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Waterfalls of Information

   Occasionally I get printed material, purportedly of a serious and informative nature that just strikes me as extremely funny. Usually it’s the manner in which it is presented; assuming the audience, it seems, to possess the I.Q. of a turnip. Or, perhaps it the unusual usage of a word or phrase. A prime example of this is the instruction manuals included with many technology products, which appear to have translated into English by one who is not altogether familiar with the language. The booklet included with my monitor, for instance, informed me that certain functions could take place when light was “blinkering.”
Today we are going to discuss a memo directed to the manager of the bank for which I work. It was from the company that issues the Traveler’s Cheques we have available for purchase by our customers. As the person in charge of such transactions, the memo was given to me. It’s main purport was to remind us that we MUST charge fees for certain sales, while other types were discretionary. See if you can fathom the included Settlement Flow :
1) Sell the cheques
2) Collect CF2 value and/or GC value plus Amex fee plus Seller fees
3) Remit to AE CF2 value and/or GC value plus Amex fee
4) Retain Revenue Seller Fees

   Simple, right? But this is my favorite instruction: “Please cascade these procedures to all personnel who handle sales.” Cascade? When I think of cascade, I picture a wide waterfall rapidly flowing over a precipice. (I also think of a particular brand of dishwasher detergent that gets your dishes sparkling clean with no water spots). What I DON’T think of is distribution of information. With a little effort, I can picture reams of printed material dropping from the sky into the very hands of those with the need to know.
Perhaps I am making too big a deal over this, but I love words, and am amused by this unconventional phrasing. I think I would have been tempted to, instead, ask to have those procedures “passed along” to the appropriate persons. But that wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun. Or Colorful. Or Picturesque.
And by the way, feel free to cascade this post to all of your family and friends.
As Ever,
UltraMom

Celebrity Interview

I know that a lot of us “dabble” in poetry, but I am privileged to be acquainted with a bona fide poet. One who has been personally invited to attend the Famous Poets Ninth Annual Poetry Convention in Orlando, Florida by none other than Lavender Aurora, the Poetry Editor. Somehow, I snagged an interview with this important man. It was quite a coup, and no easy task. So without further ado, may I present Johnny McDonald, or as we sometimes call him (behind his back) Johnny Wordsworth Longfellow.

UltraMom: Tell me a little about this Famous Poets Ninth Annual Poetry Convention.
Johnny: (In a bored, “no big deal” tone of voice) Well, it seems that my most famous poem “Depression” has been chosen to be eligible for a presentation. I will be honored as a Famous Poet for 2003 and receive the elegant Shakespeare Trophy of Excellence, and poets from all over the world will be there to cheer me on.
UltraMom: That sounds exciting. Is that all?
Johnny: No, see, it says right here in the letter: “ There’s more!” The Board of Directors has also elected to present me with The Johnny McDonald 2003 Poet of the Year Medallion! This medallion, suspended from a stylized red, white and blue ribbon, like an Olympic medal will be exclusively handcrafted for this occasion only.
UltraMom: How many people were you competing against for this Johnny McDonald 2003 Poet of the Year Medallion?
Johnny: Well, this is an international thing, so I’m sure the competition was pretty stiff.
UltraMom: (Glancing at letter) Gee, you weren’t making this up. And it looks like this is only the beginning……..
Johnny: Well, yes as you can see (quoting from letter) “Dr. Kenneth Fan, the renowned..
UltraMom,( excitedly interrupting) Wait….you don’t mean…. It’s not THE Dr. Kenneth Fan, the renowned poet laureate of China?
Johnny: (condescendingly) Funny you should ask……..yes, yes it is. We are old friends. And don’t interrupt me again if you wish this interview to continue.
UltraMom: Sorry. I just can’t believe that you know Dr. Kenneth Fan personally.
Johnny: See for yourself “Dr. Kenneth Fan, the renowned poet laureate of the Republic of China and our convention superstar has asked that you walk with him in our Famous Poets Parade! As Our Grand Marshall, he invites you to bring a poem of peace to release “on the wings of Pegasus” during our Famous Poets for Peace Balloonathon. Your poem is your message of love to the world. Hundreds of balloons will be released at once with poems tied to them, making a rainbow of poetry in the sky.” AND Dr. Fan is SO excited about my coming to the convention and walking with him in the Parade and Balloonathon that he is offering me a $100 Scholarship, PLUS $100 for any guest I bring (use enclosed coupon).
UltraMom (rapturously) Wow! I am almost speechless. Can you tell us a little about your career as a poet and this amazing poem “Depression”?
Johnny: I’ve always kind of liked poems. Except for those ones they made us read in English class all the time. Okay, I can’t really remember off hand any poems I liked, but I’m sure there were some. I also don’t remember much about my poem, except that it was really good and I sent it off to a magazine one time.
UltaMom: Well, no matter. You have always been good with words. Just out of curiosity, have you ever reached the levels of Thesaurus Rex and Super Dictionarium in the Bookworm game?
Johnny (looking confused): No. Why do you ask?
UltraMom (smugly): Oh, no reason. Let’s get back to the Balloonathon. What else is going on at the big Poets Convention?
Johnny: Oh, you know. I could win the $50,000 poetry contest. And with all her heart Lavender Aurora wants ME to win this contest! I just send in my poem, of 21 lines or less, and make sure it can be read in less than a minute. Listen to this: Ahem “As part of our Famous Poets Master Workshop you will be invited to read your contest poem aloud! Our instructor Al D’Andrea for all his eminence is as comfortable as an old shoe. When you complete your workshop, you will be awarded with the most handsome diploma you have ever seen. No calligrapher will ever pen your name so beautifully again!”
UltraMom: It all sounds just too wonderful for words. I’m sure you will make us all proud. You will be attending, I presume?
Johnny: Well, unfortunately, I have a previous commitment or two. Unless you would like to donate the $495 registration fee and spring for a round trip plane ticket to Orlando, Florida?
UltraMom: Er, Um, You had better honor your other commitments. I’m so proud of you for keeping your priorities in order. Well, look at the time.. Thanks so much, Johnny. This concludes our interview. Good day.

Of Dogs and Mortality

I regret to say that this post will be of a somber note as I contemplate the eminent departure of a dear little dog who has been an integral part of our family for many, many years. Frankie, a little wire-haired terrier has the incurable medical conditions of congestive heart failure and a partially collapsed trachea. We have known of this diagnosis for about a year, and until recently, have been managing it (sort of) with medications. His most obvious symptom is a frequent, barking cough, but the scariest one manifests itself when Frankie is over-excited, usually at the arrival of a loved family member. He collapses on his side as if dead, unable to get enough air. But after he calms down a bit, he comes out of it and acts normal again. Well, now the poor little guy coughs all the time, and can hardly walk. He won’t even try to get outdoors to “use the facilities” any more, and that particular type of house cleanup has become routine around here. For about a week he has refused to eat his expensive “heart diet” canned dog food (wherein we hide the pills), and now is even refusing the contraband canned cat food he so coveted before. Such is his importance in the family that Johnny was ready, after I called him about 8:30 tonight, to come straight home, a one hour drive, so that he might see Frankie alive once more. I persuaded him to wait til tomorrow, and hope that won’t be too late.

Side note: (Well, I always seem to underestimate the little fellow. I was touched when he lumbered in here to assume his favorite position of lying by my feet under the computer desk. He even deigned to eat a little of that aforementioned cat food. And then, suddenly, a flash, a noise, and my computer was dead! I finally figured out that Frankie must have hit the master power switch on the surge protector with his foot! I am so proud of Microsoft Word for saving, without being told to, most of my document!) We inherited Frankie on the death of his “Dad”, who also happens to be my husband, John’s Dad. It seemed that promising to take care of his dog was the least we could do for Dad, who was dying of liver cancer. Frankie’s full and complete name is “Francis Xavier Macintosh McDonald”. I used to tease Dad and tell him that I thought he should have named the dog “FrankEinstein” because he was so smart. The funny thing was that we had watched Frankie for Dad before, and if we weren’t vigilant, the little tyke would always run “home” (about 2 miles away), and we would have to go chase him down. But Frankie was present at Dad’s death, and as devoted as he was in life, afterwards he never ran away or even seemed to look for his master. I always thought he somehow knew.
I was the one who “found” Frankie for him. Dad was lost and lonely at the unexpected death of his wife, John’s mother. I spotted this little puppy in a pet store in Idaho Falls; he was the spitting image of another dog that Dad had owned when my kids were small. Willie was one of the smartest dogs I have ever known. He had a houseful of toys, and if his “Mom and Dad” mentioned that the grandkids were coming over, he would hide his favorites. Willie had a friction-powered car, and he used to run down the hallway with a paw on top of the car. He would try to steal his own gifts from under the Christmas tree, but never touch the others. And he was a fanatical “fetcher”; sticks, rocks, whatever he could find. Willie wasn’t a good “kid’s dog” and often growled at the grandkids, showing all his teeth. Little Bobby thought this was a wonderful game, and would shove his little fingers in Willie’s face, jerking them back as the dog snapped at him, shrieking with laughter. Of course that all came to an end one day when Willie actually connected…….
Frankie, so like Willie physically, was totally UNLIKE him in every other way. Frankie’s main joys in life were eating and running. He never showed any interest in doggy toys, unless they could also be chewed (much like Johnny, I guess….”Can my eat it?”). He was very slow to housebreak, and many an irritating diatribe was directed at me about “this dog you found me.” Frankie was well known at the café in Howe where the men all gathered for coffee. Dad would leave Frankie in the car with the window rolled partially down, and he would loudly announce, with loud and prolonged barking, each new arrival (and many other things we could never quite figure out.) Once in a while, Dad would go out to the car, and kind of whap the dog with his hat and yell “Shut Up”, but he never did. Now, for many years, he has been our dog. He has a special affection for my husband John, but loves all of us, and most anyone else who will give him a little attention. He loved to ride on the irrigation motorcycle in front of John as they went out into the fields to check the crops. He loved to run circles around the house, as we “oohed and aahed” at his great speed. He loved to be petted and fussed over and beg for table scraps. Bob, remember the game you and UltraGirl were playing with him last fall when you visited? You would pretend to be a mean guy coming to get her, and Frankie would rush at you growling, but would instantly call off his attack for a belly rub. Now he can barely walk two steps without stopping to rest. Maybe someday I will have another dog. Any some day I will tell you about the other dogs in my life. But today it’s Frankie’s turn. He’s still here, but I miss him already.
UltraMom