Home, Not Alone

About twenty years ago I decided to give up my staff job and go into business for myself. I remember that on my first day of independence, I slept late, took a leisurely walk to the store, and a nap in the afternoon. I did much the same on the second day. However, things changed on the third day, when I woke up in cold sweat and realized that I was totally, completely unemployed. I had no regular income, no systems in place to support a business, let alone the business it was to support. Thankfully, the tide turned... though it was three years before I stopped picking up my phone every hour to make sure there was still a dial tone.

Part of that paranoia was related to the tenor of the time. At that juncture, the business economy was just beginning to shift from a staff model to a freelance model. Sure, there were consultants who went from company to company, but they were generally fielded by some big firm who employed legions of them. They adhered to a certain model in their own right, and had a home office with all of the trappings. None of them had their international headquarters on a butcher-block bar on green shag carpeting at the end of the living room.

Added to my own personal lack of infrastructure was the reality that many of the tools we now take for granted were unavailable or unacceptable. Email didn't exist. Answering machines and voicemail were seen as evidence of someone not prosperous enough to have a receptionist or secretary. An address not on a major street or in a downtown business center marked you as a minor leaguer at best. And a technology called telefax was the only way to move paper short of a messenger... but no one had the machines.

Well, a lot has changed. Between mergers, acquisitions, downsizing and telecommuting, not to mention the technology of the internet and wireless, the state of the art has been stood on its head. No longer are the lone rangers of the business world operating against the grain. Rather, more and more people are proud to call themselves independents, freelancers, self-employed or contract workers. Indeed, it is the staff person who seems more and more to be an anachronism in the current economy.

Those us who have made the transition to being our own bosses have learned along the way how to function efficiently. The good news is that we've had time to evolve the model as our businesses have grown and changed, and the world along with it. But that's not the case for tens of thousands of workers displaced by the events of September 11. Research analysts are looking up historical models from the computers in their kid's rooms. Directors of marketing are recreating quarterly launch plans from an end table in their bedroom next to the TV. Heads of sales are banging our proposals from a new laptop in between the ping-pong table and the Nintendo. Throughout the metropolitan area, white-collar refugees are streaming to CompUSA for computer tables like Afghans through the Khyber Pass.

And so as a public service, let me pass on to those affected some tips accumulated over years of working out of a home office. Sure, there are the purely practical matters... find a workspace you can call your own, put in an extra phone line dedicated to your business, make sure your computer and printer are up to snuff. But there are many others that aren't so apparent on first blush, methodologies that only emerge after a few years of doing battle in your flip-flops and tee shirt.

Wherever your office is, make sure there is a door between it and the rest of your life. Remember that great feeling your had at 5PM on a Friday when it was time to go home, and you realized that you could walk away from your desk and all the problems it held? Well, that's impossible to achieve if every time you lay down on the couch to watch TV or sit down in the den with a book you see a mound of paperwork staring you in the face. All the experts talk about being able to achieve a balance in your life between work and play. And that's impossible to do if your quarterly plan is staring you in the face when Michael Jordan's first game back is on the tube.

Find the grocery list in your house and add baby carrots and no-fat pretzels to the bottom. That's because if the second casualty in war is fidelity and the third is sobriety, in this new war the fourth is most assuredly your waistline. At the office, when you needed a break, you took a stroll to the water cooler or the coffee machine. You lost time, not gained calories. But when you're working at home, the destination is more likely to be the refrigerator. Don't be surprised if you gain a few pounds while working on that new business proposal.

Train your family that when you're in the office or on the phone that you are off limits. TV commercials would have you believe that one of the benefits of having a home office is that your kids can come in and strike adorable poses while you're having a conference call. It doesn't work. Nor does having your dog bark or the guy cutting the lawn or the electronic mayhem of Final Fantasy IV in the background. Maybe you could concentrate on your paper in college while your roommate was blasting the Stones and dancing around the room in his underwear. But odds are, your powers of concentration have diminished somewhat over the years.

That being said, there are lots of positives to working from home, once you get the hang of it. You can play hooky to take a hike or shoot some hoops at 2PM, knowing that you can make up the time at night. If the forecast for the weekend is lousy, you can time shift to play a little tennis on Friday and catch up on Saturday during the monsoon. And you can dress for comfort, taking business casual to new highs... or lows, depending on your point of view.

It's a matter of adapting to a new environment. That process has been known to drive some to drink. But done correctly, to paraphrase Thomas Wolfe, you can work at home again.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford gets lots done in his office while "Friends" is on in the other room. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review and The Scarsdale Inquirer.

Soldiers of Retail

OK, so you can't speak Pashto. And the guy at the recruiting station just laughed when you went in to sign up. Your foreign intelligence sources are your Guatemalan gardener and your favorite sushi chef. You already screen the mail and throw out most of it, but that's because it's people looking for money. And your idea of homeland security is deer fencing to protect your rhododendrons.

While we'd all like to contribute, the reality is that most of the action in the war is taking place five or six times zone away, far removed from our daily routine. Pilots are flying day and night sorties, and Special Forces troops are going cave to cave looking for a six foot guy with 4 wives. But what about you? Is there really anything... I mean, anything... that you can do to make a contribution to the war effort? After all, the President has said that it's up to every citizen to pitch in. Sure, you can help out in a soup kitchen, or start a neighborhood watch, or build shelters for the homeless. All worthy endeavors, to be sure, but none specifically linked to the action overseas.

But you don't have to feel irrelevant quite yet. For there's one thing that every one of us can do, regardless of location or ability or income. In Kansas City and Chicago, in Ithaca and Duluth, citizen soldiers can come out of their bunkers and get moving, doing what they do best. After all, as the old maxim says, when the going gets tough, the tough go shopping.

That's right. As a reaffirmation of our way of life, you have to get out there and do your part to keep the economy healthy. Forget cruise missiles and daisy cutters. Nothing will show those fanatics that we mean business as much as an overloaded American Express bill. As the Xmas season begins, it is incumbent on every individual to dig deep down, and buy the most useless things they can think of to put under the tree and next to the candles. For whether you're Christian or Jewish, Moslem or Buddhist, our bond as Americans is based not so much on liberty or freedom, but on our common desire to have shiny new toys from Santa.

What you buy is less important than that you buy. But recognizing that protecting our way of life requires many different props, following is a selection is war materiel accessible to the average citizen, and available wherever fine toys are sold. Act fast: you never know when the DOD will restrict purchases for purposes of national security.

For instance, maybe you're boning up on international treaties so as to be able to participate in the ongoing debate about power sharing in the new Afghanistan. In your reading, you find yourself confused as to the homelands of the Tajiks, Uzbeks and Shia Hazaras that formed the government that collapsed in 1996, enabling the Taliban to take power. Sure, you could stop what you were doing, and run to your computer to do a little research. Or you could use your handy Zelco Bookmark Dictionary that you have stuck in the next chapter. This wafer thin device not only marks your page, but also contains a keypad and display, enabling you to access its 50,000-word dictionary. At only $40, you can afford to buy one for yourself, as well as send one to Tom Ridge, so he can look up "superfluous."

Like many of us, maybe you feel it's important to be able to move quickly should the need arise. If so, then get out there and get yourself a set of Heelys. They may look like regular sneakers. But flip them over and snap a single high performance wheel to the heel plate, and before you can say "Moonwalk," you'll be gliding and spinning. At about $100 a pair, they give you that quick mobility needed to stay one step ahead of terrorists.

Or perhaps you're a little concerned that the neighbors are building a nuclear device next door... or if not that, their French au pair must be monitored during her morning aerobics routine for signs of subversive activity Do your part for the country while keeping a watchful eye over the fence with a SkyDoc camera surveillance system. This $16,000 tethered balloon and video camera combination operates at about 300 feet, and enables you to pan, tilt and zoom into the smallest detail, whether it be a plutonium trigger or that cute dimple on her cheek. Careful...it could be a disguise.

Finally, maybe you're entertaining a group of friends, one of which you suspect of being an agent for the Evildoer himself. You cleverly offer all in attendance a glass of wine, fully expecting to lift his prints from the glass and fax them over to Interpol for investigation. But when you leave the room, a helpful guest collects all the glasses to bring to the kitchen for cleanup. Which was his? Well, if you were using the Wine Glass Identifier, you'd have no question. This set of detachable charms hangs around the neck of your wine bottle. As you serve a glass, you snap a charm off the bottle and onto the stem of the glass. Then each person can identify their drink much as they would a Monopoly piece. With prices starting at just $12 a set, identifying fanatics has never been so economical.

So don't just sit there; do your duty as a citizen. On this, the official start of the holiday season, get out there and put down your credit card for America. As they say in the Marines, spend, maggot, spend. And remember, you're not doing it for yourself; you're doing it for the country.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford is running up his credit card bills this season, if only to be viewed as a patriot. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review and The Scarsdale Inquirer.

Breakfast at Target

The Baltimore Ravens play at PSINet Stadium. Tiger Woods competes at the Buick Classic. Wal-Mart brings you The Backstreet Boys. Those are just a few examples where company names festoon arenas, sporting events and music tours, endeavors where the name of the main act used to run solo. Yet, considering the costs, it's not surprising that the responsible parties would look to maximize their profit and minimize their risk by having a little corporate backing. Don't call it selling out; call it reaching out.

You can theorize that it's just the next logical step in the history of advertising. First came commercials. But those have become so pervasive as to be rendered invisible and therefore all but worthless. Then came product placements. There we see a car or computer or cell phone prominently placed in a scene, offering a not-so-subliminal hint to the viewer. But would you run out and buy an Apple Powerbook just because Tom Cruise uses one? Or do the same for the Nokia phone that Julia Roberts sports? Or the new BMW driven by Pierce Brosnan? Considering the cost of the appearance, the ad guys certainly hope so... but it's not likely.

But these are both the height of subtlety considering the ground being broken this season. For starters, there's Fay Weldon's new novel, due to be released this fall. In it, the best selling novelist doesn't just make reference to endorsable products... she sets the whole story in one. "The Bulgari Connection," her new mystery, was commissioned by the jewelry retailer to celebrate the opening of a new store in London. Weldon decided to call a spade a spade after she signed a contract with Bulgari for a minimum number of product mentions in the story. The, rather than simply slipping a few references into the plot, she created the ultimate coffee table vanity book for Paolo and Nicola Bulgari, respectively Chairman and Vice-Chairman of the company,

All this is fair enough. After all, for years artists and photographers have been commissioned by commercial ventures to create materials used in ads. The only difference here is that Weldon is now choosing to release the book to the general public and charging for it again, in effect getting two for the price of one. However, it's not like the literary police are going to come and take her away. As she says, "Have I betrayed the sacred name of literature? Well, what the heck!"

And then there's the joint promotion coming from the TNT Cable Network and Kimberly-Clark. On the face of it, it's hardly surprising. After all, there is a long history of major corporate support for television programming beyond plain old commercials, as in the "The U.S. Steel Hour," "General Electric Theatre" and "The Hallmark Hall of Fame." But in each of those instances, the company in question lent its name and money to a programming series unrelated to its specific business. An association with quality was all they were after, one that would hopefully rub off on their image.

Contrast that with what Kimberly-Clark, the maker of Kleenex brand tissues has done. They will be the exclusive yearlong sponsor of a series of movies, all picked because they're tearjerkers. Each film... still to be selected, but expected to include such offerings as "An Officer and A Gentleman" and "Steel Magnolias..." will be the kind calculated to make you cry tears of joy or sadness. They will feature a "Kleenex Rating System," giving viewers an idea of just how many tissues they'll need in the course of the broadcast. The goal is simple: to make a box of tissues as indispensable when you're watching a movie as a bowl of popcorn and a giant box of jujubes.

This opens up all kinds of advertising gambits. Sure, we see pickup trucks advertised during football games, and even pots and pans during cooking shows. But just as Weldon's book shilled shamelessly for a retailer and Kleenex is ranking films on the basis of the need for their product, so too might we begin to see the connection between content and sponsor get a little chummier. Not as simple as "Sex and the City" being brought to you by Ortho, the makers of birth control pills, or pharmaceutical firms sponsoring "ER," we'll see the plots thoroughly intertwined with the products... to the point that you won't be able to tell them apart.

Up till now it's been a causal relationship at most. Sure, the Plaza Hotel was featured in "Home Alone 2" and no doubt money changed hands. But there was still a storyline that was independent of the property. Are we in for dismissing the plot lines in favor of primetime infomercials? Put another way, would Audrey Hepburn have been just as glamorous in "Breakfast at Target?"

It's only a matter of time until it becomes routine. In that light, you can expect the opening of "Law & Order" to begin, "In the criminal justice system, the people are represented by two separate yet equally important groups. The police, who work with agencies like McGowan Detectives, specializing in domestic dispute cases for 30 years... 'We get our man and your alimony, every time,' says Buzz McGowan, company founder... and the district attorneys who prosecute the offenders, successfully represented by Dewey Cheatum and Howe, defenders of everything from shoplifting to murder one. These are their stories.... and here their phone numbers. Operators are standing by."

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Marc Wollin of Bedford is willing to talk to potential sponsors of this space. Paragraphs can be had cheap. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review and The Scarsdale Inquirer.

You Meet The Strangest People

In "John Adams," David McCullough's biography of the second president, much of the story is told through excerpts from letters sent to and from the sage of Braintree. In an era when there was no phone or email, the only way to communicate was to take quill in hand and set down every detail, nuance and thought, summon a post rider, and dispatch the missive to its reader. Depending on the distance it needed to travel, it could take days, weeks or even months before the letter reached its destination, and at least an equal amount of time for the reader to respond. The bad news was that often the contents in question were rendered irrelevant by the time the letter arrived. The good news, however, is that if the letters survived, we have an exquisite written record of the events of the day that transpired.

Contrast that, if you will, with the way we communicate today. The postal system, once the pride and joy of the country, has been reduced to carrying credit card offers, bills and birthday cards. Far more data is transmitted... almost instantaneously... by voice, by fax and by email. And while it sure is quick, it's not always of the "When in the course of human events" quality. Additionally, the very nature of instantaneous communication with unseen parties creates the possibility of misunderstandings... and worse... as the following might illustrate.

A word of caution, however, is in order. To paraphrase that old police show, while the facts are true, the names have bee changed to protect the innocent from my stupidity.

Over a year ago we were having dinner with a group of friends in a noisy restaurant. One person wanted to send an article of interest to another, and email was deemed the fastest, most appropriate means available. Over the din, internet handles were swapped. I took note, as I'm always looking to keep my address book up to date, as well as find other innocent souls upon whom I can inflict this column (which I distribute weekly via email as well as publish in the paper).

Now, I know I had had a glass or two of wine, and wasn't paying complete attention. But I was sure I heard Betty say her email address was "CookBetty." And since Betty is a professional cook, this made perfect sense. I had some more sangria, some more tapas, and enjoyed the rest of the evening.

When I went to my office on Monday morning, I sent Betty a note that, with her permission, I was adding her name to my distribution list. And I dutifully did so, regaling her weekly as I do to all you other hapless victims who are regular readers of this space. No communication was heard from her end... but this was not unusual, and so I thought nothing of it.

As the calendar turned, we saw Betty and her husband on and off, and I would occasionally fire off an email to her, commenting on something she said over drinks or at dinner. She never responded, but again, this wasn't too unusual... after all, some folks are writers and some are not. Then Betty came and borrowed a bunch of books to take on vacation. A month of so later, I was looking for one volume, remembered she had taken it, and jotted a quick missive to the effect of "are you finished?" She wrote back: "What books?" Now Betty is known to be droll, but this was breaking new ground. I puzzled over it and let it ride, not wanting to endanger a friendship over something so trivial. When next we saw her, I mentioned the books. She apologized for the delay, and readily returned them. No mention was made of any of the electronic exchanges.

Occasionally, over the course of the year, I got an unprompted response to a column from Betty. While they were always short, they were also always just a little "off" considering the Betty I knew. Regardless, as I try to do with all comments, I quickly wrote back, referencing the comments she made, and making some personal aside about her husband or kids or life, all of which I knew fairly well. She never wrote back, but once again, this never stuck me as the least unusual.

Recently, I tagged a column with a line about my admiration for the TV show "MASH." Betty jotted a quick note back, saying how she too enjoyed it, "watching it with her husband in the morning when they got up." Now, I know Betty's husband by first name... and I know that Betty is not an early riser unless she has to, certainly not to get up to watch TV reruns. The proverbial straw was just about breaking the camel's back.

After thinking about it, I idly punched up the profile registered to "CookBetty." And lo and behold, the person described was not my pal, who lives 5 minutes from us, has two kids and is a professional chef. Rather, it was a newlywed from the Midwest, who cooks as a hobby. A quick call down the road confirmed it: my friend was "BettyCook" and not "CookBetty." For 15 months I had been engaged in a running dialogue with a woman 1800 miles away I had never seen nor met, who didn't know me nor I her, who chanced across my path through a dyslexic typing event. She had been receiving weekly missives she never thought to question, and we both swapped witty asides that more often than not didn't seem so witty. I'm lucky she didn't call the cops.

I laid this all out in a note that I promptly sent to CookBetty. Her response: "Now it all makes sense!" BettyCook had the same reaction. Luckily, no harm was done; I didn't alienate an old friend, I made a new one... and added two more sets of eyeballs to my mailing list.

The lesson? Check your spelling? Know your audience? If you don't have something good to say, don't say it? All true. But I prefer to keep in mind a simpler view courtesy of Eugene O'Neil in "Anna Christie:" "We're all poor nuts and things happen, and we just get mixed up wrong, that's all."

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Marc Wollin of Bedford loves to meet people... as long as he doesn't have to actually talk with them. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review and The Scarsdale Inquirer.

Milepost 300

As I sat down to pen this 300th installment of Glancing Askance, I paused to reflect on the act of filling this space on a regular basis. Perhaps the biggest challenge is simply that... filling the space. It's easy to think of ideas that might be of interest to the general audience. It's much harder to develop those ideas into readable selections that might strike a chord. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn't. But there's an old saying that everything changes except the deadline. And so absent an act of God, every week for the last five and a half years I have delivered to my editor on Monday morning roughly a thousand printable words whether it's Pulitzer Prize material or...far more likely...not.

To fill this insatiable maw, I keep an idea file. It includes snippets of newspaper articles that strike my fancy, random jottings that reflect stray thoughts, email ideas sent to me by readers, notes of sayings or comments from friends and associates... any of which provide grist for the mill. Once called onto the screen, some develop into sturdy plants, while others poke up but a few inches, showing promise but never fruit.

Now, as my wife will attest, I have a brown thumb. My version of gardening is to never cut anything back that shows the slightest signs of life. As such, my file is filled with much deadwood in the form of half formed columns. Some are but a few sentences. Others extend to a few paragraphs. Still others are lacking merely a conclusion. But in my humble view, all involve ideas or concepts that warrant examination, even if I have been unable to do them justice and bring them to fruition.

In that light, following are some examples of those that I haven't been able to develop completely, but was also too squeamish to pronounce dead and buried. Some deserve to see the light of day. Others might be better remaining stillborn. I'll leave it to you to decide.

For instance, I was struck as I was driving along the highway one day by a strange sight. Out of the corner of my eye, I noted one particular tree that towered over the group of which it seemed to be a part. A second glance revealed it to be not a tree at all, but a cell phone tower made to look like a tree. However, it didn't really look like a tree; it looked more like a cell phone tower trying to look like a tree. So exactly who are they... and we... fooling? We all notice it, so it can't be for us. The only explanation is so we can say with a straight face to the next sparrow we chat with, "What do you mean, 'harm your habitat.' I don't think so!"

Or I noted that every person or politician who goes on the road feels they have to identify their journey thematically. Madonna has her "Drowned World" tour. During last year's election, Al Gore was on the "Prosperity Tour," while George W. Bush was on the "Marching to Victory" tour. My personal favorite was in New Jersey, where senate candidate Bob Franks crossed the state in his "Franks On A Roll" tour. Better they should call it what it is, as did the mythical band Stillwater from Cameron Crowe's film, with the "Almost Famous" tour. Perhaps this kind of honesty will continue, and we'll soon see the "Buy My New CD" tour, or the "Please Vote For Me" tour.

And then there's the legend that appears below the masthead of almost every publication that's on the newsstands or in your mailbox today. Regardless of whether it's a general interest sheet or a specialty rag, somewhere near the top is a small italic line of text to this effect: "For the latest news, check our web site at www.ourwebsite.com." Now, for Time or Business Week no one doubts that the events being covered are moving fast. But on other publications, you see similar lines such as "For the latest in breaking public relations news, visit our web site." Breaking public relations news? Such a thing exists? You mean it's possible some flak put out a press release about the fact that he's putting out a press release? Even in Lizzie Grubman's world, one wonders if any public relations news is that time sensitive.

In walking through a flea market in some metropolis somewhere, I passed the normal assortment of stalls selling cheap shirts, shoes, kitchen utensils, underwear and socks. All seemed to make a certain amount of sense for those looking to pick up basic necessities on a budget. But then I came to a guy who had an entire stand devoted to floor mats for cars. Now, I confess that I'm no salesman, but this would seem to be tough nut to franchise. Perhaps this entrepreneurial venture was the result of a marketing study, or an answer to a personal quest, or the fulfillment of a lifelong hobby. In any case, it's likely that the flea market is a good locale to start out, as it is unlikely that the venture capitalists in the crowd would jump aboard.

In a world of tough choices, we are all called upon to make difficult decisions. Judges do this everyday, most often involving weighty issues concerning freedom, custody and the like. So it's refreshing when they are called upon to make a call on more pedestrian items. In New York City, for a variety of political and health reasons, the powers that be banned barbeques at certain parades and festivals. A judge was asked to rule on the pronouncement. Using his best Solomonic wisdom, he neatly divided the baby in half. Ruling from on the high bench, he allowed sausage, hot dogs and hamburgers, yet banned chicken and chicken wings. Is this justice? Not if you're Frank Perdue.

And all that's just a smattering of the stuff lying around my hard drive. As I head into the sixteenth score, expect ruminations on root beer, parental report cards, company songs and the lack of status for the planet Pluto. I'll make a deal with you: you keep reading, I'll keep writing.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford has been filling this space longer than he played Little League. His column appears regularly in The Record Review and The Scarsdale Inquirer.

Back to the Bottle

It's a paradox of life that when you're a kid, you can't wait to be recognized as an adult, while when you're an adult, you yearn to be a kid. That's why there are few things that upset our 14 year old as much as sitting down in a restaurant and being offered a kiddie menu. Or why your day can be made by the simple act of the bartender asking to see your ID. In both cases, it's the reach across a divide that we all yearn to conquer.

That being said, there are certain benefits to either status. Kids get freedom, boundless energy, fun foods and cartoons. Adults get... well... give me a minute. Actually, more and more, there is little that adults have that kids don't, and conversely, few things that are uniquely kid oriented that are off limits to adults. Like the homogenization of the rest of global culture, there is little out of reach for anyone anywhere.

At the frontier of this trend we find the manufacturer Kimberly Clark. After exhaustive market studies, they recently announced that people prefer to be treated as babies once again, at least in certain areas. According to their data, surveys show that one in four Americans use some kind of moist towelette in the loo. Realizing that most of these are hand or baby wipes, and that 50 million plus individuals were adapting them to another use, they saw a market just waiting to be swabbed. And so they committed $100 million to the development and $40 million to the marketing of Cottonelle Fresh Rollwipes, the latest advance in toilet paper.

The basic package consists of a dispenser that hangs above your regular dry toilet paper and four rolls of the product, all of which sell for $8.99. A set of four replacement rolls will cost $3.99, or about a buck a roll. For that you get a product that, to quote DeWitt Paul, the president of a company making a competing product, "Once you start using it, you wonder how you ever got by without it."

The narrow view is that Kimberly Clark saw a market niche and is moving aggressively to exploit it. But conceivably they have discovered something more. We all know that our culture is focused on all things youth... from fashion to music to food to entertainment. Perhaps we just didn't realize how young is young.

In a world looking eternally for the fountain of youth, maybe there is a huge untapped, unrealized wish among consumers out there to go back even further then most of us realize. Up until now, it's been an article of faith that when most Americans pine for those carefree times, they are referring to their teen and college years. That was when they had the most freedoms and the fewest responsibilities. It was a time of endless possibilities, when the predominant answer was at least as likely to be "yes" as "no."

But compare that with Japan, where the predominant pop culture icons are focused back even further. Sociologists who have studied this have theorized that since Japanese society is so regimented, the last time most Japanese felt unencumbered was not as teenagers, but as children. Recapturing their youth means reliving not the teen years, but prepubescent ones. And so when you ride the subway, you see businessmen and women reading comic books and sporting "Hello Kitty" fobs on their cell phones, and teenage girls with knee socks and backpacks shaped liked stuffed animals.

If you buy this line of reasoning, maybe Americans want to go back further still. Being a teenager is and was hard work... all those trends, all that pressure. And at least in these united states, little kids today are at least as scheduled as their big brothers and sisters, with soccer, gymnastics and play dates. So you have to roll back the calendar even further, and recapture those innocent toddler times. After all, in recent years we've seen adults sucking on lollipops shaped like pacifiers, sporting overalls, flocking to animated movies and snacking on baby skinless carrots. Are adult diaper wipes really that much different in concept?

If you're wondering if this is a movement or a flash in the pan, keep your eyes focused on California. From a cultural standpoint, the Left Coast is ground zero for what is hot and what is not. They led the nation with right-on-red, casual Fridays and other seismic shifts to our culture. If and when this movement gains speed, you'll see it on Rodeo Drive and in Malibu first, after which it'll migrate into the entertainment industry. And if you see Brad Pitt taking a role as Tommy in the live action version of "Rugrats," or Raffi appears on "VH1 Hitmakers," you can assume that the rest of the country will soon follow.

Have we defined a new trend here? We'll leave that for Faith Popcorn, John Naisbett and Alvin Toffler to work out, to create those great shorthand phrases such as "Booming Babies" or "Toddler Tendencies." All we can say for sure that the Baby Boomers of today have the money and the where-with-all to get whatever they want. And so if the mascot of the next Olympics turns out to look a binky, don't say we didn't tell you that it was time to invest in Zwieback futures.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford would like to be five again, if only because he likes to dunk his cookies in his milk with no comments from observers. His column appears regularly in The Record Review and The Scarsdale Inquirer.

Home, Not Alone

About twenty years ago I decided to give up my staff job and go into business for myself.  I remember that on my first day of independence, I slept late, took a leisurely walk to the store, and a nap in the afternoon.  I did much the same on the second day.  However, things changed on the third day, when I woke up in cold sweat and realized that I was totally, completely unemployed.  I had no regular income, no systems in place to support a business, let alone the business it was to support.  Thankfully, the tide turned... though it was three years before I stopped picking up my phone every hour to make sure there was still a dial tone.

Part of that paranoia was related to the tenor of the time.  At that juncture, the business economy was just beginning to shift from a staff model to a freelance model.  Sure, there were consultants who went from company to company, but they were generally fielded by some big firm who employed legions of them.  They adhered to a certain model in their own right, and had a home office with all of the trappings. None of them had their international headquarters on a butcher-block bar on green shag carpeting at the end of the living room.

Added to my own personal lack of infrastructure was the reality that many of the tools we now take for granted were unavailable or unacceptable.   Email didn't exist.  Answering machines and voicemail were seen as evidence of someone not prosperous enough to have a receptionist or secretary.  An address not on a major street or in a downtown business center marked you as a minor leaguer at best.   And a technology called telefax was the only way to move paper short of a messenger... but no one had the machines.

Well, a lot has changed.  Between mergers, acquisitions, downsizing and telecommuting, not to mention the technology of the internet and wireless, the state of the art has been stood on its head.  No longer are the lone rangers of the business world operating against the grain.  Rather, more and more people are proud to call themselves independents, freelancers, self-employed or contract workers.  Indeed, it is the staff person who seems more and more to be an anachronism in the current economy.

Those us who have made the transition to being our own bosses have learned along the way how to function efficiently.  The good news is that we've had time to evolve the model as our businesses have grown and changed, and the world along with it.  But that's not the case for tens of thousands of workers displaced by the events of September 11.  Research analysts are looking up historical models from the computers in their kid's rooms.  Directors of marketing are recreating quarterly launch plans from an end table in their bedroom next to the TV.  Heads of sales are banging our proposals from a new laptop in between the ping-pong table and the Nintendo.   Throughout the metropolitan area, white-collar refugees are streaming to CompUSA for computer tables like Afghans through the Khyber Pass.

And so as a public service, let me pass on to those affected some tips accumulated over years of working out of a home office.  Sure, there are the purely practical matters... find a workspace you can call your own, put in an extra phone line dedicated to your business, make sure your computer and printer are up to snuff.   But there are many others that aren't so apparent on first blush, methodologies that only emerge after a few years of doing battle in your flip-flops and tee shirt.

Wherever your office is, make sure there is a door between it and the rest of your life.  Remember that great feeling your had at 5PM on a Friday when it was time to go home, and you realized that you could walk away from your desk and all the problems it held?  Well, that's impossible to achieve if every time you lay down on the couch to watch TV or sit down in the den with a book you see a mound of paperwork staring you in the face.  All the experts talk about being able to achieve a balance in your life between work and play.  And that's impossible to do if your quarterly plan is staring you in the face when Michael Jordan's first game back is on the tube.

Find the grocery list in your house and add baby carrots and no-fat pretzels to the bottom.  That's because if the second casualty in war is fidelity and the third is sobriety, in this new war the fourth is most assuredly your waistline.  At the office, when you needed a break, you took a stroll to the water cooler or the coffee machine.  You lost time, not gained calories.  But when you're working at home, the destination is more likely to be the refrigerator.  Don't be surprised if you gain a few pounds while working on that new business proposal.

Train your family that when you're in the office or on the phone that you are off limits.  TV commercials would have you believe that one of the benefits of having a home office is that your kids can come in and strike adorable poses while you're having a conference call.  It doesn't work.  Nor does having your dog bark or the guy cutting the lawn or the electronic mayhem of Final Fantasy IV in the background.  Maybe you could concentrate on your paper in college while your roommate was blasting the Stones and dancing around the room in his underwear.  But odds are, your powers of concentration have diminished somewhat over the years.

That being said, there are lots of positives to working from home, once you get the hang of it.  You can play hooky to take a hike or shoot some hoops at 2PM, knowing that you can make up the time at night.  If the forecast for the weekend is lousy, you can time shift to play a little tennis on Friday and catch up on Saturday during the monsoon.  And you can dress for comfort, taking business casual to new highs... or lows, depending on your point of view.

It's a matter of adapting to a new environment.  That process has been known to drive some to drink.   But done correctly, to paraphrase Thomas Wolfe, you can work at home again.

-END-

Marc Wollin of Bedford gets lots done in his office while "Friends" is on in the other room.  His column appears regularly in The Record-Review and The Scarsdale Inquirer.

"Guess I Had Your Leavin' Coming"

I generally don't like to simply reprint things I've been sent, but occasionally it's worth the space. And so herein is a list of country song titles which neatly encapsulates the entire spectrum of human relationships. Are they all for real? Well, if they aren't they should be. And the fact that you can't really tell which is which says it all.

Am I Double Parked by the Curbstone of Your Heart?

At the Gas Station of Love, I Got the Self Service Pump.

Did I Shave my Legs for This?

Get Your Biscuits In The Oven, And Your Buns In The Bed.

Guess My Eyes Were Bigger Than My Heart.

Her Only Bad Habit Is Me.

Hold On To Your Men... Cause She's Single Again.

How Can I Miss You if You Won't Go Away?

How Can You Believe Me When I Say I Love You, When You Know I've Been A Liar All My Life?

How Come Your Dog Don't Bite Nobody But Me?

I Don't Know Whether To Kill Myself Or Go Bowling.

I Fell In A Pile Of You And Got Love All Over Me.

I Gave Her My Heart And A Diamond And She Clubbed Me With A Spade.

I Gave Her the Ring, and She Gave Me the Finger.

I Got Tears In My Ears From Lying On My Bed Crying On My Pillow Over You.

I Got Through Everything But The Door.

I Keep Forgettin' I Forgot About You.

I May Be Used, But Baby I Ain't Used Up.

I Still Miss You Baby... But My Aim is Getting Better.

I Wanted You To Leave Until You Left Me.

I Wish I Were A Woman (So I Could Go Out With A Guy Like Me).

I Would Have Wrote You A Letter, But I Couldn't Spell Yuck!

I Wouldn't Take Her To A Dawg Fight, Cause I'm Afraid She'd Win.

If Fingerprints Showed Up On Skin, Wonder Whose I'd Find On You.

If I Ain't Got It, You Don't Need It.

If I Can't Be Number One In Your Life, Then Number Two On You.

If I Were In Your Shoes, I'd Walk Right Back To Me.

If Love Were Oil, I'd Be A Quart Low.

If She Hadn't Been So Good Lookin' I Might Have Seen the Train.

If You Don't Leave Me, I'll Find Someone Who Will.

If You Leave Me, Can I Come Too?

If Whiskey Were A Woman, I'd Be Married For Sure.

I'll Marry You Tomorrow, But Let's Honeymoon Tonight.

I'm Here To Get My Baby Out Of Jail.

I'm The Only Hell Mama Ever Raised.

I've Got $5 And It's Saturday Night.

Lay Something On My Bed Besides A Blanket.

Make Me Late For Work Today.

Mama Get The Hammer (There's A Fly On Papa's Head).

Mommy, Can I Still Call Him Daddy?

My John Deere Was Breaking Your Field, While Your Dear John Was Breaking My Heart.

My Wife Ran Off With My Best Friend, And I Sure Do Miss Him.

My Glasses Are Slipping, But Baby I Can Still See Through You.

Pardon Me, I've Got Someone To Kill.

Pick Me Up On Your Way Down.

She Feels Like A New Man Tonight.

She Made Toothpicks Out Of The Timber Of My Heart.

She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy.

She's Actin' Single... I'm Drinkin' Doubles.

She's Got Freckles On Her, But She's Pretty.

Thank God And Greyhound She's Gone.

Thanks To The Cathouse, I'm In The Doghouse With You.

The Man That Came Between Us (Was Me).

There Ain't Enough Room in my Fruit Of The Looms to Hold All My Lovin' For You.

They May Put Me In Prison, But They Can't Stop My Face From Breakin' Out.

Velcro Arms, Teflon Heart.

Waitin' In Your Welfare Line.

Walk Out Backwards Slowly So I'll Think You're Walking In.

Who's Gonna Mow Your Grass?

Who's Gonna Take The Garbage Out When I'm Dead And Gone?

Whose Bed Have Your Boots Been Under?

You Can't Have Your Kate And Edith Too.

You Done Tore Out My Heart And Stomped That Sucker Flat.

You Were Only A Splinter As I Slid Down The Banister Of Life.

Your Negligee Has Turned To Flannel Nightgowns.

You're a Hard Dog To Keep Under The Porch.

You're Going To Ruin My Bad Reputation.

You're Out Of Step (With The Beat Of My Heart).

You're The Reason Our Kids Are So Ugly.
-END-
Marc Wollin of Bedford has been known to listen to Willy Nelson when no one else is around. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review and The Scarsdale Inquirer.

I Wanna Be Like Her

From clothes to hairstyles, from speech to hand gestures, kids like nothing more than to emulate the people they see in the movies, in music videos and in sports. While there is a certain element of hero worship, to be sure, it is as much about being a fan as it is about simply growing up. That's because at a time when young adults are struggling to find their identity, it's easier to appropriate traits than to define your own. The result is that kids sport Kobe Bryant sneakers, Madonna tee-shirts and Julia Roberts hair.

What's more, youngsters don't always differentiate between the personalities themselves and the parts they play. They want to be as cool as all of the characters on "Dawson's Creek," forgetting that they're watching actors playing roles which are sketched out for dramatic effect. They forget that this is fantasyland: on a day-to-day basis, it's difficult to wear jeans that tight or hair that moussed.

Yet to ignore the effect that these characters have on viewers is to bury your head in the sand. And so recognizing the power that these images have kids, especially young girls, the National Organization of Women, or NOW, decided to shine its own light on one particular image maker, the world of prime time television. To that end, it compiled a list of programs that offer positive role models to young women in today's culture.

Rather than approach the task anecdotally, it created a rating system, bestowing points and demerits in various categories. Over the past year. It has been tracking gender composition, violence, sexual exploitation and social responsibility as it applies to women portrayed on the broadcast networks. Well, the results are in... and supporting the notion that there are lies, damn lies and statistics, the results don't always play out the way NOW might have liked.

Not surprisingly, the highest marks we're given to "The Gilmore Girls," a show on The WB that focuses on a single young mom and her intelligent daughter. The show features sensitive story lines, realistic scenarios and likeable characters... just the kind of family friendly fare for growing adults. After that, however, the fun begins. For when you do it by objectively by the numbers and ignore the gestalt of the show itself, you come up with some interesting rankings.

Coming in at number two is "Sabrina the Teenage Witch." Now, what exactly do we have here? An empowered young lady in the lead? Check. She has a number of strong female companions? Check. There's a lack of overt violence? Check. But forget the bullet points and look at the big picture. At its heart, it's a show about a female who only triumphs because she has magical powers. Now, there's something your daughter can relate to: using eye of newt to get the lead in the school play. At least she something to shoot for: when she grows up, she can be in "Charmed," a show about 3 attractive witches who dress in lots of spandex and who use their powers on warlocks, demons and boyfriends. Unfortunately, that kind of activity drops "Charmed" to 27th in the rankings.

Also near the top was "Felicity," a show centered on a college student coping with the rigors of school and the big city. Again, from an objective standpoint, the show has lots of positives. A female lead, a lack of violence in favor of intelligence, a focus on using hard work and study to get ahead. But once again, even the raters commented that majority of the lead characters were "thin, conventionally attractive, young and presented in a way that highlighted their physical attributes." The message: a 4.0 grade average is important, but so is a skin tight "Baby Pfat" tee-shirt.

Number five on the list was "Popstars," also on The WB. First, the good news: this chronicle of the building of a new girl group had no violence, lots of females from diverse backgrounds and showed them working hard to get ahead. But then there's the rub: it's all in pursuit of being a starlet in a band whose entire image is based on sex and beauty. Oops... they did it again.

A quick scan through the rest of the scores and the notes in the margins reveals similar conundrums. With the possible exception of Kate Mulgrew as Captain Janeway on "Star Trek: Voyager," almost all shows that feature women in lead roles also focus on their physical attractiveness. IN "CSI," one of the lead investigators is a smart female... who almost always dresses in skin tight black slacks. In "Law And Order," the female lead wins cases... always dressed in a tight skirt. And in "The Weakest Link" the appeal of the program rises or falls on the quick repartee of the woman host... who dresses exclusively in tight pants and a long black leather coat. In TV land, power for women obviously comes by being wrapped very tightly... physically, that is.

Will the trend continue? Well, this fall will see Kim Delaney of "NYPD Blue" as a defense attorney-single mom and Jill Hennesy of "Law and Order" as a medical examiner. Odds are that they'll play strong, gutsy parts, while also wearing blouses that are a shade smaller than they should be. And Jason Alexander will have a comedy where he portrays a motivational speaker... opening the door to another show about a not-so-good looking guy with gorgeous women surrounding him.

But then again, perhaps we shouldn't expect much. We're talking entertainment here. Male or female, no on wants their kids following the example of Homer Simpson. When I kick on the tube, its to be entertained, not lectured too. Or as Mark Twain said, "Few things are harder to put up with than the annoyance of a good example."

-END-

Marc Wollin of Bedford still studies "MASH" reruns for Hawkeye Pierce behavioral tips. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review and The Scarsdale Inquirer.

One Degree of Separation

This President has said that we must get back to the business of our daily lives, that to do so denies the perpetrators of the terrible calamity in New York the victory of disruption that they so desperately crave. And he's right. While we must never forget what has happened, to wallow in it does us no good. Without disrespecting the memories of those who perished, the psyches of those who were traumatized or the efforts of those who were rescuers, the most important thing we can do is to move forward with new resolve. The path, of course, is not clear. But if the will is there, then we will find a way.

And so next week, I will return to documenting the twists and turns of daily life that strike me as a bit out of sync, as I have done in this space for nearly six years. In doing so I will leave it to much brighter minds than mine to work out the philosophical conundrums of liberty versus security, the practical considerations of lengthy airport check ins versus economy growth, the political consequences of military action as weighed against diplomatic efforts. Like you, I will watch, listen and participate to the best of my ability in the national conversation that will shape the future, the future that began last Tuesday at 8:45AM on a bright September morning.

But before we move on, we would be dishonoring all those affected if we didn't take away some lessons from this catastrophe. Not big ones about national security or urban safety or search and recovery... we'll leave those to the panels of experts that seem to have taken over CNN. Rather, while I was fortunate not to be directly involved with the horrors of the day, like anyone who lives in the metropolitan area, I know plenty of those who were at every level. Their stories are visceral, disturbing and heartbreaking, but also filled with tutorials. Without presuming to be definitive, and recognizing that these observations are viewed through my own imperfect prism, here are but a few.

Bob was in the revolving door of the South Tower when the first plane hit. He told me about the decisions he made that morning that put him there at that time, most specifically taking the long way around in order to get a little extra fresh air. Likewise, Tim was walking across the north bridge at the same moment, people-watching with the spare time he had. In both cases, they confessed to being where they were because the day was so beautiful that they couldn't bring themselves to hurry to their desks. I would submit that the lesson isn't to dawdle nor to speed up. Rather, it is that life can be cut short in an instant, and so you should savor the view wherever you are, wherever you're going and whatever you're doing.

In the days following the disaster, I received scores of calls and emails from people all around the country and the world, from Colorado to Ohio, from Japan to Australia, checking up on me and my family and mutual associates, and offering prayers and expressions of concern. I know how I felt when I got the communication: touched that someone was thinking of me, even people whom I barely knew. Indeed, I did much the same, reaching out to close friends, as well as people with whom I had only a passing acquaintance. Many of those I contacted spoke of the same kind of gratitude for my efforts that I had experienced. If I learned anything from that, it is that I am part of a community that I take for granted, one that I should be far more appreciative of in the future.

As businesses began to reactivate on Monday morning, there was a sense of getting ready for battle. All you had to do was look at the shots of the traders on the floor of the New York Stock exchange as a marine sang "God Bless America" to see it. The scene resembled the start of any football game, with the "Star Bangled Banner" being played over shots of athletes twitching with anticipation. And yet, for most people, the importance attached to wheeling and dealing and buying and selling and office politics seemed to have diminished. One Wall Street broker put it best: no matter what the situation, nothing is so important any more that any interaction with a client, associate, family or friend shouldn't begin with a personal conversation.

There are plenty of other lessons to take to heart. Disasters affect real people, not movie extras: the next time there is a monsoon in India or an earthquake in Japan, perhaps we'll understand that and reach out with more compassion than we've shown in the past. We need to differentiate freedom from privileges, and understand what's important. Taken another way, it's a freedom to be able to travel when and where and how we wish; it's a privilege to be able to check in 10 minutes before the flight. And no matter how stoic, how professional, how hardcore you are, you can still cry, still benefit from a hug and no one will think less of you.

Ithiel Pool, one of the grand visionaries of the modern social sciences, originated the concept "six degrees of separation" to describe the phenomenon of a shrinking world, where any random two people can discover a link through a chain of six acquaintances. But with over 5000 souls lost, that chain gets a lot shorter. It harkens back to 1961, when Berlin was partitioned and the wall went up. At the time, the US spearheaded an international effort to fly food and supplies into the besieged city. President Kennedy went there himself, and in a famous speech, declared the solidarity of the world's people with the citizens of that stricken zone. Well, in a paraphrase that I'm sure he wouldn't object to, people the world over are proclaiming that at least for this week, "Ich bin ein New Yorker."

-END-

Marc Wollin of Bedford has written Glancing Askance since 1995. It appears regularly in The Record-Review and The Scarsdale Inquirer.

Emergency

In an instant, everything changed.

On Tuesday morning, you and your kids got up, had some breakfast, kissed each other good-bye and went your respective ways. They headed to school, you to jobs and activities, maybe a little shopping, a few errands. And the expectation was that come the end of the day, you would all get together for dinner, homework, a little television and then bed.

But nothing again will ever be the same. Never again will you get on a train without wondering. Never again will you walk through a museum without thinking. Never again will send you kids off to the mall without hoping. Never again will you go up in a tall building, or get on an airplane, or sit at a ball game without wondering... wondering if this is the time when something happens, something horrific, something that will change your view of the world forever.

For if something the size of the Pentagon can be attacked, something as massive as the World Trade Center can be targeted... and not just targeted but targeted successfully... what of everything else? After all, these are locations that have security services and alarm systems and backup fail safe designs specially constructed to foil any mischief. And yet in a matter of less time than it takes to watch the news on TV, they were decimated. With that point of reference, how easy would it be to destroy a local school, or a shopping mall, or a hospital? You know the answer, even if you don't want to admit it: it would be a piece of cake.

But that's by design. It's the bad news and the good news. We pride ourselves on having an open country that's based not on fear, but rather on respect. Sure, we exercise reasonable precautions, looking for obvious threats and perils, while assuming that the real boogie men are being kept at bay. After all, we all have things that we don't like or with which we disagree. But we fight the good fight with words, not with bombs and guns and planes loaded with innocent people flown into the sides of buildings.

No, we expect that the rules will be observed, and that the really ugly fighting will stay safely contained in another time zone. But that's obviously an extravagance we can't afford any more. We've always looked at places like Somalia and Bosnia and the West Bank as places "over there." The battles in those locales were nasty, brutish affairs, ones that brought out the worst of humanity. We saw them as intramural conflicts, contained in the arena of the third world. We might have our views, our favorites, even back the horse of our choosing, but it was all done from afar. Today that changed: "over there" suddenly became "over here."

It offers a taste of the real world that we don't often get and don't really want. We used to be able to sit here with our café lattes and our cable modems and visit the world by holding it at arm's reach. We used to be able to take our package tours to the great wonders of the world, prepay the local taxes and transfers, and have the bus driver zip us past the uglier sections of town. We used to be able to frame the debate over the future of society not over big, confusing topics like human rights and freedom and repression, but over issues such as how big a 14-year-old's spaghetti straps are or how violent a Mel Gibson movie rated PG-13 really is. But the luxury of that vantage point has just vanished.

Calling what comes out of this "good news" is to insult the lives of those people caught in the tragedy. However, it will change our view of the world as no debate or presidential address or op-ed piece ever could. For all the talk about the new millennium, a world economy and a new world order, nothing could have united the country and created a sense of purpose as much as this disaster. It's simplistic and naive to think that all the differences that existed among Democrats and Republicans, conservative and liberals will evaporate, that we'll all get together and sing "God Bless America" all the time. But perhaps the blinders will come off; certainly the gloves will as well.

As I write this, there is no shortage of speculation as to where to lay the blame for this tragedy. The first question is "who." Was it Islamic terrorists? Was it a splinter group of Bosnian separatists or a radical arm of a Palestinian freedom movement? Or, harder to imagine and worse to contemplate, did it come from within? As Timothy McVeigh proved, there is no shortage of extremists carrying American passports.

And then we'll want to know the "why." Was there any significance to the date, which some have noted was the anniversary of the Camp David accords? Or to our policies in Eastern Europe or Southeast Asia? In time, we should know the bottom line. Forensic science is very advanced; if there's a shred of evidence, there will be a definitive answer soon enough.

That's what we do when there's a catastrophe. We look for answers in the hope of preventing a recurrence. But then again, you can argue that's all Monday morning quarterbacking. Perhaps the only thing worth taking away from this horror is the date. September eleventh. Or written another way, 911... very fitting. For if ever we had an emergency that requires us to take action in the way we live, this is it.

-END-

Marc Wollin of Bedford writes Glancing Askance every week. It appears regularly in The Record Review and The Scarsdale Inquirer.

Close The Captions

For a person who struggles with English, I can conceive of no harder job than being a simultaneous translator. You have to not only understand the intricacies of another tongue, but also the nuances, the biases, the slang, even the inside jokes of a second culture. And on top of it all, you have to make split second decisions as to how to convert those into another language, itself loaded with all of its own baggage.

The good news is that when you do your job, there are precious few who can catch your errors. By the very nature of the beast, people are listening to you because they can't understand the original speaker. As such, no one will know if you substitute "meal" for "breakfast" or "car" for "sedan." Of course, accuracy is important... you don't want to be translating "war" for "peace."

As long as you get the sense right, you've done your job, and no one will ever know otherwise. I was once interviewing a Japanese gentleman through a translator. I asked her to ask him if he was comfortable with the ground rules, and could we begin? She rattled off a stream of rapid fire Japanese that took 15 seconds or better. He listened, then responded in multiple sentences for an equal amount of time. She then turned to me and uttered a single word: "Shoot." It was obvious that this was no literal translation, but I nonetheless got the idea that we were ready to go.

There is, however, one venue where the discrepancy can be a bit more transparent. Through the miracle of modern science, most new televisions include a feature that enables them to display captions for what is being said on the screen. An outgrowth of the Americans with Disabilities law that went into effect a few years ago, the idea is permit people with hearing problems to enjoy the same bad programs that those of us with perfect hearing do.

For most shows that are created ahead of time, the producers send their programs to a service that matches up the text of the script with the spoken dialogue. Where necessary, they make judicious cuts or trims to enable the scrolling words to stay more or less in sync with what's being said on screen. They even indicate other sounds that help to better capture the sense of the action: laughter, doorbells, music and the like.

Generally, the text scrolls up a moment or two after the spoken word. As such, it is useful not only for those who are heard of hearing, but also for those who are perhaps not as familiar with the culture being portrayed. One friend reports that he kicks on the captioning feature when they're watching a cop show filled with street lingo. That way they get a second chance to translate "Yo, he dissin' the hood, man, speakin' jive like that" -like comments into English, and don't have to ask "What'd he say?" quite so often.

But unfortunately, sometimes the final finishing of the sound mix isn't reflected in the text. In "Ally McBeal," popular music is often inserted over characters talking, helping to illustrate their thoughts. The actors know this, and so just babble away, assuming their dialogue will be removed. Aurally, yes; but not always in the text version. In one episode, the song "You Belong to Me" welled up and the voices faded away. But viewers who kicked on their caption option saw this exchange between Ally and Billy.

Billy: "Conversations with dead wife. Not a problem. Yacht, could be."

Ally: "I have three experts to say that short term memory loss is not necessarily a cause of, um... dementia."

Billy: "What about the time he stole a loaf of bread?"

Ally: "He just saw Les Miserables?"

While "music playing" should have been the text, this is far more entertaining.

Now, with most of the shows we watch, the conversion from speech to text is accomplished ahead of time... offline, if you will. So in those cases, there is plenty of time to catch mistakes and smooth out any rough edges. Unfortunately, that is not the case for events which are live. For news, sports, awards shows, it is left to the speed and comprehension level of the typist to keep up with the action. And just as in any situation that requires hundreds of split section decisions to be made in real time... from driving to playing baseball to day trading stocks... occasional mistakes are made.

During the last Olympics from Sydney, for example, viewers who had the sound turned down but the caption turned on would have seen Team USA standing on the floor of the gymnastics pavilion chanting... according to the text... "USE! USE! USE!" You might ask, use what? Well, turn up the sound, and you would have heard "USA! USA! USA!" That makes mores sense, doesn't it?

Or had you stuck around for the swimming competition, you might have heard the commentators talking about the various competitors. They were speaking of the skill levels and training regimes of the different national teams. But viewers who had switched on their captioning feature might have wondered why they were referring not to the swimmers from Hungary, but about the "Hung Aryan swimmers." Hmmmm. Voices those unspoken thoughts we all have about those skintight suits.

And then there's the corporate presentation where the chairman of the board addressed his troops. Beamed out via satellite to all employees far and wide, the opening music rolled, the titles flew in, and a beaming executive strode to the podium to begin his speech. But those watching with the closed caption button pushed in might have been just a bit insulted when the first words out of his mouth scrolled down the screen: "Good morning ladies and jerks, and hoppy new jears to you all."

Hoppy new jears, indeed. Call it instantaneous or concurrent or simultaneous. But any way you look at, sometimes speed may not kill, but you could die laughing.

-END-

Marc Wollin of Bedford considers himself fluent in one language... barely. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review and The Scarsdale Inquirer.

Familiarity Breeds

It's hard to pinpoint exactly when and where it started. Perhaps it was during the fifties when we all started to like Ike. Others might trace its beginnings back to the early 60's when Bobby was tapped by his brother Jack to be Attorney General. Maybe it took root at the 1976 Democratic convention when the man from Plains said, "My name is Jimmy Carter and I want to be your next President." But it really got rolling in the nineties with the dominance of corporate giants such as Bill, sports figures like Tiger and entertainers similar to Britney. That was when you knew that we were truly all on a first name basis.

In the past, things were different, more formalized. While we've always had them, our so called "given" names were used only by our parents and close personal friends. Everyone else used your surname, with some honorific preceding it. It might be pro forma, such as Mr. or Mrs., or earned through years of hard labor, such as Dr. or Professor. In fact, it was not uncommon for even good friends to address each other by more formal handles. Absolutely Mr. Pitney? Positively Mr. Bowes.

This is taken to its highest level in Japan, where everybody is addressed by his or her last name only. Co-workers, childhood chums, golfing buddies.... It doesn't matter what you've been through together, how long you've known each other or what your fathers did together in the service. Everyone calls everybody they meet by their last name, followed by "san." It's such a part of the culture that you would sooner eat day old sushi than call your best friend Irving.

Meanwhile, back in this country, for those that wished to curry favor with you, such as bankers, doormen or salesmen on commission, even this level of formality wasn't enough "Yes, ma'am" or "Yes sir" was standard issue when addressing the senior figure in the relationship, even if the senior figure was junior in age. It was a way of saying, "Yes, you control the outcome, yes, you control the timetable, yes, you control whether or not I get ten bucks out of your wallet."

But along with casual Fridays has come casual relationships. We're buddy-buddy with everyone, everywhere, from our bosses to our doctors, from our clients to our parent's friends, from our kid's teachers to our waitresses. We want to be comfy with every interaction, treating every person we deal with as a good pal with whom we can work together to advance our mutual causes... whether or not we hate, don't respect and want to kill the very person with whom we're talking.

This has led to every customer service rep in every line of business addressing their clientele by their first name, regardless of whether you're buying a polo shirt or complaining about your cell phone bill. Should you doubt this, simply dial the 800 number for Eddie Bauer or FedEx or Verizon Wireless, and see what happens.

"Hello, and thank you for calling Cablevision. This is Sheila. How may I help you?"

"Sheila, this is Bill Jones at 57 Maple Ave in Podunk. I've had it up to here. My cable has been out since this morning, and tonight is the broadcast of 'The Love Boat Reunion' that I've been waiting for all year. And to top it off, this is the third time this month that it's been screwed up. I have to tell you: I've about had it."

"Well, Bill, I'm sorry about that. Let me see what I can find out...."

Bill??? At the very least, you might expect a "Mr." to help placate you. Perhaps a "Sir" would go some distance towards making you not feel so pissed off that you're not getting the service for which you are paying so dearly. But no. The rep acts like she's your next-door neighbor, and her kid's soccer ball has rolled into your yard. You almost feel like it's your fault and you're being unreasonable.

Perhaps they're just trying to be friendly. Perhaps some study has shown that the use of a first name relaxes people. Perhaps it's an extension of what George Sr. called a "kinder, gentler" nation. But for most of us that level of familiarity has to be earned. It's not that we consider ourselves better than anybody, or that we like to put on airs. It's just that we're usually paying for something, and so we expect that the person on the other side of the transaction to treat that relationship with value, and show a little deference. After all, it's as easy to ship that package with Joe at FedEx as it is with Mary at Airborne.

Now, if you're Madonna or Cher, you've made a choice to have the world know you by one name only. And it's a fair bet that if you're in that position, even without the benefit of a last name, people will go out of their way to make sure you get what you want. But for the rest of us mere mortals, there's an old saying that familiarity breeds contempt. And while I too like to be friends with everybody, there are some folks with whom I'm just not going to be inviting over for a cookout.

When all is said and done, the form of address says a lot about the dynamics of the relationship. First names are friendly and familiar; surnames connote deference and respect. After all, consider this: who had the upper hand, Wilbur or Mr. Ed?

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Marc Wollin of Bedford still calls his parents' friends by Mr. and Mrs. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review and The Scarsdale Inquirer.

What You See

You see it in the grocery store in the cookie aisle, the meat section or the condiment selection. It's on display at the drug store, whether you're talking about shampoo or deodorant. It's even reflected in electronics as evidenced by offerings from Apple and Visor. Everywhere you look, you can see not only the box, but the inside as well. We're talking about the tendency to make everything perfectly clear, so like the old spaghetti sauce commercial said, you can see that "it's in there."

It's actually not a new idea, but one that has been slowly gaining steam. Throughout history, in fact, we have been on a quest to make things transparent. We want to know exactly how everything works, how it functions, why it does what it does. Whether it's legislative sessions or stock trades, game shows or gymnastic routines, we like to see what goes into the process. Nothing upsets us more than seeing that behind the Wizard is a curtain, and being told that we're not allowed to draw it back to watch the little man pulling the strings.

It's tempting to say that the reason for this is that we have an insatiable intellectual curiosity for all things. And there may certainly be some truth to that. After all, Marie Curie didn't go looking for X-rays to make money, nor did Marconi "discover" radio with an eye towards future fame and profit. These folks and others simply wanted to know how things work. And so they poked and they prodded, they unscrewed and they looked inside, with the result that they not only discovered the underlying causes of things, but how to use those as building blocks for creations much more complex. The results of this process can be seen in such things as computers, air conditioners, automobiles and microwave popcorn.

But for the vast majority of us, the rationale is much simpler. It's not that we want to know the intricacies of nature. Rather, we're afraid that someone, somewhere, might have a leg up on us. Put another way, we're not so much afraid of losing the race, but terrified that someone will get a head start. And the surest way to level the playing field is to shine the biggest spotlight there is on everything we have.

This accounts for a whole myriad of creations. In C-Span, we have government in action in its most naked and boring form. You can see all that happens regarding a vote on the floor, all the posturing that takes place in the committee rooms. On "The Weakest Link" we get to see whether the contestants know the answers themselves or not. There are no "agree or disagree," "survey says," or "Can I call my Cousin Ernie?" places to hide. And Britney Spears is nothing if not transparent: pure, unadulterated pop, regardless of her protests about being "not that innocent."

Are we happier this way? Do we really want to know it all, and leave nothing to imagination? Writer and commentator Kurt Andersen argues that, in fact, we don't. In a recent essay, he says that while transparency might be OK in our everyday life, we are coming to prefer translucency in our diversions. We want just enough obscured to keep the mystery unveiled, the romance intact. He points to examples like the iMac, in blueberry, sour apple or raspberry sheathing that breaks the convention of a beige central processing unit; to movies like "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon," Ang Lee's swirling fusion of martial arts, ancient Chinese legend and Star Wars sensibilities; to Cirque Du Soleil, that French Canadian pastiche of a circus; to Dave Eggers and "The X-Files" and Moby. All, he writes, illuminate, yet don't harshly expose.

But while I concede the superiority of a negligee over nudity, I must respectfully disagree with Mr. Anderson. We don't want translucency: that requires too much thinking. What we actually want is simple complexity. We don't mind twists and turns to get to the end, but we want to be able to see that there is an end, and what it actually looks like. Sure, there will always be an audience for The Moody Blues and Steven Sondheim and Jackson Pollock. But check the box office totals: they're much higher for Raiders of the Lost Ark and Aerosmith and The Lion King. In a world of complexity, things that are what they say they are, with no surprises, gather a much greater crowd.
I was struck by this as I sat in my local gigaplex, watching trailers for "The Mexican" and "One Night At McCools." You might argue that these pictures were translucent, that they were multi-layered, that they consisted of intersecting storylines which challenged the casual viewer to discern their true meaning. In truth, they were simply bad: so confusing, in fact, that an FBI agent couldn't tease out a plot... and both, in spite of their high wattage casts of Julia Roberts and Brad Pitt, Michael Douglas and Liv Tyler, did horribly at the box office.

You see this again and again: nebulous, convoluted elements jumbled together in an attempt to dazzle. It happens with books ("a shimmering tale of intersecting emotions"), wine ("a heady confluence of warm tones, with a tannic top note") and TV shows ("Medical professionals coping with human tragedies... and their own mortality"). In an attempt to be literate and artistic, too many create something akin to how Churchill described Russia: "a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma." But that may be giving any of it far more credit than is due. Perhaps a better explanation comes in the form of that old saw, "If you can't dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with bull."

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Marc Wollin of Bedford finds that more and more he needs glasses to see even the things that are supposed to be clear. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review and The Scarsdale Inquirer.

A Dot of Your Own

The word is that this has not been a great season for summer rentals. Whether it's the slowing economy or the slowing economy, folks seem to be somewhat reticent to part with a year's salary just to have that special Hamptons' summer cottage for a week. Of course, the el primo places that are just a stone's throw from Martha or Jerry still have strong demand, because after all, when push comes to shove, it's worth spending your kid's college education fund for the really important things in life.

That's because there's an old adage that in real estate that the most three most important things are location, location and location. Being in the right place is absolutely essential if you're going to make a splash. And since there's another old saying that land is valuable simply because they're not making any more of it, it's worth spending almost whatever it takes to establish a beachhead up front near the actual beach.

This is true in almost anything. Sure, it costs more to buy orchestra seats than ones in the second balcony, but at least from up front you can really see the show. Of course, sometimes the investment is in time versus money, such as when you want to secure a good parking place, a spot by the pool or the best seat for the parade. Being willing to arrive early and curl up with a sleeping bag can net you dividends, such as being able to see all five of the Backstreet Boys sweat up close and personal.

This used to be the case in the world of the Internet. Of course, there the real estate comes in the form of the so-called domain names... the "dot coms" with which we've all become so familiar. While the cost to register one of these little beauties is only about $20 a year, the good ones were grabbed quite a while ago. That's why, just like a place listed as "10rms bch vw," there is an active market in speculating on what addresses will prove to be the popular ones in the future. And that's why if you must have "usabz.com," it'll set you back a cool $2.5 million to buy the rights, while you can snap up "fishbuyer.com" for a relatively paltry $149,000.

For those that don't have that kind of cash, the only good news is that unlike land, it's easy to create a new domain name. All it takes is a catchy phrase, from "jellydonuts.com" to "tickets.com." It's so easy, in fact, that at last count, nearly 35 million distinct domains had been registered throughout the world. But since everyone wants to be where the action is, over 29 million of those registered were in 3 of the over 250 domains available: .com, .net or .org. And in those neighborhoods, like building lots near the ocean, the good stuff was taken a long time ago.

Enter the Internet Corporation for Assigned Names and Numbers, better know to bit heads as ICANN. They've announced that starting this fall, they are effectively hanging out the "for rent" sign on two new developments. While .info will be available for any use, .biz will be restricted to businesses. Assuming that those rollouts go smoothly, they've also announced 5 additional names that will be available in the not-too-distant future for specialized use: aero for air transport companies, .coop for cooperatives, .museums for museums, .name for individuals and .pro for accountants, lawyer and doctors. In each case, they've put into place procedures so that only the appropriate organizations or individuals will be able to obtain a specific address... no cyber squatting allowed

The idea is that this will make it easier for Mr. and Mrs. Web Surfer to find the information they need. Looking for airline schedules or fares? Then typing in delta.aero might get you to the latest data, while typing delta.com might take you to plumbing supplies, and delta.pro might be your local dentist. Just as in real life, last names will start to count, making it easier to differentiate between Jimmy Swaggart, Jimmy Carter and Jimmy the Greek.

If the controls work, and only a legitimate user of an address is allowed to own it, the cost should go down as the availability goes up. No longer will some modern version of an Oklahoma Sooner be able to get to a spot first and plant a flag marking his claim, regardless of who comes rushing along afterwards. So now Bill Gates can get billgates.name for a pair of sawbucks, and not have to shell out a cool $1 million for the "com" variety that's currently offered on the auction block.

Followed to its logical conclusion, we're bound to see even more extensions, enabling neat little electronic neighborhoods to be created. Looking for music? Then go to nsync.tunes. How about some tips on putting? Check out tiger.golf. It'll soon be just like Disneyland: you'll be able to go to Fantasyland or Tomorrowland and know exactly what to expect.

What this all means is that if you've always had your eye on a little place by the water, and you have neither the cash to buy it nor the time to develop it, you certainly could be out of luck. But if you've always coveted a little dot com of your own, where you and the missus can curl up between shopping sprees at Amazon or spins on Travelocity, your ship may have just come in.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford still calls wollin@aol.com home. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review and The Scarsdale Inquirer.

Shut Up and Drive

While this session of the New York Legislature has been notable for its lack of progress on tough issues such as tax reduction and education reform, it nevertheless made history with one of its edicts. Starting this fall, the state will be the first to ban the use of handheld cell phones while driving. No longer will you be able to keep one hand on the wheel and one pressed to your ear, as you thread your way up the Saw Mill Parkway while simultaneously ordering Chinese food, chatting with your golf buddies or checking in with your spouse.

The reasoning behind the law is that people talking on cell phones are distracted from the more essential task of piloting their vehicles on the straight and narrow, and hence more likely to have accidents. Now, even if you're not a research scientist from the National Transportation Safety Board, odds are you have anecdotal evidence that this is the case. We've all been cut off by drivers who are gabbing a mile a minute while not looking where they are going... and I dare say... we each might be guilty of similar offenses ourselves. In most cases, it results in a quick swerve and some expletives being bandied about. But it's a short jump from there to a five-car pileup tying up the Major Degan Expressway for the morning rush.

Speaking for myself, I know that catching up with my mom on the phone while I'd driving home from a late project can certainly draw my attention away from the road. But the question is this: am I more distracted by that then when I am unwrapping a burger from the drive-in window at McDonald's? Or when I'm trying to flip through the liner notes to see who is the keyboard player on the third cut of the last McCartney solo CD? I would venture the view that answer is no... and so along with the phone ban, we should embargo number 2 value meals and the Beatles.

More to the point, as radio commentator Dave Ross points out, the law was enacted not because people jabbering loudly on cell phones are inherently dangerous, but because they are inherently obnoxious. After all, everyone has been accosted by some moron who thinks the world is his or her telephone booth. Regardless of the setting... the train, the line at the grocery store, the table at the local deli... they engage in animated discussions with unseen listeners, assuming that the rest of us will either a) close our ears, b) enjoy the story of their boss' affairs c) don't mind hearing about their itchy rash, or d) all of the above. For these losers, the answer is always "d."

But the ban doesn't actually stop people from using cell phones in the car while driving; it just makes them do it hands free. So they're free to dial (where they have to use one hand on the wheel and look down away from the road), to take notes (where they have to use one hand on the wheel and look down away from the road) and to fiddle with the memory settings and controls on the phone (where they have to... ah, you get the idea). And of course, even with a speaker or an earpiece or a headset, they're still free to get so wrapped up in the conversation that the rest of us have to duck and run when they come into view.

If we're going to make any progress in this arena, we need more action and less talk. Take the situation I was in, coming out of New York City one day at rush hour. As the van I was riding in with 4 others headed up the West Side Highway, we ran into the usual mess near the Holland Tunnel. For those of you unfamiliar with the geography, we're talking 4 lanes going north, four going south, along with traffic lights, people turning into and out of the flow, as well as those attempting to cut across the highway to get to the tunnel and New Jersey. Picture the cross currents in the surf during a hurricane, and you get a sense of the less-than-ordered chaos that prevails.

As we edged our way patiently northward through the mess, we finally came to the front of the line at the traffic light that signaled the final barrier. The next cycle would provide our release. But just as it turned green, a Mercedes decided to turn across traffic, obstructing all northbound lanes. The driver was animatedly talking away, but we could see no one else in the car. It was obvious that he was in the middle of a call, paying little or no attention to the situation around him.

We all started yelling at the Mercedes, taking particular aim at the driver's parentage. But two of the gentlemen in my vehicle were Bronx born and bred, and had a different way of dealing with things. Our van door slid open, and they made a beeline for the car in front of us. Without a moment's hesitation, they stepped in front of the Mercedes, and starting pounding on the hood, while offering the admonition to "GET OFF THE F***ING PHONE... AND DRIVE!!!"

Well, the guy in the car got the message. You could read his lips as he hurriedly said, "Ah... Phil... I'll have to call you back... OK?" He reached down and punched the disconnect button, then quickly pulled the Mercedes out of our way. My companions climbed back into the van, slammed the door, and we made it through the light, and continued our ride home... convulsed in laughter the entire way.

While this particular gentleman was adhering to the new letter of the law, he was breaking it in spirit. Thankfully, my companions showed him the error of his ways. Forget the legislation; that's the kind of call we all need to make.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford has a headset for use in his car, but he still doesn't talk for long. It costs too much. His column appears regularly in The Record Review and The Scarsdale Inquirer.

Things You Didn't Know You Needed

In this consumer culture, there is little that you want that you can't buy. From summer homes to toilet bowl cleaners, from golf balls to remote control garage door openers, from sports socks to pre-moistened towelettes, it's out there just waiting for you. Even better, you can not only imagine it, you can find a company willing to deliver it to you overnight for $39.95 plus shipping and handling.

But just because it exists doesn't mean that you need it. Take, for instance, the bloat that has occurred in word processing programs, especially in light of the proliferation of email. On the rare occasions that most folks need to compose a printable document, it's liable to be a letter to your kid's second grade teacher, or a sign up sheet for the club tennis tournament. The firepower to do that can be contained in a program capable of fitting on a floppy disk. Yet, installing Microsoft Word... the program alone... requires 100 megabytes of more. That's more memory than my first three computers put together. And all of that so that I have the ability to generate a Table of Authorities, spell check a passage in Norwegian Nynorsk, or Parse numerical data into table format. Can you check your online thesaurus for synonyms for the word "overkill?"

There are lots of other cases where the technological envelope is being pushed for no good reason, other than that the design engineers wanted to strut their stuff. Just look at the functions available on your cell phone. Or the cooking options on your microwave. Or the buttons festooning your TV remote. In each case, a couple of controls would probably suffice: on, off, a number pad and a few "up-down" controls. But beyond that? I mean, let's be honest: do you really understand timed auto-defrost, let alone ever use it? I thought not.

The result is that you see ad campaign after ad campaign touting things you never knew you needed. Of course, the trick is to convince you that you do. With technology, that's usually a matter of creating a "wowy-zowy" phrase and tying it to an incomprehensible nom de guerre. Does Intel sell a "speedy central processing unit?" Sort of, but it prefers to come at it a different way. And so you see circulars touting a "lighting fast Pentium IV." The message is clear: when those emails start coming hot and heavy, you've go to have this kind of firepower in your foxhole.

This approach works with everyday mundane items as well. For instance, we all know we need tires for our cars. For most of us, they must be round and made of rubber, and have some kind of tread capable of holding the road. The only other relevant detail is the price. Past that, unless you're an automotive engineer, it's all wasted. But a glance at the newspaper can still generate all kinds of insecurities. Do I really need circumferential and lateral grooves? How about hundreds of tread notches and wider shoulder blocks? And can I live without Individual tread blocks stabilized with special tie bars? If I don't have them, will my kids still be able to get into the college of their choice?

Beyond that there are the items that are trying to convince you that they're breaking new ground. Take, for instance, that nagging problem you have in the morning or at the office watering hole when you go to make a pot of coffee. The first thing you have to do is grab a new filter out of the stack. Normally, these thin, absorbent pieces of paper stick together. What's a mother to do? Well, you could lick your finger, or blow on the edge of the stack, or take a handful out and put back the excess. Or you could run right down to your local grocery store and pick up the "Coffee Filter Separator." Styled like a pair of plastic ice tongs, these $1.69 beauties enable you to... well... pick up and separate coffee filters. How have you lived your life without them?

Or let's say your getting all dolled up for a big night out and want to put on your favorite bracelet, but your significant other is nowhere to be found. It means that you have to come to terms with the fact that while evolution has left us with opposable thumbs, it has not graced us with fingers long enough to reach our wrists. In a stunt akin to threading a needle with one hand, you try and try to make the catch work to no avail. Enter the "Bracelet Buddy," an $8.95 stalk of faux gold plastic with an alligator clip on the end. Using it, you can steady the clasp, buckle yourself in, and head off to the ball.

Finally, let's say you're lying in bed late at night and hear a strange noise downstairs. You ease out from under the covers and grab your trusty 9 iron in one hand and Mickey Mouse flashlight in the other. That way, should you actually encounter an intruder, you can either take a chip shot at his head, or show him how Mickey's smile lights up. But that's a tough choice. Better you should have the "Safety Bat." At just $59.95, this 30 inch long hardwood bat is identical to the one that the Babe used... except there is a flashlight located in the end. So now you can poke around with both hands, confident that if you swing for the bleachers, you'll see your cat before you club him.

Do you really need any of this? While some of it might be moderately useful, odds are you could live without it. After all, it was Sir Terrence Conran, the British designer, who noted that "Arguably, the only goods people need these days are food and nappies."

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Marc Wollin of Bedford finds the only things he must have are his Swiss army knife and his aspirin. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review and The Scarsdale Inquirer.