WEDDING JITTERS

Recently, I received an e-mail wedding invitation from a young couple I have never met. The groom contacted me through his grandmother’s address book, which obviously hadn’t been buried with her when she died two years ago. The invitation announced that the wedding would be an “outdoor adventure” held in a cabin in the woods in a far, far away forest in Minnesota. A map was attached.

The couple suggested that after arriving by plane people should car pool because the cabin is difficult to find. “Do not plan to arrive after dark because the dirt road has pot holes and there isn’t much parking” was their welcoming message. They also added a postscript, “No gifts, please. We have everything we need. Cash will be appreciated.” I sent my regrets and a donation in their honor to an association for the mentally challenged. Whoever came up with the lame brained idea of “destination weddings” should be booked on a cruise on the River Styx.

A couple I know insisted they be married while standing on a boulder jutting out over the Grand Canyon. When the bride’s mother was asked to step closer to the edge, she looked down and fainted. I also missed the acrophobia wedding. 

However, my husband and I did attend an afternoon, 110-degree, garden wedding in Yuma Arizona. When the usher inquired, “Are you on the bride’s side or the groom’s side?” My husband, peeled off his jacket and croaked, “The shady side!” Why in the world, would anyone think it romantic to get married in an oven? I can’t remember the last time I went to a wedding of reasonably normal people.

There was the Blizzard In Indiana Wedding where the groom forgot the license, the bride forgot the cake, a busload of uninvited people from Detroit arrived, and the lights went out. We were all snowed in until the next day. That marriage didn’t last a year.

Then there was the revolving top of a hotel wedding in Atlanta. When I left the room to powder my nose, my table had spun somewhere else. I had to wait 20 minutes before it came back around. The dancers twirled one way---the room twirled the other way---and I ordered Dramamine for dessert.

My least favorite destination was a wedding held in a Bayou. For those of you who don’t speak Southern, that means swamp. The young couple thought it would be romantic. The mosquitoes found it delicious, and the ants kept busy playing footsie with the guests. The motorboats drowned out the vows, and the reception involved some serious grazing because the couple practiced devout veganism. I finally understand why people cry at weddings.  It’s not the emotion. It’s the sunburn.

Esther Blumenfeld (out of the quagmire and into the reception line)

SHOW AND TELL

When my son, Josh was in second grade, he had a pal named, Joey. Joey’s father was a doctor, and one day, when he had to pick up some files at the hospital, he asked the boys if they wanted to go along for the ride. Naturally, they were up for the adventure.

On their way to the hospital, they told Joey’s Dad that they had to bring something to school the next day for Show and Tell, and Joey’s Dad said,  “How would you boys like to take your urine specimens to show the class?”

So, the next day, Josh and Joey presented two vials of urine, along with a graphic description of the collection, to the enthusiastic class. Nothing, fazed their teacher, Mrs. McIntyre, whose response was, “That was most illuminating, Boys. Now, go dispose your exhibit into the toilet.”

After the class calmed down, little Timmy Snyder raised his hand and said, “Mrs. McIntyre, my Daddy is a doctor too. Can I bring him to school tomorrow for Show and Tell?” “Certainly,” replied the teacher, “But we’ve already heard enough about urine. That’s not what you plan to share, is it?” “Oh, No,” said Timmy. “My Daddy had a vasectomy.”  Mrs. McIntyre retired shortly after that.

Show and Tell, in second grade, was a lovely way for the children to get to know one another. Sharing something meaningful encouraged children in the class to respect one another, and talking about something of interest, helped a child develop some organizational and presentational skills---as well as thinking fast on his or her feet. For a shy child, this was a real challenge, but an important one.

The only time I was involved in Show and Tell, as an adult, was at my wedding shower, where I had to open my gifts in front of the multitudes and ooze appropriate appreciation---“This is beautiful. Thank you so much!” It worked very well, until I opened one package, and hadn’t the foggiest idea what the item was supposed to be used for. It looked like an instrument right out of the Spanish Inquisition. There was no way I could say, “What is this?” or “Thanks for the thumb screw.” So, I said, “Now, this is truly a memorable gift.”  As you can see, I did not lie!

Nowadays, because of Social Media, we live in a Show and Tell society. It used to be that people valued their privacy, but nothing seems to be sacred anymore.
People just let everything hang out---figuratively and literally! And, while they expose themselves, they don’t seem to care that millions of people are watching, listening or hacking their personal lives.

This leaves me to wonder; what do these people really cherish? What do they hold dear? When they get old, everything will have been shown and everything will have been said, and there will be nothing left---even to the imagination.

When my Father was a very old man, in the twilight of his life, he prepared a final surprise for his family.  After his death, when we gathered around the dining room table, my brother, David read Dad’s final wishes for his children and grandchildren. Dad had thoughtfully, and carefully, selected which family heirlooms he thought would be cherished by each person around that table. He had written the history and story of each piece, and gave insight into why he thought that item would be meaningful, and why he had selected it for a particular loved one sitting at that table.

It was the Show and Tell of a lifetime. It was a Show and Tell always to be cherished. It was a Show and Tell gratefully received and never forgotten.

Esther Blumenfeld

NANNY ON WHEELS

Who wants to leave their baby with a three-foot talking vacuum cleaner?  Codey, the humanoid robot from Mind Children, a Seattle company will be introduced to the public by the end of 2026. My thought is, “Don’t we have enough robots in Congress?  Do we also have to hire them as baby sitters?” This is not a rhetorical question. 

Robot nannies are already being used in Japan and China.  Child care in the U.S. is already a big, expensive problem, and more than 11 million children in the United States, younger than age 5, are in some form of childcare.  Yes, childcare is expensive, but are parents willing to trust a robot to raise their kids? A robot cannot think for itself.  It has to be carefully programmed.  If the program isn’t clear, the robot could go to the refrigerator and grab a bottle of vodka instead of a bottle of juice.  After all a bottle is a bottle.

The big question is, “Will people ever trust a robot to look after their baby when they aren’t around to supervise?”  Some experts say, “Yes,” and others say “Hell, NO!”
A robotic nanny hasn’t been trained for child development. The robot might be able to chop an onion, but she can’t provide the skills of a professional nanny.  I have never heard of a robot who has CPR/first aid certification and has taken a two year course in child development.

How about emergency evacuation, or water safety?  When a child says, “Let’s go swimming.”  will the  robot nanny jump in the water and develop rust?  Or if the little girl falls and has a “Boo Boo” will she be able to climb into the Robot’s lap and get a comforting hug?  Can love be programmed?

Bottom line…”Which tech company would you trust with your child’s care?” How about the Elon Musk’s chainsaw approach?  Granted, he’s got lots of kids, but would you want him as the owner of the company who designed your child’s nanny on wheels?

It’s one thing to have a car that has no driver, but it’s another to have a child raised by a talking vacuum cleaner with no heart.

Esther Blumenfeld

LOOK WHO'S COMING FOR DINNER

The headline of a Reuter’s news story recently caught my attention, “Cannibalism is bad for your health, scientists find,” which made me think, “It’s not so good for the other guy either.”
Michal Misiak of the University of Wroclaw, and Petr Turecek of Charles University in Prague, used a mathematical model to do their study. They found that eating people leads to population collapse, because eating your neighbors could make you sick.

They also discovered that, “from a caloric perspective, a person turns out to be an average meal.”  Not for vegetarians he doesn’t ! And they also found out,  that when cannibals eat other cannibals, even cooking, doesn’t improve the meal.  And, these days, who’s got a microwave even big enough for left overs?

Once it was common among the Fore People of Papua New Guinea to cook and eat deceased relatives— believing that they freed their spirits. However, I’m not sure that a troublesome in-law wouldn’t cause indigestion—or get stuck in your teeth.

All of these problems connected to cannibalism led to the strongest taboos for humans.  Dr. Misiak said, “Taboo acts as an evolutionary safeguard.”  

Consequently,  it really is better for you to eat with a friend rather than serving her on a plate.  And, in good conscience you can throw your Tums away.

The scientists ended the article with this wise conclusion:

“Communities that didn’t curb cannibalism simply didn’t survive.”  

Thanks so much Michal and Petr.  I think I’ll have a kosher hotdog.

Esther Blumenfeld

STOP TOUCHING EVERYTHING

Yesterday, someone asked me, “What is the Midas Touch?” So, instead of telling her to look it up on her smart phone, I proceeded to tell her the classic Greek myth about the wealthy ruler who loved gold more than anything else.

In the story, Dionysus, the God of Wine, offered to grant  Midas any wish he wanted. So, King Midas, a very greedy man, wished that everything he touched would turn to gold. Dionysus, taking a big sip from his flask, granted Midas his wish. Now, Midas turned everything—the furniture, the walls, the trees and even the flowers—into lots of gold, which made him a very,  wealthy man. However, when he sat in his golden chair, his food and wine also turned to gold before he could even eat or drink. According to the story, his daughter ran to console him, and she also turned into a golden stature. 

Poor Midas begged Dionysus to take pity on him. By now, Dionysus, the God of Wine was a little drunk, so he told Midas to go wash his hands in the reflecting pool near his castle. The touch washed away the gold, but turned the pool a nasty green, but happily Midas was reunited with his daughter.

However, Midas’s arrogance led him to another embarrassing punishment when he used poor judgment and selected the wrong people, for very important positions, to help him reign over his kingdom. The Greek God, Apollo punished him for his poor judgment, and cursed King Midas with the orange ears of a donkey. Midas was forced to hide his donkey ears under a large red cap.  Only his barber knew his secret, and was sworn, under pain of death, not to tell anyone.

The barber could not keep his mouth shut, so he dug a hole under unfinished construction near the castle, and he whispered the secret into the earth. Then he covered it all up. Reeds began to grow in the secret spot, and when the wind blew the reeds whispered the truth:
“ King Midas has ass’s ears.”

So, what can we learn from the myth of King Midas and his love of gold.  It stems from the desire to show off success, authority, power and dominance, and of course—GREED.

Perhaps it also leads us to the Golden Rule, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”  “Whatever you don’t want to happen to you, do not do to another person.”

Or maybe: Treat other people with kindness and understanding, so you won’t end up looking like an ass.

Esther Blumenfeld