Thank You, Mrs. Konigsburg (and Ross)

E.L. Konigsburg with son Ross and me, Oct. 1967

I never thought of it before today but, as a child, my two favorite authors both published under their initials: E.B. White (whose spider’s woven vocabulary lesson inspired this blog’s name) and E.L. Konigsburg, who died on Friday at age 83. I never met the creator of Charlotte, Wilbur, and Stuart, but I did have good fortune to meet Elaine Lobl Konigsburg, in 1967, because her son, Ross, was one of my grade school classmates. Her first two books were published the same year, and she came to our school library for a special reading and book-signing event.

I remember vividly the confusing mix of embarrassment and pride I felt when I was pulled off the afternoon school bus to pose for a photo with Ross and his mother. The bus driver had to wait for a good ten minutes while the photographer fiddled with his flash and repositioned us around a table stacked with books to get the shot just right. I knew, and the other kids waiting on the bus to go home surely suspected, that we had all been delayed because Ross had a crush on me. My embarrassment and confusion were compounded the next day when the photo appeared in the local newspaper, and my mother wondered aloud why the photographer hadn’t directed me to tuck the stray lock of hair behind my ear. There I was, hair astray, pictured with shy, nerdy Ross, when, like every girl in our class, I had fallen hard for Dick Still, whose All-American good looks and athleticism crowned him our golden prince right through our 6^th grade graduation. (Forgive me, Ross, if you ever stumble across this post. I’m sure we’ve both come a long way since 3^rd grade!)

Gimme Shelter, in Place

I swear, I’ll never complain about the traffic in Harvard Square again.

Yesterday, pre-lockdown, I was drafting a reflection on why I’ve always resisted self-identifying as a Bostonian. This is where I left off:

I wasn’t anywhere near the finish line of this year’s Boston Marathon, and even if I hadn’t been out of town, I never would have braved the crowds in Copley Square to be there. Nothing against the runners, I steer clear of Boston’s other signature events, too. I don’t have the slightest interest in attending First Night, the St. Patrick’s Day Parade, or the July 4^th Pops concert and fireworks on the Esplanade. I just can’t stand large crowds.

So, where was I on Marathon Monday? In tranquil midtown Manhattan, at Museum of Modern Art, along with throngs of others taking in the “Inventing Abstraction” exhibit. Critically acclaimed and set to close the next day, the show documented the explosion in the art world that began 100 years ago and radically changed how we see the world. Nothing would be the same after 1913, in art or geo-politics.

Leaning In with the Women of Mad Men

Like many rabid Mad Men fans, I’ve been pre-gaming for the April 7 kickoff of Season 6 by re-watching Season 5. And, like many of my girlfriends, I’ve also been reading and thinking about Lean In, Facebook executive Sheryl Sandberg’s new playbook for professional women. In Sandberg’s view, the office playing field hasn’t leveled off nearly enough for women in the 40-plus years since Mad Men heroines Peggy Olson and Joan Harris were the female standard bearers at Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce – and, Sandberg asserts, instead of whining that the game is (still) rigged, today’s women simply need to “lean in” harder. Watching Mad Men has given me a new appreciation for how hard Peggy and Joan had to lean in back in their day, and reading Sandberg’s book has given me a new lens through which to view their actions.

So, let’s listen in on a “Lean In Circle” facilitated by author Sheryl Sandberg, as Peggy and Joan relate their progress moving the ball down the career field. The circle’s meeting takes place immediately following Episode 11 of Season 5 (“The Other Woman”).

Snapshots of a Summer

Edinburgh Fountain and Castle

Someone, probably my mother, once told me, “When you’re traveling, remember to take photos with people you know in them. In a few years you won’t be interested in looking at pictures of buildings or landscapes, and no one else will either.” Great advice. I wish I’d listened.

Now, sifting through a long-lost shoebox of snapshots from my first trip to Europe, I hear those words echo, as I realize how many photos I have of buildings and landscapes, and how few I took of the two college friends I traveled with the summer after we graduated, in 1981.

Missed Connections, Manhattan, 1981-2011

"Don't even *try* to compete with these boots of mine, 'cause there's nothing else like them." Photo: Ed Yourdon, Aug. 2011

Fast Walker with Nice Eyes – w4m – 22 (Upper East Side)
Date: 1981-11-22, 8:45AM EST

We’ve seen each other nearly every morning this fall, walking down Lexington Avenue to work. We both walk faster than everyone else. This morning, as you peeled off east down 47th Street, you glanced over your shoulder. Our eyes met, briefly. I wonder if you could tell I was blushing as I mouthed, “Bye.”

If Craigslist had existed thirty years ago, I might have posted this chance encounter under “Missed Connections.” Instead, I dutifully recorded it in my diary. These days, a missed connection is a solvable problem (post it on Craigslist!), but back then missed connections were the norm.

Breaking the Code

My very own QR

Black and white is hot this fall. I learned this from Bill Cunningham’s video journal from fashion week in Paris, where unseasonably hot and humid weather during la rentrée had the likes of Anna Wintour stripping down to their $500 T-shirts.

Closer to home, I’ve spotted a more affordable black and white trend this fall: QR (quick response) codes. Like bar codes on a bad hair day, these little square patterns are this year’s must-have accessory. Once you’ve trained your eye to look for QRs, you’ll start to notice them all over the place. The staid bar code is so “out,” as Heidi Klum would say; QR codes are the future of advertising and promotion. That’s what fashion-forward marketers would like us to think, at least.

On This Day in…

Along with reminders about friends’ birthdays, upcoming events, suggestions for people to friend and pages to like and, of course, sponsored ads, Facebook’s marginalia now includes a category entitled, “On This Day in 2010” that displays flotsam and jetsam plucked from the sea of our own posts exactly one year prior. My friends’ “Previous Status Updates” are salvaged in the same screen area, though there doesn’t appear to be any rhyme or reason to their selection, chronological or otherwise. Long-forgotten posts wash in with the tide like messages in a bottle.

I try to tune out the auto-generated noise on Facebook’s right side, so I didn’t notice when this insidious memory aid made its unheralded debut – when it comes to inventing new ways to mine our personal data, Facebook reserves the pre-modern woman’s prerogative to change her mind; by this day next year, this retrospective rubric may well be ancient history in social media terms. In the meantime, it underscores the irony of archiving our Facebook ephemera.