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Happy trails back to lost acquaintances I followed a link from Scripting News, to half of the lovely couple, who was blogging a blogging conference today in Some Carolina. Ruby referred to a panelist, George Curry, whom I knew a long long time ago when I lived in St. Louis and he was a reporter for the Globe-Democrat. George wasn't on the education beat when I worked in PR for the St. Louis Board of Education, but it seems like I knew him somehow from work, and also from another angle through my friend Tessa. I think I only really hung out with him once, but it was fairly memorable. I have a 25-year-old memory of this sort of gonzo night that's foggy in some details and very bright and vivid in others. Tessa and I had been having our annual birthday dinner at Balaban's. (Aw, they don't have Hangtown Fries on the brunch menu anymore. I used to love that. Undescriptive name; it was scrambled eggs and oysters.) We rousted George out of his apartment without calling. Tessa was going out with him at the time. For some reason we went down to the Mississippi riverfront, not a city riverfront, but a marshy buggy bank. God knows why. We all ended up at my place and played Spades until near dawn. George and I were on opposite teams. I recall being in the zone and George was a little pissed. He liked winning, and I am not a gracious winner. It was all very good natured but we were playing in earnest and the time went by quickly with nobody getting tired. I never do stuff like that anymore. I don't think I've played cards for 15 years. OPT Check this out. It's nice that they send a special email to give you a chance to opt out. But who's the direct response copywriter who never read the Cluetrain Manifesto? Who thought they could get away with this outlandish premise: We are committed to selling your email address. By couching it the way you have, you think I'm supposed to be duped into feeling grateful to you for this? Come on! Give me credit for having half a brain.
You know what is the more likely scenario in most organizations? The copywriter knew better than to try this, but the person who approved the copy introduced the con job. The Approver could be most anybody, probably not the writer's boss. On that particular day, the writer or the writer's boss didn't feel like arguing with The Approver and caved. Approvers can be a positive force if they are not the kind of people who generally prefer to say no. (Like in the Capital One commercials?) I've often thought, when I see an out-of-the-way, risk-taking bit of marketing, that it's not the creative folks who should get even half the credit. It's the person who let it happen. Most companies are full of people whose prudence only gets in the way. Brrrr! Time to break out the coats. It doesn't look like we will have much of a fall in Chicago this year. The temp dropped from the 80s to the 50s in one day. I like the fall. I'll miss it. Saturday through Monday I'm headed to my hometown in Michigan, where I usually enjoy seeing the leaves at this time of year. For the last 10 years I've celebrated Christmas with my parents, brother and sis-in-law in October, before my folks leave for Florida for the winter. This will be the first year that neither of my kids will come. It's happened before that one or the other couldn't make it, but this makes me feel more than twice as unaccompanied. It's the harbinger of the emtpy nest. I don't think I'll mind it, and may thrive on it; I've always liked and needed to have lots of time alone -- too much, my would-be makeover artists have said. But they don't get to decide, do they? |
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