I write stuff down. writer • humorist • activist
I’ve been beating my brain to remember the names of colleagues and friends I worked so closely with nearly a decade ago. How I can remember where we kept the secret stash of copier toner to this day, but not my VP of marketing? Weird, that selective memory. We knew each other so well back then, how could I possibly forget? Day in and day out . . . nights too, and
New Year’s Resolution 2009: don’t be a Nana. I don’t want to be the woman who can’t work a tape deck. Or use an ATM. Or a VCR. Or drive a stick. Perhaps I was a bit behind the times waiting until the 90s to get a microwave, but that’s all changing. Today. The technological revolution has left me a bumbling grandma and I’m not 50 . . . yet. But I
Every flippin’ year I try not to be happy, not to kick up my heels with glee when the holidays are over, but I am. I’m frickin’ ecstatic and woman enough to admit it. Yes, I’m excited to bring Christmas out of hibernation after Thanksgiving, but with this comes the ominous knowledge of what’s to come. The endless shopping, cooking, cleaning, wrapping, working, reeling, talking, hiding, eating, preparing, driving, returning,
I’ve got my list and I’m checking it twice. Family, kids, neighbors, cousins . . . and, uh oh, clients. I’m a freelance copywriter and want to remain in good standing with my clients so I, like many other vendor/client relationships, plan on bribing them with extravagant gifts for the holidays. You see, lobbying isn’t restricted to Washington. We all do it, every holiday season. I know how it works. As
We did it! Twenty-six guests: kids, cousins, sisters, aunts, a boyfriend, uncles, buffers, the Reverend-Doctor, a couple in-laws, friends, grandparents, and even an estranged Great-Aunt Thanksgiving crasher and still, Thanksgiving was great! Kids connected, turkey was eaten, pies were baked, cards were played, memories mocked, photos taken, and it was all so blissfully calm and bright. I don’t mean to brag, but . . . No one threw dishes. No
There’s one less middle school student in my town today. One less Boy Scout, one less baseball player. One less swimmer. One less brother. One less son. A boy died and our hearts broke. Time stood still while moms, dads, neighbors, teachers, coaches, and friends tried to negotiate the traffic jam of gossip and rumors and finally, sadly, truth. Sometimes you can do everything right and still nothing is okay.
One evening, (okay, perhaps more than just one) after dinner when the kids neglected, yet again, to clear the table, I lost it. “What’s your deal?” I yelled at no one in particular. Ranting and raving I went off on the deal we had, Dad and I cook, they set and clear. Simple, right? Yet they didn’t follow through, again, so I explained how I ask them to do a
The energy was palpable at 7:30 this morning when I cast my vote for Obama. No long lines, but a constant whirlwind of people coming in, going out. All exercising their voting right, all walking with a purpose, all driven. I heard that earlier, at 6:00 am, the line was wrapped around one school with people already waiting, but that had eased by the time I showed up. My sister
An irreverent storyteller with a foul mouth and big heart, Kathryn Mayer (aka Kathy and/or Kate) is a writer, humorist, and (former) activist writing out loud with humor and grace about little life moments with big ripples, including the space between parenting and aging parents, social issues, angsty reflections of midlife, and, sigh, gun humpers. Still. Sometimes a big deal, sometimes not Mayer is a national award-winning columnist, according to the National Society of Newspaper Columnists, and her essays have been recognized as Voice of … Read More Here...
kate[at]kathrynmayer[dot]com
xo Kate