2.17.2012

Open Letter to South Carolina Federal Credit Union

Dear South Carolina Federal Credit Union:


Given that today I received an electronic notice that I was four days overdrawn, and yet this is the first time I've heard from you about it, and given that I haven't heard a word from your organization concerning a letter I wrote last month to Customer Service, I thought I might try to another approach. Namely, blogging a letter to you here on Baxter Sez, a site that enjoys somewhere in the neighborhood of 5,000 pageviews per month.

What I need to say is: Why oh Why must your automated phone answering service be so labyrinthine? I can never maintain the amount of concentration required to find the office to whom I need to speak. And when I have actually pressed #7 or #14 or #34, no one has ever answered the phone. Now, of course, I did get to enjoy some terrible music, an occasional burst of loud static and a multitude of your own commercials singing the praises of your organization, but I still never got to speak to anyone about whatever problem I may have been facing. I wasn't calling to listen to static, practice with numbers, or hear commercials. I needed your help. Where have you been in these times of need?

Granted, I've had a bad taste in my mouth since that time a few years ago when you told me that I hadn't put $200 in the little vacuum tube when I know damn well I did. And believe me, I've also noticed that the teller with whom I had that transaction is no longer at your bank. But why couldn't you have at least refunded some of the $300 in service charges that resulted from this gaff (of mine?)? I know you know I don't make a lot of money, so I know you know $300 dollars is quite a sum for me to lose like that?

And then last month, why did you wait 48 hours before you sent me a friendly "e-notice"--and mind you not an "urgent e-notice," or "please, please look-now-at-your-account-status notice"-- before you told me I was overdrawn? 48 hours? Come on--you've tracked purchases within seconds of real time. You can't tell me your computers couldn't be updated to let me know sooner than 48 hours?

I assume it must be the lure of the $285 in service charges you were able to scam from me in that time period. I realize the ability to overdraw is something you call a "customer service," but it was obvious I wasn't taking advantage of that. I mean, if I had been, I'd have just withdrawn the $200 for one service charge rather than spend $12 here and there for 8 service charges.

And then why must it be $35 a pop? Since none of these purchases were by check, did it really cost you anything to spot me a few bucks? And couldn't it be just one charge per day?

And can't any of your managers answer anything other than No, I can't do anything about that?
Ma'am, I'm almost deadly certain I put $200 in the vacuum tube-y thing.

--I'm sorry. I can't do anything about that.

Can't you check the video?

--I'm sorry. No.

Can't you...

--Listen, your receipt says "$100." You must be mistaken.

I'm almost certain I'm not.

--But the teller's drawer checked out.

Yes, but couldn't the teller have put a hundred in their pocket, hoping I wouldn't notice the receipt?

--No.

Can you at least look into this a little bit and shoot me an email about what you find?

--Yes. I can do that.

Wow. A yes. But did I ever hear from you? No. You couldn't help me with that.

And then today. I get one more e-notice that i'm four days overdrawn. Why did you wait four days? What happened to your stellar response time of two days? Man, I'd never treat another person the way you treat me. If your Credit Union were a person I'm sure it'd be named Romney....just without all the sparkling wit and personality.

South Carolina Federal Credit Union, might I suggest a change of slogan for you? How 'bout:

We're South Carolina Federal Credit Union: Doing as little as possible to take you to the brink of financial ruin...

2.14.2012

Is Existence Additive or Subtractive?

So which is more important:

Whacha don't do, or whacha doodoo?

2.13.2012

Ear plugs are amazing

As many of you know, I'm a person who's prone to anxiety.  The last several weeks have been filled with a higher-than-average level of anxiety for me--and that's saying a lot.  I think that this is at least in part because I've just passed through two pretty significant anniversaries:  the anniversary of the diagnosis of the brain tumor (which happened Dec. 24, 2009) and the anniversary of the surgery itself (which, thanks to Catherine, I now know was yesterday--Feb. 12, 2010).

Hurray that two solid years have passed since the surgery.  And perhaps an even bigger hurray that the anniversary itself has passed, because I think my body in some primordial way had identified the slant of the sun, the season, whatever, and knew that some bad stuff went down at this time a couple of years back, so it has gone into alert mode.

Part of that primordial warning system has meant that, as I told my friend Meg, "Every single sound in the city of Charleston wakes me up, from the gentle squeak of Biffle's nose to the trains past East Bay."  I have not been sleeping well.  Then yesterday I had the good fortune to be having brunch with another friend, Marguerite, who mentioned how much she relies on her ear plugs for good sleeping.  She says she buys the mega-pack from the Rite Aid.

"Hmmm," thought I, "perhaps this would work."

Maybelle and I made a trip to the Rite Aid yesterday afternoon and with hopeful good will bought a mega-pack.  I used them last night.  I couldn't hear a thing.  Not the clickety-clickety of Gabe trotting through the house at night, not Maybelle's sigh as she rolls over in her sleep, not Biffle's footsteps as he quietly comes home from a gig.  Nothing.  I slept seven hours and twenty minutes, friends.  That is a big deal for me these days.  I mean, I woke up a few times, but I was able to go right back to sleep.

Perhaps we've turned a corner.

2.10.2012

Alison's complaints about memoirs, written in a scholarly way

You all know I have complaints about the way many memoirs are written.  I wrote a friendly version of these complaints in a piece for Skirt! magazine a while back ("Maybelle vs. the Memoir").  At the same time that I wrote that article, I wrote a scholarly piece critiquing memoirs written by parents of children with disabilities.  Because academic publishing is a slow business, my article has just now been published.  It's in a journal called Disability Studies Quarterly, which is the big U.S. journal for disability studies scholarship.  I'm thrilled to be part of that community now!

If you want to read my essay, it's called "Saints, Sages, and Victims:  Endorsement of and Resistance to Cultural Stereotypes in Memoirs by Parents of Children with Disabilities."

2.06.2012

Re-thinking

I've been mulling a post concerning re-thinking for...well...forever, I guess. But it's just been too big for me to ever go ahead and put anything down. What am I talking about? I'm talking about re-thinking, I'm talking about taking a look at some given in my life, in your life, in this world. I'm talking about examining some concept walking around and totally accepted as akin-to-the-truth when it's really not...


And already I'm re-thinking writing this post...Like I said, it just seems too big to tackle. Perhaps just a bit crazy. The thing is, excluding playing music, most of the work I do tends be done alone. The upshot is that I'm left alone to have conversations with just myself, and the result is a conversation with no real checks and balances system there to keep it in the realm of sanity. I just get going on some concept, some trope, in my head and before long--let's call it mental inbreeding--those thoughts are wandering around in the void of the impossible. But to me, talking to myself as I am, it all seems perfectly rational.

I wanna show you what I mean by re-thinking with two things + one more thing. The first two are cars and guns. You'll just have to wait to see what the one more thing is. But before I do any of tha, I want to give a simple example of someone else's re-thinking that'll at least show that I'm not totally out there. So, let's take a look at the neck tie. The cravat.

I love a good tie. When I wear one I feel dressed up. I like looking at them all lined up at a clothing store, I like the patterns and the prettiness. But I think they ought to go away. Originally, I suppose, a neck tie was a way to keep ourselves warm, but they've lost any real purpose and are now almost entirely symbolic. But to question the necktie--for instance, to suggest a presidential candidate show up for a televised debate without a tie--is to flirt with something like heresy. That just seems like too much power for a simple piece of silk to have.

But back a few years ago someone in Britain did question the necktie. They conducted a study looking at a connection between doctors, their ties and rates of infection. One hospital was the control: all the doctors wore neckties just like they'd always done. At another hospital the doctors were asked to not wear a tie for something like 6 months. The result was that the tie-free hospital's rate of new infection dropped off by some amazing percentage like 30%. What they found was that ties are waving petri dishes. The wearer would say, sneeze on the tie, or the tie would touch a wound during an examination, etc. and then that same tie would go to a new location/patient carrying along what it had picked up. I don't think doctors in Britain stopped wearing ties as a result of this study, but they should have, don't you think?

Okay: Guns.

Today I can walk out into the world with my telephone and call just about anywhere I want to and not be connected to any wires. I can look at a webpage, get directions somewhere, type an email or find out the price of a avacado. And barring drums and smoke signals, two-way wireless communication is only like a 150 years old. Who would have thought when Marconi and Edison were messing with radio signals that wireless communication would change so much in such a short amount of time?

The Chinese invented gunpowder a thousand some odd years ago. A short while later, someone--in China, or possibly Europe--used this mixture of sulphur, charcoal and saltpeter to push a chunk of lead out of a tube with the sole purpose of messing up someone else's body, most likely to the point of death.

And that's been about it. For 800 years that's what guns have done. Cellphones, they aren't. Guns and their same old function has become an unquestionable piece of our daily existence. Four year olds shoot each other with fingers. When we impersonate Robert Dinero we say you lookin' at me? Guns pervade our consciousness so much that in a land of pure fantasy, like where everybody lives in Harry Potter, all those talented wizards still end up shootin' it out like it was the old west. Except they shoot with a wand. Same goes with The Force in Star Wars. When The Emperor goes to kill Luke how does he do it? He shoots him. He uses his fingers, but still he relies on that one-on-one gun-like approach. I mean, the man's got The friggin' Force--couldn't he just think him dead?

It would seem when you have something as amazing as The Force and all that Harry Potter magic one could just wave a hand and the whole thing would work out. Of course, it wouldn't make for much of a story, so our fantasy worlds stick with the gun thing. And in our real world? Well, we stick with the gun thing, too.

Why haven't we re-thought guns the way we've rethought two-way communication? Oh, sure, we've got bombs and stuff, but that's nothing but a gun with an engine strapped to it. What makes one paradigm so stable and one so malleable? If the gun had changed like the telephone has what would it be like? Why isn't a gun something that...well, something that you point it in any direction and when you pull the trigger, it makes everyone within a hundred miles get really agreeable?

Okay. Cars:

At first cars seemed like a good idea, but I have really come to question the value of these things. No, the car shouldn't disappear, but it needs some serious re-thinking and we just keep on micro-changing it. We've put batteries in them, made them run a little cleaner, but a car is still mostly a thing with 4 wheels and conveys a few people at a time from one place to another. But here's what else cars do: They suck up places where trees and people should be. They create enormous amounts of oily runoff. They make our world very noisy. Cars injure us, make us angry, cost us quite a bit of a week's labor to pay for.

How much real estate/arable land is paved over in order for cars to keep going? How many street lights do we really need? How much tax money is spent on maintaining ten jillion miles of road in this country? How much of our atmosphere must we pollute and water contaminate and silence sacrifice for the automobile? How many chunks of lead must we shoot out of tubes and into other people just to keep that car's parts moving?

Wanna have clean water, good air, no beef with the middle east, no more 9/11's, whole neighborhoods back, more efficient local governments, lots more green space, the end of road rage, no more 2 hour commutes, no traffic jams, less death (500,000 americans in ten years!), fewer taxes, and the ability to see the fantastically beautiful night sky again in one fell swoop?

We really gotta rethink the car.

* * *

Yes, I know. I'm being silly. That's not the way the world works. But I think it would be nice if it did. I think it would be great if we could just jump paradigms as easily as skipping a rope. The + one more thing i wrote of up above is the notion of re-thinking what we teach in primary school. Realistically--and I'm not being silly here--I think we ought to be teaching a lot more critical thinking skills. Everyone should be able to read, write and know world history. And we know that as students grow to adulthood they'll gravitate toward whatever field interests them--whether its economics or the law or automobile design or automobile repair or woodworking. But where ever one's proclivities eventually take them, I think every student should be graduating the sixth grade with a degree in creative thought. The Status Quo should be a laughable notion to them.

Instead, most of our schools--all of our public schools--are becoming jails, daycares and places devoid of music, art and the concept of craft. That should not be the case. All silliness aside, if there's one place that needs to be radically rethought it's the education an American kid gets between the ages of 6 and 12. If we could wave a peaceful Harry Potter wand over elementary education and have there be as much interest in teachers as in American Idol, and have a kid learn what it means to really see the object they're drawing, recognize the way certain intervals in music vibrate in harmonious and gloriously inharmonious ways, embrace oddity, understand the power and subtlety of language...

You may say that I'm a dreamer :) but I gotta tell you, I think if we could make our children critical thinkers instead of Memorizers-of-the-Pledge of Allegiance or On-Their-Way-to-College, come 2030 or so, when those kids run the world, they'd take a look at ecological damage and poverty and inflation and warfare and they'd just step back and thoughtfully say, yeah, I think we can make this work....

1.31.2012

What Does the "Radical Left Wing" Look Like?

TAMPA, Fla. – Newt Gingrich laid a stark attack on his rival in the run-up to Florida's "winner-take-all" Republican presidential primary Tuesday, accusing Mitt Romney of being no different than President Obama and suggesting the front-runner will be a threat to religious freedom.


Although I open this post with a tiny example of the dubious journalistic practices of Fox News, that's not what this post's about. I just wanted to put it in here because the above inspired what you'll find below....

Oh...Don't know my problem with the above? Well, it's that nothing in that paragraph is in quotes. For instance, it might read
...accusing Mitt Romney of "being no different than President Obama" and suggesting the front-runner "will be a threat to religious freedoms," Newt Gingrich...


But it doesn't. Instead, with its lack of quotation marks, the paragraph incidentally identifies Obama as an actual threat to religious freedom.

You still don't get it? Shoot me an email and I'll try harder.

Okay. So Fox does this kind of crap all the time. And, for me, that's a small sample of the evil the right wing is capable of. Another sample might be the bunch--when you get far enough over there--that forms militias, living in the wilds of a mid-western state, toting machine guns and trying to protect themselves from the "black threat." Or the folks that believe there really is something such as a "welfare queen."

Newt Gingrich appears to be hateful, self-serving and totalitarian. That he has been so successful has only exposed the belief that paranoia and hatred are considered virtues among some folks in our country.

So, where I want to go with all this is: what is the equivalent with the left? What do you find when you really get to the far-out fringes of those elitist, liberal lefties? Folks in communes, living in the wilds of Tennessee, toting machine guns and trying to protect themselves from the threat of commerce?

...well, yeah. But, that's not quite as scary is it?

See, if the far left really took over the country--the really, really radical mothers, mind you--how bad could it be? Mandated vegetarianism? Every single one of us got good health care? No one ever got to be a millionaire? Nightly singings of Kumbaya (which happens to be Gullah for "come by here," by the way)?

Whether misguided, idealistic, elite, unrealistic, bad for business, goofy, or new-agey, the far left as I understand it just doesn't embrace hate and war-mongering, fear and isolationism like the right can.

In short, if I had to die fighting (or passively striving) for a wrong-headed ethos, I hope it's for the one that thinks we might all could get along or have a chance at equitable fulfillment.

1.30.2012

Oxygen mask

Big girl bedThis week we've been transitioning Maybelle from her crib to a bed (which is her crib with one set of railings removed).

Let's talk about how well I do with transitions:  I'm terrible at them.  I like most things in my daily life to be routine and predictable.  I love the excitement of surprises in my teaching and research (for instance, I loved it the other day when I invited my students to ask some questions I wasn't expecting, and one student--in enthusiasm and sincerity--asked, "Are we going to read any books that are...interesting?"  Led to a great thirty minute conversation).

But in daily life, I love a routine.  I also love getting a decent amount of sleep.  Crib-to-bed transitions don't seem to support either.

The first night was Monday.  Within the first hour of us putting her to bed, Maybelle had gotten up and come to get us 66 times.  I became so overwrought that Biffle sent me to my office at school.  He turned off every light in the house, and Maybelle finally fell asleep.  She got up three times in the night, and at 5:30, she was fully up and ready to start the day.

Night #2:  She got up 7 times in the complete darkness that was our house, then she stayed in her room for 10 minutes, then got up a few more times, and then within half an hour fell asleep.  Awake and ready to go the next morning at 4:30.

Night #3:  Took her about an hour to go down, a dozen times getting up between 7 and 8.  Then she was up at 1, and then between 2:30-4:40 up about six times, which means I basically didn't sleep starting at 2:30.  In the morning.  I stood holding her bedroom door shut between 4:40 and 5 just hoping that it might inspire her to go back to bed.  It didn't.

On Thursday, the day that started at 2:30, one of the students in my WGS capstone seminar mentioned the oxygen mask.  You know, the airline announcement that you have to put the oxygen mask on yourself before you put it on anyone who's relying on you.  As I told the student, this is something I remind myself of pretty much every day.  I needed to hear it that day, in my bleary, emotional, sleep-deprived state.

So on Thursday night, night #4, Biffle and I considered making her bed back into a crib and abandoning the notion of her being a person who sleeps in a big girl bed.  But before we took that step, we decided to try a step that felt sketchy to me, but necessary according to the oxygen mask premise:  we made it so that she couldn't leave her room.

As part of that process, I made her a list of "Maybelle's sleep rules," lifted directly from the book Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child (a book that has some good suggestions but is deeply troubling in some of the things it says).  It's a list of things like, "Stay in bed" and "close our eyes."  Maybelle read it several times and seemed perfectly happy with it.  Then we put her in bed, closed the door, and waited (waited, by the way, in a house with lights on--kind of important for me).

She tried to open the door, and when it wouldn't open, she immediately began tantruming.  After a few minutes of this, Biffle went in, told her that we were here, and that she had to go to bed, that she wasn't leaving her room until the morning.  For about ten minutes she was calm, quietly playing in her room, and then she tried the door again and threw a rageful fit.  For twelve solid minutes, she screamed her fury at us, as we sat sort of huddled in worry and vague sickishness in the dining room, listening to the baby monitor, waiting to see what happened.  We knew that we couldn't change our minds, because rest assured, Maybelle is savvy enough about human interactions that she would get that changing our minds = if I throw a 15-minute tantrum, the parents will cave!

In the dark, she pulled the sleep rules off her bedroom wall and wadded them up.  Then she got into her bed and fell asleep.  For the whole night.

The next night she went to sleep almost immediately, with no tantruming at all.  She woke up early--4:30--but played quietly in her room until I got back from my jog, a little after 5, and then the day officially began. Last night she threw a tiny little fit, but when Biffle told her it was time for bed, she got in bed, and that was the last we heard from her until 5 this morning.  Her playing woke me up, so I went for a jog, and when I got back, she was still quietly playing in her room, so I went and got her.  Tonight, she checked the door and has been silent.
Happy in bed

I don't know about this sleep stuff, y'all.  I have no idea how much--if any--of this has to do with Down syndrome, and how much just has to do with being a kid who has to learn to sleep.  I do know that we've relied quite heavily on the support and reassurance of some experienced friends.  I also know that there's no set of guidelines that explain The Right Way to do things.

As Biffle and I sat listening to Maybelle's fury on night #4, he said, "I'm sure of three things.  This is all experimental.  It's all gonna work out.  We just have to be really patient."  I stand by what I said to him then:  two of those are a sure thing.