This Girl

Well, folks, the Rapture has come to pass and I am still here. Best I make the most of it, right? It is quite likely that God said "That's it! I was going to start the Rapture on May 21st, but now that some guy down there thinks he knows the hour and the day, I'm not going to do it. They'll just have to wait!" However, I still can't help admitting that all the hoopla was a cause for reflection for me. And I did so, in the middle of a Keynote address at a Microbiology conference in New Orleans. Somewhere between being mired in the grandeur of gut microbiology and considering whether or not I agreed that Lamarck was right, I thought about my meager existence. For a split second. And when the ground didn't open up and swallow NOLA whole--Po' Boys, Hurricanes, Beignets, Chicory coffee and all--I forgot about it. But then, being surrounded by really smart people, I began to reflect once more. (Of course, one trip down Bourbon Street and the smartness disint

 If there were ever a more misunderstood and under appreciated concept than communication, it would be news to me. If communication were a cartoon character, it would be Charlie Brown. Lonely. Moody. Disgruntled. Unheard. Confused. Good intended. And occasionally, it would make people so happy, they would carry it around on their shoulders while yelling, “Hoo-Rah!” But communication is not a cartoon character. It is a word. And it’s complicated. For starters, it’s five syllables long. Really? The word that describes the act of sharing ideas, thoughts and opinions is five syllables long? That’s four too many. And look at the phonetic spelling: [k uh -myoo-ni- key -sh uh n]. What the? Hooked on phonics? No thanks. I think I’ll pass. Did Dick and Jane ever communicate? No! They saw. They ran. They looked. They played. They worked (apparently that book series was written before child labor laws were enacted). Simple words for simple concepts to help us learn what should be a sim

I finally get it. It took 36 years, but I finally get it. The other day I was asked my age. You would think that I was asked who the 16th president was. Or how many light years are in a year. Or what time train A arrives at Station B if it leaves Station Z traveling 43 mph, is traveling west with strong headwinds, and has to stop to allow train X to cross the track. But no, I was just asked how old I was. I was so flustered that I could not even subtract my birth year from the current. All I could remember is that I am 3 years younger than my husband and he just had a birthday. From that, I was able to deduce my current age. Looking back to my youth, I finally get how my Mom could be 39 five years in a row. Again, being slow on the uptake as a kid, it took me 5 years to realize something wasn't quite right. Back then, it was a "woman thing" not to tell your age. I don't think this was a "woman thing". Nor was it a brush off from a woman who apparently did