Baby, It’s P.C. Outside

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On a recent long drive, I heard five different versions of the song “Baby, It’s Cold Outside.” While the 1944 Christmas classic has always been played at this time of year, I suspect the reason for its renewed popularity is that some radio stations have banned it on the grounds that it references sexual coercion.

In light of the #MeToo movement and the conviction of Bill Cosby, who drugged women and raped them, the song’s lyric, “Say, what’s in this drink?,” has taken on sinister overtones. Critics argue that the woman in the song keeps saying no and the man keeps refusing to take her “no” seriously.

But the full context of the song paints a different picture. The woman is mostly worried about appearances: “The neighbors might think,” and”There’s bound to be talk tomorrow.” It’s clear she wants to stay: “At least I’m gonna say that I tried.” And she keeps accepting “maybe just a half a drink more” and later “a cigarette more.”

“Baby, It’s Cold Outside” is an old song that reflects very different sexual mores. It would have been considered improper for a woman to spend the night at a man’s place. Her family would be upset, and people would gossip. There was also a double standard (which, sadly, still exists today) that men were expected to pursue women openly while women had to act demure and as if they were too virtuous to want sex.

So is the song sexist and retro? Yes! But I don’t think that is grounds for banning it from airplay. There are so many songs from the past that have sexist and downright disturbing lyrics. Take the Rolling Stones’ “Under My Thumb.” It’s all about how the man has asserted dominance over his woman. Isn’t anyone offended by the lyrics, “the way she talks when she’s spoken to?” And how about “Run For Your Life” by the Beatles: “I’d rather see you dead, little girl, than to be with another man.” And don’t even get me started on the lyrics of a lot of current music.

I realize that part of the brouhaha over “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” is that it’s supposed to be a feel good holiday song. I understand why people find it offensive. And certainly, no one should be forced to listen to it or any other song to which they object. But to ban it? I personally cannot watch the movie “Breakfast At Tiffany’s” due to the racist portrayal of an Asian character by Mickey Rooney. But I’m not interested in preventing others from watching it. Nor do I consider them racist for liking the film. The level of sensitivity to what offends us these days has gone overboard.

The irony of the “BICO” ban is that the song seems to have become more popular than ever. Obviously, people don’t want to be told what they should or should not listen to. So let’s lay off “Baby, It’s Cold Outside.” Frankly, I’m getting really sick of hearing it.

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Phone Home?

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My son’s iPhone died recently, and it was sort of like losing a limb for him. He emailed us to inform us about it and to let us know he would be going to the Apple store to see if the phone could be saved. My husband asked him to borrow a friend’s phone and give us a call to talk about the options should the phone not be salvageable. The only wrinkle was that our son has no idea what our phone numbers are.

This is one of the casualties of the digital age. No one memorizes other people’s phone numbers. And no one keeps a paper address book so that they can retrieve the number even when their phone is on the fritz. Instead, a dead phone means the total loss of all the contacts stored within it. I pride myself on memorizing numbers easily. Just ask me to rattle off my credit card or drivers license number. But even I struggled when my other son got a new phone number through his work and I tried to memorize it. Since the number was stored in my iPhone contacts, I didn’t really need to dial (antiquated term!) the number. So it took me months and deliberate effort to commit my son’s number to memory.

This difficulty with phone numbers is not the only loss that has come with the digital age.  Our dependence on technology has affected other parts of our lives. Take, for instance, the art of writing. The vast majority of people never put pen to paper, choosing instead to send emails, type essays on the computer, or jot notes electronically in their cell phones. I can foresee a future in which pens and writing implements actually become obsolete. Yet research has shown that people retain information better when they physically write it down on paper. (Just ask any shopper who left her grocery list at home on the counter!)

Our ability to gather information has also become dependent on technology. Without the internet, most people wouldn’t have the faintest idea how to do research. We wouldn’t be able to find phone numbers and addresses of local businesses. Some of us would have a hard time getting our shopping done. My cousin went back to college in the not too distant past to get a bachelors degree in a new subject. When called upon to do a research project with a small group, my cousin went old school. She gathered a number of books on the subject, sat her group down, and had them sift through the information in the books to solve the hypothetical problem posed in the assignment. The small group of Millennials were a bit dumbfounded by this method, but most agreed that they got a lot out of searching for information in this way.

Advances in technology are beneficial to productivity and often make life easier for us. I’m grateful for all the ways technology has helped me perform household chores, kept me warm or cool depending upon the season, and made it easier to find what I’m looking for. But just as the use of calculators made people forget how to do basic arithmetic, the use of computers (including those mini ones in our pockets) has caused some of our basic mental and physical skills to atrophy. I think a balance between the old and the new would be a helpful way to get the best of both worlds.

Maybe E.T. could have phoned home more easily if he had just written down the number!

Selling Luxury

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Recently, numerous style movers and shakers were invited to the opening of a boutique featuring the work of a new Italian shoe designer, Bruno Palessi. Shoppers were impressed by the unique designs and incredible workmanship, and many paid hundreds of dollars to snag a pair of the latest hot brand.

There was only one problem. There’s no shoe designer named Bruno Palessi. The opening was an advertising stunt devised for Payless Shoes, a discount retailer that has been seeing a decline in business over the past several years and is hoping shoppers will rediscover their shoes. The shoes those unwitting shoppers paid hundreds of dollars for – and rhapsodized so eloquently about – were the same ones that retail at Payless for about $30. (The suckers shoppers got their money back and were given the shoes for free.)

Such is the role of perception in our buying decisions. Who among us has not been impressed by a fancy-sounding name or upscale look? I know I often assume that the pricier item is the better one whether I’m purchasing a sweater or a set of headphones.

And branding is another powerful motivator of buying decisions. Designer labels and brands that become instantly popular carry a lot of weight with shoppers, who are willing to pay much more for the “real thing.” Take Uggs, those delightful sheepskin imports from Australia. All things Ugg are way more pricey than their no-name counterparts. But I would contend that my “Fuggs” (fake Uggs) are just as cozy, cute and durable as the expensive name brand ones.

It’s not just apparel either. I remember when my oldest was about 9 or 10, and the Razor scooter was de rigueur for any self-respecting preteen. With my inherent cheapness, I attempted to buy a different brand of scooter but was told in no uncertain terms that it had to be a Razor and none other. And, of course, we need look no further than Apple to realize that once a brand takes hold in the public mind, other makes and models are looked upon as second-rate.

Back in high school, I wrote a research paper on the perfume industry and was unsurprised to find out that the price of cologne reflects mostly the cost of marketing and packaging, not of the aromatic liquid in the bottle. I learned that there is seldom a recession in the cosmetic industry because people are always willing to buy a little bit of luxury to make themselves feel better even in the worst of times.

This holiday season, we might consider the power of marketing and presentation when we go to the malls or shop online. We might save a bit of money – or, as in the case of the gullible Palessi shoppers, our self-respect.

 

 

Giving Tuesday an Antidote to Greed

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When I hear stories of Black Friday shoppers practically trampling each other to death, I get a little sick to my stomach. I understand the impulse to snag great deals on big ticket items. When you’re on a tight budget, it can be hard to make your loved ones’ Christmas dreams come true. But come on, folks. We haven’t even digested our Thanksgiving turkey before we’re clawing our way to shopping nirvana.

Then there’s Cyber Monday for those of us who just can’t face an actual shopping mall at holiday time. Instead of pushing and shoving, we develop carpal tunnel syndrome from our day spent online digging for the best cyber deals. The number of marketing emails in my inbox on Cyber Monday just adds to the internet overload.

And all of this, of course, is the antithesis of what Christmas is supposed to be all about. But I see a glimmer of hope in the new phenomenon called Giving Tuesday. A movement sparked by social media, Giving Tuesday encourages us to think of others instead of ourselves and our own circle of friends and family.

When I look at all the Facebook posts that are popping up today, it gives me pause and reminds me that there are people so much less fortunate than myself. Whether it’s a need for food, shelter, education, or a medical miracle, people in our world could use our help. Enter Giving Tuesday.

Today I’ve chosen to support a cause close to home for Giving Tuesday: the Bayan Hassaballa Foundation. Bayan was the young daughter of a local family who lost a battle against Ataxia-Telangiectasia and Lymphoma in 2009. Her family created a foundation to “paint the world pink” for Bayan by raising funds to provide blankets to children in hospitals and to fund research for a cure for Bayan’s devastating disease.

There are so many ways, large and small, to participate in Giving Tuesday. Most grocery stores collect small change to help fund the local food pantry. There are winter coat drives and adopt-a-family programs to help the needy at Christmastime. Toys for Tots places bins all over town in which to donate a new toy or game. Barnes & Noble offers the opportunity to purchase a book for a needy child. The list is endless.

If nothing else, we can give the gift of ourselves on Giving Tuesday. Volunteer at your child’s school or the local food pantry. Visit an elderly neighbor or relative. Shovel your neighbor’s snow. The impulse to give is part of our nature every bit as much as the one to grab and get more for ourselves. It is the response of our better angels to the coldness and need in the world.

I hope Giving Tuesday slows us down and gives us the perspective we need to realize that the more we give, the more we receive. Or, to borrow from the Beatles, “the love you take is equal to the love you make.”

Sheep in Wolf’s Clothing

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Sheep-in-Wolfs-ClothingBack in 1971, the musical duo Loggins and Messina came out with “Danny’s Song,” an innocent ballad about love and the future. I remember listening to the lyrics, “Even though we ain’t got money, I’m so in love with you, honey, everything will bring a chain of love.” My response? “Oh, sure. What are you going to do? Live on love?” Yes, I had become a 13-year-old cynic.

Maybe cynicism is a phase that teenagers go through in order to seem cooler than they are. But mine carried through into adulthood, and it still hovers in the background of my personality. And I think I finally know why.

A cynic is a disillusioned idealist. My 13-year-old self had so many romantic notions. I devoured romance novels and fantasized about being swept off my feet by a Mr. Rochester type. I carried a photo of Michael Jackson around in my wallet and dreamt of one day being Mrs. Michael Jackson. Yet already at that tender age, I realized that life is hard and one needs money to live. If love really meant never having to say you’re sorry, we’d all be in trouble.

Cynicism is a kind of mental and emotional armor. If I mock something, I can mask the fact that I really care about it. A case in point is the way my sisters and I would provide running commentary while watching beauty pageants. We were ruthlessly critical of the women parading around in swimsuits and spouting platitudes about world peace. For me, the sarcasm masked the fact that I would have loved nothing more than to be so prized for my beauty that I was part of a national or worldwide contest to proclaim the most beautiful.

Being cynical is also common in the arena of politics. The disillusioning effects of dirty campaigns, corrupt officials, and the need to be rich in order to have a chance at winning elections all serve to make many people turn away from politics altogether – or to look at every politician as a con artist. This might explain, at least in part, the very low turnout for most U.S. elections. For instance, Illinois’ governor’s race this year was a case of holding one’s nose and choosing between a billionaire who had done very little to improve the state in his previous term and another billionaire whose previous dealings smacked of corruption. It’s no wonder cynicism flourishes in modern society while idealism languishes.

I’m not knocking realists. It’s important to see things as they are and not always to be viewing the world through rose-colored glasses. If we don’t acknowledge our failings and those of our leaders, we won’t make any positive changes. But I miss the youthful enthusiasm I used to have for causes. I miss dreaming big. Perhaps as I get older, I will return to my childlike state and become a hopeless romantic once again.

 

NOel

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Yesterday a station on Sirius XM radio started playing Christmas songs. Mind you, not just the occasional festive holiday tune thrown in among other popular offerings. Nonstop, 24/7 holiday treacle. Is it cliche to scream, “TOO SOON!”?

It’s sometimes hard to wrap my mind around the fact that our society could take a  feast honoring a poor, imperiled Christ child in a manger and turn it into a shameless commercial bonanza. (Of course, the ancient Romans and Celts are rolling over in their graves at their “pagan” festivities being coopted by the Christians.)

Take something lovely and pure, and someone will try to monetize it. Romantic love? Let’s sell pricey roses, candy, and jewelry and make those items stand in for our feelings. Love your mom? Nothing says devotion like an overpriced all-you-can-eat hotel brunch, a $7 greeting card, and yes, more flowers.

So I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that a holiday involving the ritual of gift-giving would eventually get over the top. When I was a kid, my dad would sometimes buy our tree on Christmas Eve! Nowadays, people put their artificial Christmas trees up in early November, and I still see them in the windows on Valentine’s Day.

One of my favorite Christmas specials to this day is A Charlie Brown Christmas. In it, Charlie Brown is frustrated by the hoopla and commercialization of Christmas. Finally he cries out in frustration, “Does anyone know what Christmas is all about?!” His friend Linus, of course, adorably quotes the gospel of Luke, which describes the scene of Christ’s birth.

There’s so much to love about the Christmas holidays, so many fun and beloved traditions. But let’s wait until the leaves have fallen off the trees and I’ve gotten sick of pumpkin products. Let’s enjoy a fallow time between the excess of Halloween and the folderol of Christmastime. Let’s tramp through the leaves and enjoy hot apple cider by the fire with a good book or a good friend. Let’s plan our feast for Thanksgiving without the distraction of Christmas songs and pre-holiday sales and peppermint mochas.

Luckily there are dozens of other good stations on the radio to listen to during this wonderfully uncommercial season of the year. Beatles channel, anyone?

SMH!!!!!

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In one of the opening episodes of the HBO series The Newsroom, a young intern is tasked with sending flowers to a staff member who recently lost a loved one. Her boss confronts her about the message she had included with the flowers: “So sorry for your loss. LOL????”

“I thought it meant ‘Lots of Love,'” the intern explains apologetically. Mind you, one would think a Millennial would be more well versed in the latest slang: textspeak. Since the invention of texting in the 1990s, the popularity of communicating by cellphone text has exploded. In fact, my kids will rarely answer if I call their cellphones. But they will answer right away if I text them. And no, they are not unable to speak because they are in the Situation Room dealing with a crisis in the Middle East.

Along with the convenience of texting came the inevitable abbreviations that make texting quicker – but also more confusing. I’ve had to ask people (mostly my kids) the meaning of such shorthand as “LMK,” “IDK,” and “SMH.” Textspeak has started to feel like a special lingo for the young – with nuances we old fogeys can barely grasp.

For instance, I was unaware that if a person texted me an invitation to do something and I simply responded, “Sure,” that would mean that I was only begrudgingly willing to do so. Similarly, in an attempt to seem cooler than I actually am, I once answered my daughter’s request with a simple “K” for “okay.” Little did I know that just typing “K” implied that I was mad at her. Ditto for using “…” as an ellipsis for one’s thoughts.

Who knew that simple abbreviations and punctuation use (or the lack thereof) could carry such emotional weight in communication? I find myself peppering my texts with hundreds of exclamation points like an overly peppy high school cheerleader passing notes in English class – rather than the sober-minded woman who qualifies for the senior citizen discount at the movie theater.

Emoji use is also fraught with the potential for misunderstandings. Is that a smile or a grimace on that round yellow face? Should I use this winking emoji, or will that come off as flirting? What if I accidentally select the vomiting or poop emoji and send it to a friend?

For millennia, the younger generation has found ways of separating itself from the older one. They develop unique tastes in music and fashion. And they create their own special language to bond with their tribe while remaining opaque to the elders they are leaving in the dust.

The problem is that we Baby Boomers still think of ourselves as the younger generation. We try to stay young with our skinny jeans and skinny lattes. And we will continue to butcher the new language of the young – textspeak – as long as we have the use of our opposable thumbs and our everlasting urge to be:

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