Help, I’m Shrinking!

Anyone notice that these days we’re paying more and getting less? What the heck? While this happened sneakily before the pandemic, it’s been out of control since the supply chain disruptions that occurred when the pandemic began. The big corporations decided to use that excuse to not only raise prices, but keep them high once everything settled down. And to add insult to injury, they continue to reduce the amount of product in whatever container they’re in and charge us more for less! This is what President Biden was talking about in his State of the Union speech, calling out Big Business about shrinkflation. It doesn’t matter which side of the aisle you’re on politically, this is basically highway robbery by these greedy corporations where too much is never enough. And we’re all paying the price.

The 20-pound bag of dog food that my pups love used to cost approximately $20. There is no longer a 20-pound bag, the closest size is 16.5 pounds. And even then, guess what? While it’s 3 1/2 fewer pounds, it now costs approximately $30! Imagine the profits – I’m sure the CEOs are rubbing their hands together in glee.

A 64-ounce bottle of the vegetable juice I have bought for years used to cost around $3.50. While the size has remained the same, for the past few years the price has risen to approximately $4.50 with no sign of going back down.

Take a look at some of your favorite foods. The sneaky way they get you if they haven’t raised the price is shrinking the size of the box, bag, or can that your food comes in. It may look the same, but there’s a sneaky trick that keeps you from noticing unless you check the total amount in the package and compare it to what it used to be. Check your chips, cereal, cookies, and crackers. You might have noticed the food disappears more quickly and think you must be eating more. But very possibly, it’s that there is actually less food in that container.

My rant right now is based on a can of string beans. While this isn’t exactly shrinkflation unless it was done purposely, and I have no idea if it was, it’s still an example of what can happen if we don’t pay attention to disappearing products. My vet suggested that since my dog Jax is not as fit and trim as he was a year ago and needs to return to his boyish figure, that I cut down on his actual dog food and add some veggies to the mix. My pups have already been getting pumpkin mixed in with their food, so I decided to also add string beans to their meals. Jax and Lacey have been thrilled with the new addition and gobble down their food with gusto. Not that they didn’t have gusto before, but I can see their enthusiasm for their meals has ramped up even more. I recently bought several cans of string beans, went to open a new can and drain the liquid out. I pressed the top down onto what I thought would be the veggies, but as I pushed lower into the can, all I was feeling was liquid. I looked into the can and saw that the string beans were barely reaching the halfway mark in the can and it was pure liquid above the measly few string beans near the bottom.  I opened another can to make sure this was an aberration, and was relieved to find that the other can had a bountiful supply of string beans almost to the top. Imagine if I had only bought one can. Or someone else had bought that can and thought that’s all they were going to get. I will be contacting the manufacturer and the store where I bought them for a refund. But I began to wonder, how often does this happen? And are there people who will think this is just another sign of shrinkflation?

I think it’s time we speak up about this. Corporate greed is running rampant and I think it’s time the manufacturers know that we’re fed up with paying more and getting less. Let them know that we’ve had enough and we’re not going to take it anymore. And say it with gusto!

Copyright Nancy Machlis Rechtman, all rights reserved

The Islands are Calling

One of the reasons I have stayed in the Deep South all these years (the top reason has been my wonderful friends) has been the climate – and I’m not referring to the political one. I do not handle the cold well. I went to college in upstate New York for reasons I still cannot fathom since winter meant snow up to my chin, howling winds, and along with my day classes there were a few night classes when I had to wait for a bus to take us back to the dorms when within a few minutes I could no longer move my lips or crack a smile. As soon as I graduated, I set out for warmer climes. After watching the Rose Bowl Parade every year, seeing everyone in shorts and T-shirts, I began to wonder what I was doing in the frozen tundra and I decided to make Los Angeles my home. It was a perfect move for me back then as I felt my heart and soul finally defrost. And to top it off, one year, one of my best friends and I actually went to the Rose Bowl Parade, camping out all night in our folding chairs on the sidewalk on the parade route, and it was the thrill of a lifetime. And no winter coats were necessary.

So waking up this morning to temperatures barely in the 30s (I know that many other places in the country would be thrilled with those temps, but again, this is the Deep South where the homes are barely insulated and no one knows how to drive if there’s any frozen precipitation) with dire predictions that over the next few weeks the temperature will drop into the 20s and then the teens and possibly single digits, a drumbeat of panic began to sound! Will I need to move even further south soon?

When I can’t feel my fingers and I can’t feel my toes, that’s when the call of any tropical island reaches out to me. Even my puppies found it too cold to frolic this morning when we were outside. (And as a side note, when I say puppies, these are two senior dogs that I rescued over the past two years, but they will always be puppies to me.) When I was working in the kitchen I turned around and found them snuggled on the same mat right next to my chair. There are about six mats and eight dog beds throughout the house for two dogs so that we’re always prepared for a puppy party, so it was unusual for them both to be snuggling on the same mat. I don’t know whether it was love or shared body heat. But either way, it was adorable. If there had been enough room, I would have joined them.

I hope you all stay warm and always have someone (including a pet) to snuggle with to keep you warm. I will try to remember this next time I’m about to complain about the unbearable heat in the dog days of summer when it’s over 100 degrees every day. Right now, the islands are calling.

Copyright Nancy Machlis Rechtman, all rights reserved

Be the Light

Do you know anyone who loves changing the clocks so that it’s dark at 4:30 in the afternoon? Add to that the piercing cold and it’s no wonder depression is rampant this time of year. We are like plants needing water and sunlight to survive and we don’t grow or function well without them.

Think of the two major religious holidays that usually occur within a few weeks of the shortest day of the year – Christmas and Hanukkah. Aside from the presents and delicious food, they both bring light to us in the darkest of times, figuratively and literally. The beautiful lights of the Christmas trees are always celebrated and admired, while in Jewish homes, the menorahs are lit for eight nights to celebrate the miracle of the oil. We need and seek the light in our lives.

And currently, in our world, we feel a darkness, a hopelessness, overtaking so many of us. The world seems to be spinning out of control on so many fronts. Politically, environmentally, economically, health-wise, and personally. Many say they cannot remember having such dark times in their lifetime. It’s very frightening for so many of us.

We notice that many people are shutting down, becoming more withdrawn, ruder, angrier, less willing to reach out and accept people who are different than us. That affects the rest of us in negative ways, no matter how hard we try not to let that negativity suck us in.

Where is Mr. Rogers when we need him?

I’m not even saying that facetiously, I mean it. He was the epitome of kindness, the opposite of these negative traits. He taught many of us as we grew up about the virtues of the Golden Rule – Do unto others as you would have others do unto you. This maxim is featured prominently in almost every religion in one form or another. It is said in different ways, different languages, but it all comes down to treat others the way you want to be treated. It sounds so simple, but it seems to be so difficult for so many these days. The anger seems to be winning out over the kindness and empathy we need to survive as a society.

Why are we allowing the anger and incivility to win? That’s an awful way to live. We may not have a choice or power over other people’s actions, but how we react is up to us. We are in desperate need of kindness and love these days. Let’s remind ourselves about the Golden Rule and smile when we think of Mr. Rogers. And if we find ourselves drowning in the darkness, let’s reach out and be the light not only for ourselves but a lifeline for others who are drowning as well. We are all in desperate need of the light these days.

Copyright Nancy Machlis Rechtman, all rights reserved

The Incredibly Amazing and Magical Flying Chair

Guess what! If you have a child in your life who loves to read middle-grade books, loves magic, is fascinated by history and faraway places, have I got a book for you! “The Incredibly Amazing and Magical Flying Chair” is out! I wrote it with my dear friend and sometimes writing partner, Bob Shumaker over the past two years, we’ve published it through AuthorHouse, and after a lot of blood, sweat, and tears, it is out in the world! There is a paperback and a Kindle edition. And the fabulous cover design was done by dear pal Maura Boenitz Morgan!

Here is part of the summary:

Noah Gibson comes from a family that has magic in their blood. He is also an overly imaginative seventh grader whose magician father has mysteriously disappeared. The only clue Noah has to his father’s sudden departure is a magical reading chair in the attic. Noah believes the chair has the power to transport the person sitting in it anywhere they wish, but he has trouble convincing his friends and family.

The book is available online on Amazon in paperback and on Kindle, Barnes & Noble, AuthorHouse.com, and many other sites.

I hope you’ll want to read it – or buy it for the child in your life. If you have any questions, I’ll be happy to answer them! And if you do read it, and especially if you love it, please leave a review on Amazon!

Here are a few links:

https://www.amazon.com/Incred…/dp/B0CG6PSKWZ/ref=sr_1_1…

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1143964839…

https://www.authorhouse.com/en/bookstore/bookdetails/852679-the-incredibly-amazing-and-magical-flying-chair

Copyright Nancy Machlis Rechtman, all rights reserved

Say It Now

My personal essay, “Say It Now” was recently published in the new issue of Down in the Dirt magazine. It’s been a long road to publication, written almost a year ago, accepted for publication months ago, and now it has finally entered the world! It was initially inspired by the meme about how we shouldn’t wait until people’s funerals to say all the wonderful things we feel about them and how much they mean to us. We should let them know how important they are to us while they’re alive. I feel that it’s such an important subject to think about and discuss that I’m posting the full essay below, and also providing a link to Down in the Dirt magazine if you’d like to see more.

Say It Now

by Nancy Machlis Rechtman

A few months ago, several of my friends decided that I should apply for an open position in the arts in our city. They believed I had all the qualifications and prior experience that made me a perfect fit for this position. I was very touched that they had such faith in me, but I was sure others were way more qualified. But in an example of positive peer pressure, so many people piled onto the necessity of convincing me that I at least take a chance and apply, I finally agreed.

The application process was lengthy and detailed. Among the many requirements were two letters of recommendation from people who could vouch for my qualifications for this position and extol my virtues. It’s not often that you get to see an honest reflection of yourself in someone else’s eyes, but these two recommendations touched me to the core. There was nothing false or overly flowery in their writing, but referenced what these friends felt were my strengths, my contributions to the community, and their strong belief that I would be the perfect person for this position.

How often do we really see the good that others see in us? We usually get compliments when we do something outstanding, or on days when we look particularly good, or if we’ve won an award of some kind. But in the daily struggle to get through a sea of self-doubt, wondering if we’ve done the right thing, agonizing over choices we have or haven’t made, what’s the ratio of self-flagellation to a boost in our self-esteem? We tend to focus on the bad messages we internalize about ourselves. Are we smart enough, kind enough, productive enough? And the biggest one that triggers self-doubt for so many of us: Are we beautiful enough? Why would anyone choose to love us if we have no worth? Or at least not enough worth when compared to the person standing right next to us? What have we done in this world to be proud of? To be looked up to? To say we’ve made a difference?

There’s a meme I’ve seen online recently saying something like the things that we say about someone at their funeral should also be what we tell them on their birthday. That we should not just wish people a happy birthday and say we love them, but we should tell them why we love them. What value they have brought to our lives and how much poorer our lives would be without them.

My parents died within a year and a half of each other. When my mom died, one of the most difficult things I had ever done was composing her eulogy through a veil of tears. It was one of several that were given at her funeral. I focused not only all the good deeds she had done over the years, but what she had taught me as I grew up about kindness and living by your values. About not being afraid to speak out when witnessing someone being wronged. To donate to charity and be a giving person in every aspect of your life. And so much more. And later I thought about how much I hoped she could hear our words, because although I always told her I loved her, I wasn’t sure I had ever expressed my gratitude at her teaching me by example what makes a good person, a woman of valor, which she definitely was.

When my dad died the following year, I also wrote about the lessons he had taught me on honesty and loyalty and standing up for people. In that department, I had been doubly blessed by two parents who had taught such important life lessons. Again, several of us read eulogies that day. But my eulogy was shorter than the one for my mom, because I had asked his friends and relatives to write down their favorite or most impactful memory of my dad so I could read it at the funeral along with my own words. And the stories I received were heart-warming and sometimes surprising to read, since much of what I read was new to me. And showed me things about my dad I had never known. And many of the memories made us all smile and even laugh that day. Truly a celebration of my father’s life. And again, how wonderful it would have been if my dad could have heard the way so many people thought of him and remembered him, and what an impact he had made on their lives. Although I like to believe he did hear it all and that it made him smile.

But why don’t we let people know how much they mean to us while we still can? What holds us back? Are we afraid we’ll make them uncomfortable? Or that we’ll be too vulnerable? Both options are kind of nuts, don’t you think? If someone is an important person in our life, shouldn’t we tell them why? Wouldn’t it be wonderful to hear that all the little things we do for each other are remembered and matter? And that they have sometimes been life-changing – or even lifesaving?

When COVID hijacked our lives back in 2020, I was on my own, as so many of us were. And I missed my friends and family desperately. Cell phones and the internet provided even more of a lifeline than ever. And I realized that I wanted to let each person know how important they were to me. Because they were, and it suddenly felt urgent for me to tell them. So I told them. And I sent presents with cards for no reason other than that was another way to express my gratitude for their love and for always being there through the good times and the bad. The cards expressed my sometimes-unspoken thoughts about our friendship and my appreciation for all they had done and often put up with when it came to all we had gone through over the years. And my love for the amazing people they were. And it mattered. Sometimes doing things “just because” can mean more than doing it because it’s a special occasion and we feel that’s what we should do.

Life is so short. We say it, but do we really understand that our time on this Earth is barely the blink of the eye? That we are but specks in the Universe? Why not make our time here more meaningful, form deeper connections, stop being so afraid of opening up? We need to realize we don’t need to wait to let people know they are of value, that they have made a difference. Because really, what are we actually waiting for?

And by the way, although I didn’t get the arts position – someone much more qualified and deserving than I was chosen – I did get the gift of hearing things from my two friends that I never would have known if not for the chance to actually read their words about me. And more gifts from the encouragement of so many other friends who convinced me I was deserving, even if I wasn’t chosen. And it helped me realize that while I may often question if I’ve made a difference, if my life has value, it meant everything to me to hear that there are people who believe I have made a difference and yes, my life does have value.

Our world has become more divisive and isolating than ever in recent years. Empathy and compassion are harder and harder to find. So many of us feel so alone without strong connections. I believe it would make such a difference in people’s lives to know their life has meaning and value and has impacted others in a positive way. And it especially helps to hear those words from other people, because self-validation is oh so difficult, and we seem to accept what we hear from others much more readily than what we should already know about ourselves.

Don’t wait for their funeral to say those loving words. Say them now. Wouldn’t that be the greatest gift we could ever give another person?

Here is the link:   http://scars.tv/dirt

Click on “See the Current Issue” then the Table of Contents should show up and the link to my essay is about 2/3 of the way down that page.

Copyright Nancy Machlis Rechtman, all rights reserved

Mother’s Day

Mother’s Day can be a wonderful day, or a day fraught with sadness and grief. There are also so many ways one can be a mother or take on the mother role – it doesn’t have to only mean via biology. And for those who have suffered devastating losses, you most likely don’t even want to hear all the cheery greetings that seem never ending and relentless when it feels like the rest of the world is celebrating. Self-care is so important when you need to grieve any kind of loss – you don’t have to feel like something must be wrong with you if you don’t want to celebrate. And if you do have reason to celebrate someone who is still in your life and has in some way taken on the mothering role, please, by all means, let them know what they mean to you. We all need to know we are loved and appreciated.

Two years ago, I wrote a poem called “The Letter.” It was published in May of 2021 by a literary magazine called Page & Spine which seems to be defunct and also doesn’t seem to have an online archive. For the past two years I have shared it on my Author Page on Facebook (Nancy Machlis Rechtman, Author). This year, I’d like to share it here as well. I hope you like it.

Wishing you all peace and love and finding some reason to smile.

 

The Letter

by Nancy Machlis Rechtman

 

I recognize the handwriting

On the crumpled, yellowed note immediately

Most likely written

With a blue Bic pen,

And my breathing stops.

 

It was stuffed in the back

Of the drawer that I was cleaning out

And that’s why I had forgotten

The words on the decades-old page.

But it might have helped

If I had found it seven years ago

Although just the fact that I’ve got it now

Means maybe this is when it was meant to be found

Because I have yet to figure out

How you celebrate Mother’s Day

Without your mother

Except maybe to read the words

On a letter that crosses time and space and a lifetime

About the little daily acts

That at the time seem like nothing

But now they are everything.

 

The tears are an unbidden deluge

Pounding through the rain gutters

Leaning against the house

Threatening to overflow into the yard next door.

 

I trace the curve of each letter with my index finger

Willing a connection to come through

As if maybe I can absorb the energy and essence

That was there when the letter was written

In the blue ink on the page.

And when I get to the end

When a mom assures her vulnerable daughter that she’s proud of her

And that she loves her always

The letter drops to the floor

As do I

And my heart is full

And my heart is empty

And I still don’t know what I’m supposed to do with this jagged hole that’s overtaken my life.

 

And then I hear the blare of the TV in the other room

Cheerfully reminding me to buy a card for my mother

To wish her a very happy Mother’s Day

And I know it’s a message

From my mom with her quirky sense of humor to make me smile

So I whisper something only she can hear

And I hope I made her smile, too.

 

 

Copyright Nancy Machlis Rechtman, all rights reserved

 

 

Stick ‘Em Up

So as most of you know by now, it seems that every time I travel, I come back with stories. And I just returned from an amazing trip up North which couldn’t have been more wonderful. My children’s play, “Threads – The Musical!” was produced for five performances in Pennsylvania and I had the privilege of attending one of the performances. I had the time of my life.

However, this post is not about my wonderful experience. This post is about highway robbery, figurative and literal.

Part One of this tale occurred when I was in the Charlotte airport with a three-hour layover on my way up north. I had an early flight and hadn’t eaten anything nor had I had anything to drink since I had left my house several hours earlier. I did have snacks with me, but I really wanted some water and a piece of fruit, preferably a banana. Since I had so much time between flights, I thought I’d stroll around the airport in search of sustenance. It seems counter to the natural order to be strolling through the airport when most people are frantically shoving their way past the hordes of other frantic travelers in hopes of not missing their plane since usually the gate where you land and the gate where you have to connect to for your next flight are miles apart and you only have 20 minutes to get there before they slam the door to the plane shut just as you approach.

So anyway, I strolled through the airport in search of an affordable bottle of water and a banana. The thing to remember in an airport is, there’s no competition. If a bottle of water is $3.95 in one place, that same bottle of water will be $3.95 everyplace so you might as well buy it in the first place you stop at. Now, finding a banana was a whole other story. Because it seemed impossible to find one in the little convenience stores that pop up every six feet throughout the airport. I didn’t want to sit in one of the “restaurants” there. I just wanted a simple piece of fruit. Finally, I found a place where you could buy bowls with yogurt and fruit. And in their display case must have been 80 bananas just sitting there, waiting for someone to ask for just one. And so I did. I waited on line and asked the cashier if she would sell me one banana.  I don’t eat dairy and I didn’t want a big bowl of fruit anyway, I just wanted a single piece of fruit that I might be convinced to pay a dollar for since I was at the airport after all. After waiting for several minutes, I approached the cashier who looked at me in confusion and told me they didn’t sell bananas. I stared at the 80 bananas in the display case and asked if she could just sell me one since I was very hungry, getting hungrier by the minute, and this shouldn’t have been so hard. She pointed across the way where there was a little alcove where you could choose your food and then put it on a scanner and pay for it, all without the benefit of having contact with another germy human being. She told me they sold bananas there. So I walked over to the shelves and guess what – there weren’t any bananas! There were drinks and sandwiches, but no bananas. So I walked back to the yogurt bowl place and told her there were no bananas and once again, asked if she would just let me have one of her 80 bananas and I’d give her a dollar for it. She shook her head but then handed me a banana. She said I could put it on the scanner across the way and pay for it there. I knew it was pointless to argue, so I thanked her and walked towards the scanners, noting that there were several people shaking their heads and waving their fists in the air, directing their wrath at the scanners.

“These aren’t working?” I asked as I approached.

The fellow travelers were so frustrated they sputtered, and no intelligible words actually came out of their mouths. They eventually stalked off with empty hands.

Just for the heck of it, I tried. I laid the banana on the scanner. Soon, the price appeared. But this couldn’t possibly be! $3.79 for ONE banana! Maybe it had mis-scanned. But no, the banana image had the word “Banana” right above it. Well, I have my principles even when I’m faint from hunger, so I trudged back to the cashier across the way, wordlessly handed her the banana, and left. Highway robbery right there in the light of day!

Part Two occurred when I left PA and headed to NY via bus where we were let off at the Port Authority and I walked the nine blocks to Penn Station, dragging my suitcase and dodging all the people who don’t look up from their phones as they navigate the sidewalks, and I was proud of myself for not knocking anyone over and not getting knocked over at the same time. Fancy footwork was involved. Because it was a Sunday, the Long Island Railroad trains were departing every hour. There is also a lot of interminable construction going on meaning everything I ever knew about Penn Station is no longer true or where it should be, but there are signs and they are accurate and I made it to the track that listed my destination. And when I got there, I saw that my train had left five minutes earlier and I now had nearly an hour to wait. There is no longer anywhere to sit or even browse near the tracks. I had had such an amazing night the night before and had been so wound up, I could barely sleep. So once again, I went in search of food and drink, taking the escalator upstairs. I walked in and out of the little eateries, once again frustrated with the prices. This time, I had eaten a little bit before I left PA, but even so, I was curious to see what was available and what it cost. Between being tired and shell-shocked at the prices, I wasn’t paying attention to things as much as I should have. So, as I walked out of what was probably the fourth place I had stopped, a young man approached me, standing way too close for comfort, and asked me for change.

I normally don’t carry change these days, and I was lugging around two personal items, plus dragging my suitcase, and I told him wearily that I was sorry, but I wasn’t carrying any change. And then, before I knew it, he jumped closer to me and said, “Stick ’em up!” He stuck his arms forward towards my stomach and I stared at him. A million thoughts raced through my mind at that moment, but the funny thing is, I wasn’t scared. My heart didn’t pound, my adrenaline didn’t pump through my veins, no fight or flight reaction. Instead, I looked down at his hands – which were balled up into fists with his pointer finger sticking out, but there was no gun, no knife, just empty hands. And he didn’t look scary. In fact, he now had a strange smile on his face. And the inanity of hearing someone say “Stick ’em up” like we were in an old heist movie almost made me laugh. I mean, who says that? I felt as if none of this was real, like he was playing a part and I was supposed to play along. So I just shook my head and told him I had to go. As I walked away, I heard him shout, “But what about last summer? You promised!” And then I had to wonder if he really was playing a part. Or maybe he was just crazy, or on drugs, or a student doing a sociology experiment, or all of the above. So as I continued to walk, I called back, “Sorry, but that never happened!” And I continued on my way, taking the escalator back downstairs to wait for my train with no further incident.

So I can’t really explain why my heart didn’t race, why there was no adrenaline, why I didn’t perceive him as a threat even before I saw he didn’t have a gun pointed at me. It just seemed so cinematic – an absurd scenario being played strictly for reaction. Of course, my gut reaction could have been wrong, but fortunately, it wasn’t. But for whatever the reason, I was more outraged by the figurative holdup I experienced at the airport by the corporate greed and indifference I encountered just trying to pay for a piece of fruit, than I was about this guy jumping out at me and claiming it was literally a holdup. Which of course, fortunately, it wasn’t. But I’ve told way more people the banana story than the story of the guy and the fake holdup. That was largely because I wanted this trip to be remembered for the wonderful and special things that happened, not anything even remotely distressing. Or nuts.

And in the end, both stories are bananas, that’s for sure!

 

 

 

Copyright Nancy Machlis Rechtman, all rights reserved

Blame It On Mercury

Did you ever have one of those months where everything you touch seems to go wrong? Or break? Or disappear? It’s taken me awhile to realize that it’s not just random misfortune. It all started in late December. And it looks like it might continue on for at least another week or two. So upon some extensive research (Google), I discovered that these dates align with Mercury being in retrograde.

What exactly does that mean and how worried do you need to be about chaos and mishaps overtaking your life? Mercury in retrograde is an optical illusion making it look like Mercury is moving backwards from what we can see here on Earth. And everything seems to go haywire here. There’s no actual chart for the range this might encompass, but at the very least, your life will be off kilter for a few weeks.

My first sign of this phenomenon was when my garage door broke in late December. Well, it didn’t exactly break, it just stopped working properly one day. Every time I tried to close it using the remote the garage door kept popping up again. I got out of the car. I searched for some kind of obstruction. I cleaned the sensor lens. I kicked leaves away. I jiggled the sensor. Nope. The garage just wouldn’t stay closed. Eventually, since I had plans to meet a friend, I had to manually close the garage and hope it would fix itself while I was gone. But when I returned, I was unable to get the opener back on the track which had never been a problem before, so in the end I had to call the garage door company to send someone over to repair it. A very nice gentleman was dispatched several days later and did some high-tech computer adjustments to the motor and voila, I had a working garage door again!

Next came the day I stopped at the mall when a bout of insanity overtook me during the busiest shopping week of the year. Reality hit me pretty quickly and I soon left. And my car wouldn’t start. I tried a few times and decided to give it a rest. Just as I started to release the key, the car started. It bucked a few times as I carefully made my way out of the parking lot. It was a few more seconds until the four yellow warning lights on the dashboard got my attention, but when they did, I didn’t know whether to just stop in the middle of the road, try to make it home on a wing and a prayer, or head directly to the mechanic. At a red light I quickly called one of the repair places I have relied on over the years and they said it sounded like the engine warning light was on but as long as it wasn’t flashing, I should head home and check with them in the morning to see if they could look at my car in the near future, but they couldn’t guarantee they could see me then either since they were overworked and understaffed. I made it home and called another mechanic, sending them a picture of my dashboard. They said to bring it in the next morning. I headed out the next morning and when I turned the key, there were only two lights on, which I hoped was a good sign until the check engine light started flashing. I called the mechanic, knowing what they would say. Yep, I needed to get it towed to them. So I did, and miraculously, the tow truck showed up ten minutes after I called! Never in the history of my life has that happened, but of course I was safely home, not in the middle of a highway with cars and trucks whizzing by me within inches of my life. I was very grateful for their promptness. It turned out it was my starter which had been replaced years ago, but the repair place had not used the factory-specific starter the maker of my car recommends, and that meant it was sending out wrong messages to the computer in my car which caused everything to eventually go bonkers. It took a day, but it was all good and I gratefully got my car back.

Then came the toilet and shower that no longer worked in the bathroom in my bedroom. Still not working great, but thankfully, I have another bathroom. This week, the kitchen faucet has started to leak, but I have temporarily found a way to close it if I toggle it back and forth to the side just enough, so for now, that will do. More little things have broken or stopped working or vanished into thin air this past week, but they’re too minor to bring up except for the fact that they all fit this pattern.

So Mercury, we’re looking forward to you finding your way back on track again, optical illusion or not. It’s good to shake things up sometimes, but we have had several years of being shaken. And as we try to adjust to the possibilities of the new year, our jangled nerves need a break. Please, take pity on us, we really really need a break.

Copyright Nancy Machlis Rechtman, all rights reserved

Ups and Downs

First, I’d like to wish everyone a happy, healthy 2023. May it harken the arrival of all good things into all of our lives and sweep away the detritus of 2022 and whatever damaged our lives in the years before it. I’m not going to get into the really heavy things today since I do despair on a daily basis about the political situation in our country, the horrors going on in the world, climate change, and anything else that can possibly cause me to stay in bed all day with the covers over my head. But since it’s the first day of the new year, I’m going to focus instead on the more minor annoyances that fill our lives with gritted teeth and fists shaken at the sky.

I know we’ve all been complaining about the lack of civility in our society. And while I don’t think it was ever as civil as we claim it was in the good old days, it does seem to have gotten worse. Of course, the internet has been pivotal in allowing people who don’t even know each other to hide behind the screen of anonymity or fake identities to curse each other out, bully each other, insult each other, spew false information, and more, all in the name of free speech. The thing is, this kind of behavior is flowing over into the real world as well and this is the world our children are growing up in. This is what they’re seeing is acceptable behavior and don’t think they’re not absorbing it. Or there’s just not a sense of caring how their behavior might be affecting others. The world has become centered around each one of us in a bubble of self-absorption.

One small example is a trip that I just took with a friend to explore a new city for a few days. We rented a lovely condo through VRBO in the heart of the city. It all seemed perfect. Until it sounded like a herd of elephants above us. Clomp, clomp, clomp. Slam. Bang. Clunk. On repeat for hours. I promise you, I’m not exaggerating. This went on until about midnight. And then started up again around 7 AM. Since we spent the next day exploring the city, we don’t know if this went on all day as well, but all would be quiet for a few hours and then start up again around dinnertime and continue until late at night. Since people are crazy these days, we decided against bashing a broomstick into the ceiling or knocking on their door, so we just made do. I don’t function too well on a 7 AM wake-up time, especially on vacation, so it was pretty frustrating. On the morning of the third day, not only was there the usual clomping and clunking, but a new sound of things being dragged across the floor. Suitcases? Didn’t sound like dead bodies at least. Were they leaving? Oh please, let them be leaving. Soon all was quiet, and we hoped against hope they had left. A few hours later came the sound of a vacuum. Yes! They were gone. And then several hours later we heard the sound of several people seemingly racing back and forth across the floor. Without end. But the tread wasn’t as heavy, so these were presumably children running with boots on for hours across the room with no one even thinking to say at the very least, maybe you should take your clunky boots off if you’re going to run for hours on a bare floor on top of someone’s head in the condo below? They, too, were early risers so 7:00 AM was now the official wake-up time. Fortunately for us, we were heading home later that morning so, as much as I loved this trip, I have never been more thrilled to return to my quiet house. Now, I’ve lived in apartments over the years and have never been thrilled with bare floors and thin walls. And people were never especially considerate of their neighbors. But it just seemed that right in the middle of the holiday season with everyone spouting Peace On Earth, and Good Will to All, it might have made a dent in someone’s consciousness.

And on a totally different thread on annoyance, I have a question about what is happening to the things we buy in the grocery store. First, just the price of goods like the juice I buy for me or the dog food I buy for my pups. Yes, we had shortages for various reasons for a while, but things are supposedly more normal at this point. Why have the prices remained $1 more for my juice and approximately $7 more for the large bag of dog food I buy on a regular basis? And then, have you noticed how everything is shrinking? So a roll toilet paper is very obviously narrower than it used to be, there are about 6 pounds less in the bag of dog food that I’m paying $7 more for, and then some containers of food that hasn’t gone up in price look the same until you look at the weight and realize you’re getting less than before. And to add insult to injury, a few weeks ago I realized that the paper bags at the grocery store were about three inches shorter than they had been since basically forever. What’s the point of that? They have to use more bags now to load the groceries since so much less can fit in them!

I could go on and on, but I think we are all aware of the aggravating things that are spiking our blood pressure these days, along with the really scary stuff. So to end on a happy note, there is good in the world and there are many people focusing on kindness and doing good for each other. Let’s try to be those people this year and see if we can do our part to make it a better world for us all. Here’s to 2023 – let us all be the ones who work on making someone’s life easier, bring smiles to people’s faces, and set the example for how people should treat each other.

Here’s to 2023 being the year of kindness for us all.

Copyright Nancy Machlis Rechtman, all rights reserved

You Talkin’ To Me?

My best stories seem to come from when I travel.  There’s something about flying, especially these days, that just invites some kind of craziness in one form or another. These little vignettes are from a few days ago when I was out on the West Coast to visit my daughter and her family. It was a wonderful visit, but since the first part of the trip had been uneventful, it was pretty much guaranteed that the return trip would have at least a few glitches. Thankfully, none of them were major, but they always add spice.

If you know me, you know that me having to use any kind of equipment that involves technology starts my heart racing, and not in a good way. I arrived at the airport about 2 1/2 hours before my flight was supposed to leave – I was taking the red eye and didn’t want to take any chance of hitting traffic or encountering snaking airport lines that might cause me to miss my flight since it was obviously the last flight of the day. But we hit little traffic for a change and the line at the counter was almost nonexistent. What a pleasant and unexpected surprise! I did have a bag to check in since I had been gone for over a week and the weather was far from balmy, so I had several sweaters and jeans with me plus a bunch of presents and other clothing and a carry-on wasn’t going to suffice. I got on the surprisingly short line, and the agent at the counter looked up. “Oh,” she said, like it was a shock to find someone waiting her turn on the line. “I’m going to be awhile with this gentleman, so you need to go to a kiosk and print your tag for your suitcase and your boarding pass if you need to. Then you need to bring your bag over there…” She waved her hand to a vague and nebulous part of the airport and then went back to ignoring me. This is a huge airport in a major city. How did this airline only have one person working the counter, even if it was at night?

I stared at the agent for a moment and muttering to myself that I absolutely did not want to do any of this, but I obediently trudged over to one of the kiosks, my bag in tow. I diligently read the instructions, found my flight reservation number and typed it in, answered all the rest of the questions, pressed the button and….nothing. I groaned. I knew this would happen. I tried to figure out what had gone wrong. Because I always have to be prepared for something to go wrong. But then, a minute later, sounds started emanating from the kiosk and there it was – a bright and shiny luggage tag, followed by my boarding passes. But then came actually putting the tag on the suitcase with very specific instructions on how to attach it to the luggage, which part to keep, etc. I groaned again, but took deep breaths until the tag was firmly affixed to the handle of my suitcase, my part of the tag was placed into my pocketbook with my boarding passes, and I searched for the unspecified area where I needed to drop off my suitcase. After spinning in circles for a few minutes, I eventually spotted the counter for bag drop-off in the distance. Considering I didn’t get scolded by the agent for screwing up the printing and affixing of the tag to the suitcase, I heaved a sigh of relief. And when I asked him where I needed to go to get through security and get to my gate, he told me I’d have to take a train to my concourse and pointed behind him. 

So I found security and got on the line to show them I was who I said I was and then put all my belongings in the bins and get scanned. As I waited on the line, I went to open the zipper to my purse to get my driver’s license and boarding pass out. And the zipper got stuck. It wouldn’t open more than an inch; it had gotten caught on the lining on the inside of the purse. I silently told myself to breathe. This has happened to me before with this brand of purse, but not at such an inopportune time. I once had to actually cut the lining away from the zipper of another purse because it wouldn’t open. Before you say anything, I love this brand – their purses are whimsical and made from recycled water bottles and very affordable, and I always get compliments when people notice the designs. But the lining is just a bit too much so it can get caught in the zipper. So here I am inching closer to the TSA agent with the very stern face and I’m now frantically trying to pull the sides of the purse apart, praying the zipper will magically slide down at least a few more inches. I could feel the sweat dripping down my forehead. I was reaching inside with my fingers, trying to yank the lining out from where it was stuck on the zipper. We were down to two people in front of me and I wondered if I could throw myself on the agent’s mercy at this point and ask for a pair of scissors to once again cut the lining out. I didn’t think asking for scissors would go over real well though. I gave one more mighty heave as the person in front of me walked up to the agent and then, to my astonishment, the zipper gave up its claim on the lining and smoothly slid down the length of my purse. I tried to act nonchalantly as I walked up to the agent and presented my boarding pass and I.D., as if the previous five minutes of frantic contortions hadn’t occurred.

While I was at the gate waiting to board, there were several muffled announcements that the plane was on time and we would be boarding in a few minutes. Soon, we were told we were boarding in three minutes. When three minutes came and went, we all started looking at each other, wondering if we had heard correctly. Finally, there was an announcement that we were going to be delayed because… the cleaning crew hadn’t shown up yet, but they’d be arriving any minute. It was late and everyone was tired and it ended up being about a half hour until we were told the cleaning crew had shown up and we would soon board. For once, I wasn’t stressing since I had a three-hour layover in Atlanta so knocking it back to two and a half hours was fine with me.

We finally boarded the plane. I always choose an aisle seat which ended up being near the back of the plane. I was the first to arrive in my row, so I sat down and waited for my seatmates to arrive. Now here’s the part of the story that I have never experienced in all my years of flying and I was pretty much gob smacked by what happened. The plane was completely full, people were in the aisle attempting to get past others who were trying to jam their bursting carry-ons into the overhead bins. I looked up when a middle-aged woman with a very sour expression on her face glared at me. Without saying anything, she jerked her head to the side. I stared at her. She jerked her head to the side again. What the heck? Surely, she couldn’t be trying to communicate with me. So I continued to stare at her. Then she jerked her thumb at me with the international motion of Get Up. Oh, no, no, no. I continued to look at her. So she did it again. Now, if you know me, you know that if someone is rude to me, I respond with sweetness to drive them crazy. So I smiled at her. “Oh,” I said quite innocently. “Is this your seat?” 

She continued to glare at me but finally spoke, which was my goal since I refused to respond to head and thumb jerks.  “Yeah,” she said. “And you need to get up so I can sit down.” 

“Of course,” I said, smiling. And I very slowly got out of my seat and into the aisle, allowing her to shove her way past me. She had the window seat and soon, a young woman arrived and took the middle seat, much to my relief.

The flight was uneventful, and most of us slept the whole way to Atlanta. When we arrived, groggy and exhausted, everyone was anxious to get off the plane. But being in the back, we had to wait for all the people in the rows in front of us to get up, grab their carry-ons from the bins, and toddle off the plane. Finally, the people in the row in front of us got up, so I stood as well and waited for them to move. And then I heard the lady by the window growl at the young woman in the middle who was trying to gather her things. “You’re going to need to move now because I’ve got a connection to catch.” I didn’t wait to look to see what happened next because I had an opening to move and off I went!

When I finally arrived at the airport in my hometown, I made my way to the luggage carousel, hoping my suitcase would be one of the first to come down because all I wanted was to get home and get a nap in before I had to get started with the rest of my day. The carousel kept dumping luggage out of the chute, but my suitcase wasn’t one of them. More and more suitcases came, and yet still, no suitcase. Oh no, I thought, it’s because I didn’t put the darn tag on properly. My suitcase is probably somewhere in a field in the middle of the country. As I was mentally beating myself up, lo and behold, the trumpets blared and at the top of the carousel, there it was! One wheel was kind of wonky, but I didn’t care. It was my suitcase and it had arrived. For a change, I hadn’t screwed up and neither had the airline! I consider that a win-win.

 

 

Copyright Nancy Machlis Rechtman, all rights reserved