annotations. 

Every parent knows that 6 and 7-year olds do not have a very long attention span.  Of course they get fidgety after sitting for a while.  In a live class, this means bouncing, or tapping pencils or chatting with their friend.  In Zoom class, that means opening their mouth as wide as they can right into the camera or pointing the zoom right up their nose.  I’ve learned to suppress my laughter, so I don’t encourage them! 

One day I called upon a student named Alexia.  “What do you think, Alexia” I asked.  My Alexa machine replied that it prefers to answer factual questions. Oops.  Luckily there was no one named Siri in my classes.

My summer sessions with the younger kids ends in a few weeks.  Now I have begun teaching via Zoom to 4-6th graders.  They are much better at listening and taking turns.  This last class, it was my dog who wouldn’t stop barking at the mailman.  The best part was when a few of the students’ dogs at home started barking back!

Zoom is a handy tool during Covid, but I definitely prefer live interaction with the kids.  I’m willing to bet that 99% of teachers would agree. We have all survived the Spring and Summer of Zoom, but please wear your masks, stay away from large groups and do your part to end this pandemic. 

If not, Zoom coders, I urge you to add a few filters to the camera feature… or at least the ability to zoom out!  I don’t need to see every wrinkle and pore on my face!

Save the Snow Day

Earlier this month, kids across central Ohio woke up to those two magic words: Snow Day!  Older kids rolled over and went back to sleep.  The younger kids jumped out of bed to get an early start on the outdoor fun!

But now I hear that the snow day might be in jeopardy of extinction!  In fact, Campbell’s Soup has gone as far as to launch a new campaign called “Save the Snow Day”.  I haven’t seen any picket signs yet, but there’s definitely a petition  Here’s the situation:

Zoom and other online technologies have shown schools that maybe they don’t need to cancel classes because of bad weather.  If the weather is too bad to go out, kids can just learn from home that day.  In other words, no more snow days!

Of course, my children, like most kids throughout the Midwest are devastated by this injustice.  Snow days are an American tradition.  For decades, kids have endured the long weeks of winters by clinging to the  possibility of a snow day.  The slim chance for a snow day has kept kids learning through the long months of January and February for as long as I can remember.

The moment the weatherman mentions snow in the forecast, kids start their scheming.  Rituals like sleeping with spoons under their pillow, and wearing pajamas backwards were all supposed to help ensure a good snow fall.  I learned about the spoon ritual the hard way when one morning, all of my spoons disappeared.  Cereal is hard to eat with a fork.

Some kids swear that a blue crayon is the freezer is the key, while others flush ice cubes down the toilet hoping to freeze and burst the pipes.  I’m not sure how frozen pipes at our house would affect the school building, but I won’t judge.

I remember wishing for snow days when I was a kid.  I’d wake up early and flip on my alarm clock radio.  In those days, the radio was the only way to know whether school was cancelled in our district.  You better make sure you don’t miss the announcement.  I vaguely remember waiting at the bus stop for at least 45 minutes until it dawned on me.  The kids gleefully running past me with their sleds might have tipped me off.

Snow days always meant sledding.  My sister and I would squirm into our one-piece snowsuits and pull on our rubber boots (or plastic bags in a pinch). Then we’d fight over who had to haul the 20-pound toboggan to the sledding hill.  We always wanted to get to there early before the snow was worn down to mud.

Kids still love sledding, but the lightweight, aerodynamic sleds practically haul themselves back up the hill.  Where’s the fun in that?

Snowmen also remain popular, but the accessories have all changed.  We only have baby carrots in the fridge, and the gas grill doesn’t require coal.  A corn cob pipe would be nearly impossible to find.  Maybe Frosty can smoke a Juul.

Despite the changes,  snow days are the best.  I’d hate to see kids lose the excitement of pressing their faces against the window before they go to bed or waking up in the middle of  the night to peek out the window.  The sheer possibility is what makes the snow day so exciting.

Plus, wouldn’t we rather see kids outside in the fresh air playing and laughing, instead of sitting in front of a screen all day?

It’s nice that Campbell’s soup is interested in saving the snow day, but I question their motives.  I’m guessing that it has something to do with  kids taking a break to warm up with a bowl of soup.  Maybe Swiss Miss should join the fight.

Either way, I’m glad someone is taking a stand.  If you’re so inclined, go to their website and sign the petition. If nothing else, you’re  guaranteed a barrage of texts, pop-up ads and emails from Campbell’s products…and their entire family of brands.

RIP Sweet Riley

Our dog Riley was born over 16 years ago.  At just 6 weeks old, we brought this sweet West Highland terrier into our hearts and our home.  I had no idea how much she would change my life.

Riley was our first “child”, so she got all our attention.  My husband and I showered her with treats and long walks and even a birthday burger from Wendy’s. 

Life was perfect for sweet Riley until about a year later.  That’s when my son was born.  Suddenly, he got all the attention and toys and treats. 

Of course, we loved Riley just as much.  We were just too busy with the baby to give Riley the long walks she once got, or spend our Saturdays at the pet store.

After a few years, things were settling back into place.  Now we were all taking nice long walks together, and the baby was dropping plenty of food onto the floor! 

That’s when our daughter was born, and poor Riley’s world was rocked once again!

More time passed and things got better, but as our daughter got older, she started asking (ok, begging) for a puppy.  She was convinced that Riley needed a friend.

She was obviously quite persuasive, because it wasn’t long before we brought home a new puppy.  Little Lucy was adorable, but also a little crazy!  She followed Riley everywhere and got into all her stuff!

They fought like any two sisters.  They both wanted the best toy, or the bigger treat, or the most attention.  The reminded me of my kids!

As Lucy got older, I watched as Riley tried to assert her dominance.  She was definitely the “bossy big sister” of the family. 

Riley was definitely the boss of things, but as she grew older, she started to show signs of her age.   She couldn’t walk as far and needed lots of rest.  She started to lose her hearing and then her vision. 

It broke my heart to watch our feisty, energetic Riley grow old.   As I watched Riley start to decline, I loved how she was still a happy dog.  She still wagged her tail, got excited, sniffed around the yard, and ate anything in sight. 

I knew she wouldn’t live much longer, but I wanted to enjoy her as much as we could.  I struggled with whether I should put her down.  I didn’t want her to suffer, but I also didn’t want her to go before it was her time.

Then one day awful last fall, Riley went missing.  We noticed the back gate was ajar.  We started an intense search to find her.  We enlisted friends, neighbors and family.  We posted on Pet FBI and Facebook.  We made signs and called the shelters and police. 

For weeks, we continued the search.  Our house backs up to a park and a wooded area, so the search became harder as more leaves fell.

After about a month, I knew that Riley could not have survived that long on her own.  I’d heard stories of animals who wander away to die peacefully.  Like the brave dog in the movie Marley and Me, I am convinced that Riley went away to die. 

She must have sensed how I was struggling to decide what to do.  She didn’t want us to watch her suffer, or to find her dead so she made sure we wouldn’t find her.  What an amazing and brave thing to do. 

I don’t think it’s possible to imagine how hard it is to lose a pet until you’ve gone through it yourself.  Some people might say “she was just a dog”, but my fellow animal lovers know that she was far more than that.

To anyone who has ever lost a beloved friend, I am so sorry for your loss.  Don’t let anyone tell you that you’re overreacting, or you shouldn’t be so upset.  They simply don’t understand the joy of a best friend wrapped in a soft, furry blanket. 

Lost Doggy Drama is the story of our hero Riley, and the sad day she wandered away. It’s a happy book about a sad thing, and a great book for anyone who has ever lost a beloved friend.

Andra Reads Doggy Drama

Stuck inside and can’t get to the library or the bookstore? Why not back and enjoy the story of Doggy Drama. Click below to see my You Tube video.

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Facebook For Real

Facebook is a great place to catch up with old friends and stay in touch with new ones.  It’s always fun to see pictures, watch kids grow and share in adventures. 

But when a friend of mine recently posted “Facebook is so hard when you’re depressed” it made me stop and think.

If an outsider were to glance at my Facebook feed, they would be amazed at how happy all of my friends are.  We post pictures of all the happy and wonderful moments of our life, but we never mention real life.

What if we created a web-site called Facebook For Real.  Facebook will still be the place for all the blissful, happy moments, but For Real is where we will post about the rest of our lives.  In other words, most every day.

On Facebook, we’ll post pictures of ourselves at the airport, sitting in their plane awaiting a fun adventure!

On For Real, we’ll describe the multiple flight delays and the 4-year-old who was sitting behind us kicking our seat the entire flight.

On Instagram, we’ll post pictures of our amazing vacation to the beach with the sunshine and sandcastles!

On For Real, we’ll mention the second-degree sunburn, and two solid days of rain that had our family of six stuck in the hotel room.

On FB, we’ll post about how we jumped out of bed at 6:00 am that morning for an invigorating 3-mile run.

On FR, we’ll describe how we hit the snooze button 10 times until was too late to go for a run…and we’re not sorry.

On Instagram, you’ll see pictures of the delicious and healthy meal that we lovingly prepared for our family.

On Insta For Real, you’ll see the burned grilled cheese we made for our son because he hates healthy food.

On Facebook, we share photos of our beautiful new babies, and all their wonderful milestones!

On For Real, we’ll post a picture of our sleepy selves at the 3:00 am feeding, and the spit up that’s been dribbled down our back all day.

On Facebook, we post about our team’s great achievement at work, and tag our company and co-workers.

On For Real, we describe the day we called in sick because we were coughing up thick green mucus, and our kid had diarrhea.

Or the co-worker who stops into our office and talks for an hour straight about people we don’t know.

On Instagram, we’ll post all the great photos and flattering selfies or ourselves when we look our best!

On For Real, we’ll post the deleted shots with our eyes are closed, or our wrinkles showing, or that less than flattering bikini.

On Facebook, we’ll write about our fun shopping adventure to the mall, and all the great things we found.

On For Real, we’ll about our who threw a tantrum in the toy aisle, and how we had to drag him out under one arm as he kicked and screamed!

Or the credit card statement that arrives the next month with all the impulse buys you forgot you made!

It’s human nature to post the good times, the happy times and all that we are proud of.  I’m just as guilty as anyone else.

But it’s human to have regular days bad days, and I want to stay in bed days.

If you’re feeling down or depressed, I’d suggest you stay away from social media.  It will make you feel like you’re the only one who is struggling.  The rest of us are all on exotic vacations, attending fun concerts, or celebrating our kids perfect report card.

And keep your chin up!  Rest assured, we all have good days and bad; ups and down; joy and sorrow.  And chances are, at one point or another within the last month or so, we have all been just as miserable as you!

Tony and the Christmas Socks

Twenty something years ago, I was fresh out of college and working my first office job.  I had a co-worker and friend named Tony who made work much more fun. 

One day around Christmas, I sat down at the conference table with several co-workers, including Tony.   Someone noticed my festive red candy cane socks.  I told them how my mom bought me a pair of Christmas socks every year!  Even when I was away in college, she would mail me a new pair.  I laughed as I told them the gesture was very thoughtful, but how many pair of Christmas socks does one girl need?  I mean, you really only have a small window of time to wear them.  December is OK, but January is a little silly.  Christmas socks in May or June is downright odd. 

We had a fun conversation about ugly Christmas sweaters, Christmas socks Clark Griswold.   Then we all got back to work, and I never gave it another thought.

That is until that Christmas when Tony and I exchanged gifts.  I opened my gift bag to find, you guessed it, a new pair of Christmas socks!  Typical Tony - He always had a great sense of humor and a wonderful, hearty laugh!

In fact, one year we all went to a comedy club.  After several jokes, and Tony’s boisterous laugh, the comedian actually stopped the show to thank Tony.  He said that he wished Tony and his encouraging laugh could be at all his shows!

Anyway, as I opened the gift, Tony reminded me of the story I shared about my mom and her Christmas sock tradition.  We laughed knowing that the pressure was on.  Now I would have to rotate two new pairs of socks into my December wardrobe.

A year passed.  The following December 1st, I started to dig into my collection of Christmas socks and laughed when I found Tony’s pair among them. 

I think I may have even worn that pair on the day of our office Christmas party.  Again, Tony and I exchanged gifts.  I unwrapped my gift to find yet another pair of Christmas socks!  I realized that Tony was not letting this go. 

For the next five or six more holidays, that Tony and I worked together, I received a new pair of Christmas socks!  Each year, he found a new, unique pair to add to my collection!  Knee socks, crew socks, slippers even Christmas footies.

The next year, my first child was born, so I left my full-time job working with Tony.  We still kept in touch, but naturally drifted apart.  Like most people, we got caught up in our own lives and lost touch.

That is, until the next Christmas when I received a mysterious package in the mail.  The return address said S. Claus, The North Pole.  Hmmm?  I didn’t hear anything ticking or see any white powder residue, so I cautiously opened the package.

Inside the padded envelope I discovered another new pair of Christmas socks.  There was no note or gift tag, but I knew exactly who they were from!

And then every year that followed, I received the same package in the mail.  It was always addressed from the North Pole or Chrsitmastown – depending on the year.  Every package contained a new pair of Christmas socks.  They seemed to get sillier each year.  There were elf socks, Christmas trees, Mrs. Claus and Santa on the beach, and even a pair of T-Rex Santas.

A few years later, Tony left the company where we first met.  There was nothing left to connect us except, apparenty, the Christmas socks! 

This Christmas marks over 20 years since I shared the story of my mom and the Christmas socks.  It’s been a tough year for Tony.  His father passed away just a few months ago after a battle with cancer.

This is the year I figured Tony would finally forget, or decide to let the tradition go.   He had more important things to deal with, and he had certainly made his point!

But of course, the package arrived again just a few days ago.  Right on schedule was my padded envelope from S. Claus filled with a festive pair of Christmas socks.  This year’s pair feature a holiday Llama and say Falalala Llama!

Thank you, Tony, for a giant drawer full of Christmas socks.  But more importantly, thank you for making me laugh every December for over 20 years!  You are my very own Santa Claus.  Hmmm, maybe there is something about that jolly laugh of yours.

Merry Christmas my friend!  May you never lose your wonderful sense of humor!

Riley & Lucy Share Their Favorite Books

Riley and Lucy are west-highland terriers. Like most dogs, they love to take walks, chase squirrels, eat bones and, of course, read.  They especially enjoy picture books.

The #PB 10 for 10 challenge to teachers, librarians and book lovers everywhere to share a list of their 10 favorite picture books of the year.   When Riley and Lucy heard about the PB 10 for1 0 challenge, they couldn’t resist offering a list of their favorites.  After all, wouldn’t it be nice to hear a dog’s perspective? 

The deadline for this challenge was early August, so Riley and Lucy are a little late to the game.  They are dogs though, so what do you expect?  Not only did they have trouble agreeing upon all their selections, their dog paws make it difficult to use the keyboard.  For that reason, they asked me, their owner, to help with the typing. 

Now what you may not know about our dogs, is that they are the stars of a series of picture books.  Of course, these three books are their very favorites!  Riley and Lucy agree that a little bit of shameless self-promotion is OK, if it doesn’t harm anyone else.

Therefore, the top three books in their 10 for 10 list are:

1. Doggy Drama by Andra Gillum

2. Puppy Drama by Andra Gillum

3. Old Doggy Drama by Andra Gillum

They quibbled for some time over the order of the top three, but finally decided to compromise.  Their list of favorites is in no particular order. 

All three books are based on the real-life adventures of Riley and Lucy.  They deal with real life issues like sibling rivalry, jealousy, coping with change and getting older.  The best part is that they deliver their message in a very silly way.  Kids will giggle at all three of these books!

Riley and Lucy love books about animals, and all forms of personification, so here are a few other favorites:

1. Little Pea – Amy Krouse Rosenthal

2. The Adventures of Knuffle Bunny – Mo Willems (The dogs got into a bit of a spat over how to pronounce Knuffle.  Is it K-nuffle or Nuffle?)

3. Are You My Mother?  - PD Eastman (They love the snort!)

4. Sheep On A Ship – Nancy Shaw

5. The Family Book – Todd Parr

6. My Mom – Anthony Brown (I may have strongly suggested this one.)

7. DOG – Matthew VanFleet (obviously.)

In fairness, the dogs do like many books by Dr. Seuss.  However, they intentionally left him off their list in protest of the Cat In the Hat series.  Who ever heard of a six-foot cat anyway? 

We hope you have enjoyed Riley and Lucy’s top 10 list!  It you want to learn more about the dogs and their books, please visit www.doggydrama.com.  If you want to meet me, their owner, mom, storyteller and typist, please contact me at andra@doggydrama.  I love to make school visits!

In closing, Riley and Lucy want to encourage all kids, dogs, adults and even cats to read, read, read!  From picture books, to graphic novels, to biographies, to newspapers and magazines, to fiction and non-fiction, there is something for everyone.  The trick to loving to read is reading what you love!  #PB10for10  #ReadingRocks  #DoggyDrama

Who Stole Summer?

I woke up last night in the middle of a bad dream.  It was just August 14th, but school was back in session, and the pool was closed for the winter!

The first day of school is August 14h.  Seriously?  I double checked to make sure there was no mistake.  What happened to the good old days when we started after Labor Day?  Who decided that mid-August was the new September?

I asked around and got several different stories.  Someone suggested they want the school districts to follow the college schedule.  That makes no sense.  Who wants to be in Florida on Spring Break when the college students are there?  I have no desire to compete in a belly flop competition, or set sail on a fraternity booze cruise.

The school district said they took a survey, and the majority wanted an early start.  I know the kids and teachers don’t want this, and most parents I speak with don’t either.  At first I thought it must be the older generation who  wanted the pool to themselves.  Can’t blame them.  They just want to do a little water aerobics in peace…without the whistles blowing.  But now, the pools are closed too!  Foiled again!

The most likely reason I’ve heard blames the early start on the standardized testing in the spring.  Schools need to pack in as much curriculum as they can before the testing period. Thanks again, Common Core.

I’m glad school didn’t start this early when I was a kid.  I would have been awfully hot wearing the new Firenza sweater and Gloria Vanderbilt jeans that my mom bought me when we went school shopping.  My Member’s Only jacket would have been a little better, but still warm. 

My kids wear shorts for the first six weeks of school.  Actually, my son wears shorts for the entire year.  He’s a 9th grader now, and I gave up that battle years ago.

So many things about back to school have changed.  Now we buy school supplies through the PTO, and they’re delivered right to class.  That’s actually helpful.  No more running around searching for the box of crayons with the built in sharpener, the wide-ruled spiral notebook, or the newest Trapper Keeper.

What about textbooks?   We used to haul around an armful of them, all carefully covered with a brown grocery bag.  I could never figure out how to cut the bag right, but we managed.   Then, we added our best graffiti.  My older sister always had the Van Halen logo on her books.  I think mine had the MTV logo and probably something about Duran Duran.

Now kids get MacBooks and iPads instead of books.   Nobody is covering those in brown grocery bags.  First of all, grocery bags are plastic now.  Secondly, that paper wouldn’t provide much protection when kids drop their device on the ground.  I’m pretty sure the screen would still shatter.  The “optional” laptop insurance coverage is the new book cover.

How about the lockers?   They still use those same old combination locks.  Is it left, right left, or right, left right?  Shouldn’t there be something digital by now?  After all, they now sell entire lines of designer locker accessories and supplies.  Who wouldn’t want a locker chandelier?  Can’t we all agree that is a little over the top, especially if dad has to stop by school to run the electricity.

Of course, no matter when school begins, kids and parents will always dread the start of early mornings, driving here and there, traffic jams and especially homework!  This year will be my first attempt to drop off and pick up at the high school, so I’m looking forward to that.  Why don’t we have busing to the high school again?

Welcome back to school to all students, teachers and staff.  Ready or not, here it comes!

By the way, good news!  I read that the Ohio legislature is trying to pass a law that prohibits schools from staring before Labor Day.  Apparently, they are looking out for the tourism industry. 

While I like the idea of a late start, I get concerned when politicians get involved in something they know nothing about.  But don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll fix this issue just like they do everything else.  Ugh!

Are Warning Labels Insulting?

Is it just me or do warning labels insult our intelligence?

I was pumping gas one day and noticed the warning sign above the pump.  It seemed reasonable at first.  Stop Engine.  No Smoking.  But then I came to: Never Siphon by Mouth.  Does that really need to be stated?  Are we stupid?

On my Panera coffee cup, it warned me that The Beverage you are About to Enjoy may be Hot.  Wait, are you saying that coffee is hot?  Who knew?

Hot beverages warrant a stern warning, but what about cold food and drink?  I’ve never seen a warning printed on a Popsicle or a milkshake.  What would it read?  Beware of Brain Freeze.

The lawyers must be to blame.   I was using some hand sanitizer the other day.  Thank goodness I read the warning label that explained it was:  For external use only.  I was just about to take a drink.

Even our beach ball, a seemingly harmless object, carries a warning label:  This is not a Life Saving Device.  I guess that’s why I never see them hanging from the lifeguard chairs. 

Cigarettes are known for their warning labels.  Tobacco is one product that deserves a harsh warning, but its label says something blasé about how the Surgeon General thinks smoking is a bad idea.

In Europe, they don’t mess around.  Their cigarettes say: Smoking Kills. 

The best cigarette warning I have seen was on a bumper sticker. It read:  Warning I just quit smoking.

On the front of my kids’ toothpaste is SpongeBob.  On the back it says: Warning: Keep out of the Reach of Children.  Frankly, it’s harder to get my kids to brush their teeth when they can’t reach the toothpaste. 

As I was cleaning our windows, I noticed that even the screen carries a warning: Screen will not Stop Child from Falling out of Window.  Really?   That explains why there’s no screened in porch on top of the Sears Tower.

Perhaps my favorite warning label of all is the one I noticed when I was flying.  It was written on the barf bag that they keep in the front pocket of the seat in front of you.  The bag is labeled: For Motion Discomfort which I suppose is helpful for new flyers.  But then it goes a step further to caution: Do not place in seat back after use. 

 Does that mean someone actually placed their used vomit bag back into the seat pocket?  How else would they even come up with that?  Did another guy really try to siphon gasoline with his mouth?

I guess we aren’t quite as smart as I thought.  Maybe humans need a warning label: Caution. I might do something stupid.   My teenager could definitely use one.   

I don't really find warning labels to be insulting, but they are amusing.  In any case , let’s be careful out there.  The world is a dangerous place. 

Whose Chairs Are These?

By:  Andra Gillum

Upper Arlington (UA) is  a wonderful suburban community outside of Columbus, Ohio.

To those of us who have lived in Upper Arlington for more than a few years, the sudden appearance of lawn chairs along Northwest Boulevard in mid to late June doesn’t surprise us a bit.  We don’t even look twice.

Of course, these chairs have been placed along the parade route well in advance of the 4th of July parade.  There’s caution tape, roped off areas, benches, chairs even a few couches.  No big deal.

But for those who are new to UA, and don’t yet understand the enormity of this July 4th tradition, I wonder what goes through their head.  Do they think that the Pope is coming?  Or maybe the President?  I wonder if they would cause such a stir?

Every year, the chairs appear earlier and earlier.  People used to set out their chairs a day or two before the parade.  Then someone dared secure their spot on June 30th, and the whole game changed.  Mid-June now seems to be fair game.  It reminds me of Christmas displays in stores.  They used to go up before Thanksgiving, then it was right before Halloween.  Now, they’re looking at a Labor Day start to the holiday season.

But who has the right to secure a spot?  Is it the property owner?  Do they get entire section in front of their house?  Can they give permission to friends to use their space?  Maybe it’s an open seating platform. Anyone can use their property as long as they’re first to rope it off. 

People who live in Florida and California pay a high premium for beachfront property.  Here in UA, we pay a premium for parade front property.  Realtors tout that as a huge selling feature along with granite counter tops and hardwood floors.

So, if people are paying top dollar for this red-hot real estate, shouldn’t they have first dibs for parade seating?  At the least, they shouldn’t have other people leaving stuff in their yard for several weeks without paying a storage fee.  What happens when they need to mow the lawn?  Kind of a pain to move everything.  Are they obligated to put everything back exactly as they found it?  That’s a lot of pressure.

What about the area in front of banks and other businesses?  Is this their space to reserve for customers or is it fair game?  Is there some “Open a new CD and get 4 seats along the parade route” promotion that I don’t know about?  If you prefer McDonalds, can you sit in front of Wendy’s?

I really don’t know the answer to any these questions, but I fear they have led to some major arguments.  I know the UA police ask that residents wait until as close to the 4th as possible to set out their chairs, but we are obviously ignoring that advice.  I guess they’re given up.

They just hope that people remain civil and dignified with each other.  We are celebrating a wonderful holiday and a great country, so let’s try to embrace the spirit.

Personally, we’ve never set out chairs before the parade.  We usually just head for the end of the parade route and get as close as possible or try to score an invitation to celebrate at one of the  parade-front homes.  These elaborate parties are another story, so we’ll save that for the next blog.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I love the UA 4th of July parade and celebration.  What a wonderful and fun family tradition.  And I really have no opinion on what the proper pre-parade chair etiquette is.

I was just thinking to myself how utterly outrageous this all must seem to anyone new to UA.  They have a few rules to learn about Columbus and Upper Arlington, but I’m sure they’ll figure it all out quickly. 

Next month, they’ll face Buckeye Football mania which you truly must see to believe.  A few months after that, they’ll try to register their kids to visit Santa at Christmas in the Park, only to learn that they should have set their alarm for 5:00 a.m. 

We could publish a handbook, but it’s more fun to watch them figure it out themselves.  That’s the way it’s always been, and who are we to break tradition?

Happy Independence Day everyone!  Enjoy the parade from wherever you sit.