Oy! I’m tied in knots–I’m in “over-think” and “over-analysis!” I can’t even write without wondering which words I’m using incorrectly. So, in an effort to continue, please forego any criticism of the written word for now!

This morning I did it again—I corrected my husband’s mispronunciation of a word, in this case, a person’s name, Maureen Dowd. He got angry and asked me, “Why do you need to correct me all the time?” I was about to comment that “all the time” was a generalization, but decided not to add fuel to the fire! “I don’t know,” I stammered, looking down at the Sunday paper. And thus, today’s topic is: Mispronunciation: What’s the big deal?

When I went to school, teachers drilled us on grammar and pronunciation (Don’t you love the “When I went to school…” or “When I was young… lead-in? Can we say “old” and “exaggerated”?). To this day I’ve been known to sweat over stuff like whether quotation marks go before or after the punctuation mark! My personal Achilles’ Heel (I must be missing Crete’s Blue Palace, www.bluepalace.gr  today —Pandora and Achilles references!) is not so much the written word–it’s the spoken word. There is nothing cute or folksy about using “ain’t” or, adding insult to injury, using it with “no” and creating a double negative—”ain’t no big deal” (ouch, my fingers spasmed while typing that!). Another phrase that’s been known to make me cringe is the teenage habit of beginning a sentence with “Me and …”   (”I” for subject and “me” for object —grrrr!).

So, Barbara, what’s the big deal? Is it the love of correct grammar or of just being correct? Is it better to be right than kind? I know I have some strong feelings tied up in pronunciation and they are not pretty feelings. I realize that I put a lot of judgement in speaking correctly—words like intelligent, well-read, well-bred (another ouch to admit), worldly—in plain English, being “better than” comes up for me. Carrying this to a different scenario, if a child in Nairobi’s Mukuru slum came up to me, hugged me, and said, “Me love you!”, would I correct her or would I just be filled with love and hope and just hug her back?

  Please, please, please click on the image to preview the ultra cool Save the Date card we’re sending for Great Getaways 15th Anniversary Bash!

Now, for those of you who aren’t susceptible to my pleading here’s the info in readable text:

SAVE THE DATE FOR OUR OUT-OF-THIS-WORLD 15TH ANNIVERSARY BASH!  SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 16TH AT ARTichokes IN MISSION FARMS

 If you tell me you can read the image to the left without enlarging it, I want the name of your opthamologist! It reads:

The Leawood travel agency that gives you the luxury of experience is turning 15! Treat yourself to a night of experience at ARTichokes, Leawood’s premier art space in Mission Farms, Sunday, September 16, 2007, 7 – 10 PM, ARTichokes, 10557 Mission Road, Leawood; Light Hors d’ Oeuvres; Cruise & Vacation Silent Auction to Benefit Alzheimers Association; Sponsored by: Great Getaways, Virgin Galactic, Holland America Line, Creative Leisure, ARTichokes, Oberoi Hotels & Resorts, SPACES magazine

No need to read on because I know you’re anxious to put the date in your calendar, pda, or perhaps create a tasteful tattoo reminder!

I’m not sure when I first began to think about getting old—at age 30, definitely middle-aged I thought; 40 was a painful blur; 50, the beginning of the best years of my life so far; it wasn’t 50, so when was it or, perhaps more revealing, why was it?

I spent a few days in Chicago this week, an unplanned visit with my mother, who had been admitted to the hospital on Monday. Mom is going to be 90 years old in October and is suffering some form of dementia. When Mom goes to the hospital, it’s a very big deal.

Two years ago my mom spent a few days in the hospital with pneumonia. When my brother, Ron, called me, I was about to head home from a week of hotel site inspections in Athens and Crete (It’s fun to chronicle my life by destinations!). By the time I got home to Kansas City, the “I just want you to know…” call became “You’d better come up ASAP!” I was very upset and had meaningless conversations with myself to allay my fears and projections (why don’t I project happy events?):”Come on, Barbara,” I chided, “She’s lived a full life. Don’t be selfish!”; the truly selfish “This is really bad timing; I have so much work to do; and the dose of reality, “So this is what it’s like to grow old.”

My mother recovered and we brought her home laden with prescriptions, a machine to help break up her congestion, and lots of flowers.

On the plus side, Mom had asked me to buy her a new bed before she got home—a “super duper, extra-long, twin-sized, electrically-endowed-to-move-in-many-directions bed” and it had been delivered in time for her return from Hotel Hospital (they have valet parking AND Starbucks!!!). I had adjusted the bed so her head would be elevated (just like in the hospital—where she repeatedly told me how much she loved the hospital bed!). Using her walker, Mom came into the bedroom, looked at the bed and said, “I can’t sleep like that! Put the mattress flat!”

Life with an Aging Parent Lesson #1: Do what’s right

Life with an Aging Parent Lesson #2:  You are no longer the child seeking approval. See Lesson #1

Life with An Aging Parent Lesson #3: When your parent asks you to do something, see Lessons #1 and #2.

Moral of the story: the mattress has been flat for 2 years!

to be continued…