We Need a Sign

Boy, stay away from the blog-creating keyboard for a few days and the readers get restless (you know I'm talking to you, Ray.)  I don't want to have a blah-g so I am back at the keyboard, putting my random thoughts and untested theories to the cyber page.

Today's subject: signaling while driving.  We seem to have signals for so many movements and situations in driving. Like: I-want-to-cut-in-front-of-you-is-that-okay-with-you?  In stopped traffic, this involves pulling right next to the car you want to cut in front of, (sometimes with a bit of your car jutting into their lane so there is no actual need for discussion), getting the attention of the driver and giving questioning looks while pointing repeatedly to the space in front of their car and smiling as though you actually know this driver, until he nods his head expressively, sometimes adding a shrug and the mouth movement shrug. Sometimes you bite your lip as though there is real money on the table. After he lets you in, you give another universal signal, a big wave aimed at the back window to thank him.

There is the head shake, sometimes accompanied by a finger shake when someone tries to take the parking space you're waiting for.  There is often verbalization, heard only by you, but it helps, doesn't it? "Nuh uh, you are not taking my parking space.  Oh no you don't, you little ____." And we all know the sorts of signals that arise when someone takes that parking space, does not let you merge, or is generally a jerk.  That is a well-established gesture we don't need to go into here.

There even seems to be a universal and well-choreographed routine for your-coat/belt/scarf-is-hanging-out-the-door-and-maybe-even-dragging-in-the-sludge.  This involves following the driver in question, tooting your horn, pointing energetically at the bottom of their door, acting like a mad stalker, more honking, ignoring their puzzled and annoyed looks, finally deciding they will wish they had listened to you when they get home and see their coat/belt/scarf in its new state of ruin, and driving on your way, irritated as many good Samaritans get.

So, with all of the above signals and more not mentioned here, why don't we have a universal signal for I'm-really-sorry-I-almost-killed-you-fellow-driver?   Haven't we all pulled in front of innocent strangers who were in our blind spot?  Innocent strangers driving 65 to 80 miles an hour?  Haven't we all cut across a lane of traffic we thought was empty only to hear the horn of distress and see the terrified faces in the other car?  Turned a city corner just as the ancient woman with the walker entered the crosswalk? Haven't we?  Or is it just me?  Yikes.  I think we need a warm, fuzzy signal that says life is short and I'm truly sorry I almost shortened yours.  I am really, really sorry.  Forgive me, stranger and accept my universal signal.

I've Got You, Babes

I'm still in Vermont and I'm really busy attending workshops and lectures and readings and I didn't think I could get to my blog.  But then I realized, I have followers who count on me. There are ten of you out there! That's more than a softball team, more than many town councils. It's nearly a dozen.  We are approaching the head count of an egg carton!  So don't worry, Alan, Molly, Marian, Kate, Jacqueline, Cindy, Maggie, Woody, Carol Ann and Tina, I will not let you down.  I will blog on.

By the way, this thing I'm doing in Vermont is wonderful.  I'm enrolled in the low residency MFA program in Writing at the Vermont College of Fine Arts. This is my first residency: ten days of back-to-back offerings on the craft of writing, getting published, reviewing, what have you.  We attend workshops where we discuss our writing and the writing of others.  We go to readings of other students and big name writers.  It's all too much for my slow, old ass, but I attend everything I can and I'm learning so much.  Meeting great people, too, from as far away as Australia and Vancouver.  

I've been assigned a mentor, Jen Bervin, who has given me a list of thirty plus books to read between now and the semester's end in late December.  Didn't she get the memo on me having a slow, old ass? No, she did not and that is a very good thing.  She will challenge me and encourage me and she is also just a very nice person so I think I'll like getting to know her.

As an aside, a great thing about Vermont is the maple syrup.  Of course you know that; Vermont is known for its maple syrup.  But I come from another part of the country, where I often have to ask for and pay extra for real maple syrup, where I have sometimes found myself staring into the blank eyes of a waitperson who is baffled when I ask for 'real' maple syrup, and who seems to think I am asking if the container they are holding exists, as though I may be in the middle of a bad acid trip or am just one strange customer.  Being in Vermont’s maple-syrup-friendly zone is like stepping into a world one hoped existed but hardly dared wish for. Yum.

Happy New Year

Happy New Year everyone!  I'm staying in a hotel in Montpelier, Vermont this week and raucously celebrated last night by staying in my room, writing reports on lectures I'd attended, and drinking alone, as I've heard real writers are obliged to do. Don't feel sorry for me; I'm not much of a New Year's Eve kind of person.  I never cared much about the symbolism of the fresh start or the noting of time passing.  Now, Thanksgiving, that's my kind of holiday.  Food, family and friends.  Bam, you've got a great day. No staying up beyond my bedtime to watch a ball in another city slide down a building.  No confetti.  No noise.  No silly hats. No kissing strangers. And I repeat, no silly hats, unless you're into pilgrim reenactments at your house, but we try to stick with contemporary clothes at ours.

Drive safely, everyone.