hippytowiki

Peace out...

This was my very first Hippy to Wiki blog post. It dealt with technology and humanity. 

And the one you're now reading will be my last (at least in this space). I'm saying goodbye (sort of). 

I will keep on keepin' on with my writing. Just not here. I'll continue to cover how life has changed from the 1960s to today. I'll share my random observations and memories. But I'm consolidating and simplifying.

Make love, not war. Make time, not too many blogs. 

Just as we traded in our vinyl for iTunes downloads and our Birkenstocks for UGGs (or hipper Birkenstocks), my blog is going to morph into something the same and yet different.

My new blog will be birthed in a few weeks on my new website. (I'm trying to figure out a way to keep the jukebox too.)

Until then, keep on truckin'...

Peace out...

n 

 

PS 26

Ah yes...PS 26. It sounds like a cell block or a top secret drug.

In fact, it was a little bit of both. And, approximately 50 years ago, I
spent time there (Public School 26, aka the Rufus King school) with an eclectic and wonderful group of kids, some of whom are still my friends (both real and Facebook) today. 

In second grade, we had a frightening "command and control" teacher who wore a bun atop her head and held morning inspections, looking for scuffed shoes and dirty ears, which seemed as important to her as reading and math ability. If she taught small children today, she would be arrested (or at least outed on YouTube during one of her tirades). Peter, one of my classmates (who became a writer/producer) killed her off in an episode of Seinfeld. We all have memories of how she wielded her power over a group of terrified 8 year olds.

But we all seemed to turn out pretty well in spite of it. In fact, we went on to do some interesting things professionally and personally. 

The "artistic" girl in the class (another Nancy) went on to launch a fantastic line of unique accessories. The most popular girl in the class (yes, another Nancy) always had great glasses and now teaches optometry and runs an eyewear department at a university. Michael, who ran circles around us in science, produces multimedia training programs for physicians. Felice (who was great at planning social events) is a spiritual guide. If we had been asked what we wanted to do when we grew up, none of us would have picked our current professions. And yet they all make total sense.

Especially my profession. I was always a storyteller and writer and my dioramas (the classic 1960s class project -- a miniature scene made in a shoebox) were varied and sometimes a little weird. But now I blog...and create websites and brochures and other manner of creative media.

And no one checks daily to see if my ears are clean. What a relief!

P.S. The photo above is my 5th grade class. My fashion sense has improved dramatically since then.

Spring feverish

The Buds are Out...

the tiny green ones on the trees and the cans of beer at the ballfield.

As much as life has changed over the past 50+ years, the rites of spring seem to spring eternal. I have a compulsion to sit out on the lawn, but I no longer live across the street from Cunningham Park in Queens (which had a great expanse of lawn). I ate my lunch (fresh greens, in fact) on a bench on a suburban main street, but it just wasn't the same.

One huge advantage of technology is its portability. When I started my business ten years ago, working outdoors was still difficult. I needed a wifi signal, an electrical outlet, a non-glare screen, and a notebook to write in (because I usually still couldn't see the screen). Now I have my iPad mini and my hot spot.

But frankly, this wonderful weather and warm sun lures me away from my devices. Perhaps it's time for us to all catch a little of that spring fever, trade in turtlenecks for tees, swap our Spotify for some live tunes, and ditch our Facebook friends for the real ones (who will update you on their status with their voices rather than their posts).

See you outside...

Filthy Lenses and Dirty Movies

“Your first 10,000 photographs are your worst," said Henri Cartier- Bresson.

"Who the hell is that? Can I follow him on Twitter?" would probably be the response of many people today.

OK. You can look it up here. He was the father of photojournalism and a master of candid photography.

The concept of professional photography seems to be rapidly dying. The same holds true for videography. Vine just launched last week. Just what I needed...6-second amateur videos posted on Twitter!

Instagram...YouTube...Vine...they all even sound so clinical and cold.

What happened to the photos hanging to dry in the darkroom? The exciting moments while we waited for our Polaroid moment to appear? The evenings spent sitting around the family room while home movies (which didn't originally have sound) were loaded on a projector?

I suppose one could argue that now the art of photography and videography is so simple that everyone can have instant access to capturing a meaningful moment. Or, according to Henri, each person has 10,000 really awful pieces of stuff that he is now sharing with the world.

Babe in Toyland

What's the holiday season without toys?

This time of year always brings back memories of my favorite playthings of the 1960s, a time long before electronics and sparkly UGGS. It was an era where we were encouraged to use our imaginations and airplane glue. Dolls didn't move or require batteries. 

My favorite toys of all time were...

1. A perfume-making kit
2. Creepy Crawlers
3. Easy Bake Oven (which used the same technology as Creepy Crawlers)
4. Light-Brite
5. Jigsaw puzzles (the more pieces the better!)
6. Kissy and Patty Playpal (although this creepy video scares me!)
7. Tressy
8. Barbie and Midge and their huge selection of clothes
9. The Viewmaster
   
10. Scrabble (words...words...words!)
11. The Remco Little Red Spinning Wheel (now available on Etsy for a mere $14! Maybe I should buy it!)
12. Operation

And, as I got older, I adored my groovy little "record player" and I looked forward to the trips to E.J. Korvettes to keep it fueled with 78's. 

So, what does this list say about me? I guess that I always liked to create and build and solve puzzles and to make things light up and make noise. I had a girly-girl side too, obviously. I liked to cook stuff (food and scary bugs), play dress-up, and create stuff out of wool. All of these passions still live on.

I'm building websites and blogs rather than dressing a plastic girl for the prom...my phonograph has been replaced by Spotify...I view pix on Instagram not Viewmasters...and I display my wool creations on Pinterest and Facebook rather than my mother's walls. But I still have my toys. I hope I'll always remember how to play!

Google Google gobble gobble...

Along with millions of turkeys, the concept of a simple family Thanksgiving is dying or dead.

Not to be morose at the onset of the holiday season, but I am struck this year -- more than ever before -- on the impact of technology on what used to be a simple family holiday. We are stuffing ourselves with information and chatter.

Pinterest boards are a veritable cornucopia of recipes, cutesy notecards, quotes of thankfullness, and Thanksgiving-related infographics. Very festive, but potentially distracting as I feel compelled to re-pin and like.

Black Friday sales and deals are being blasted-out via e-mail along with insider tips and maps, contributing to retail frenzy. Shoppers will be checking in, hashtagging, and posting their purchases on Instagram.

I needed to find a recipe for cranberry sauce. What to do? I no longer pull The Joy of Cooking or my well-worn Betty Crocker cookbook off my shelf. I Googled "cranberry sauce" and was deluged with 500 variations, along with rankings, comments, and the ability to download my favorites into my Cloud-based recipe file. I suppose, on some level, reading the opinions of the strangers who rated the recipes may prevent a mealtime disaster, but at the end of the day, I care more about what my friends and family think than the rating of a random member of the "cooking community."

My favorite technology this holiday week? It's quite simple. It's not my iPhone or my iPad or any of the myriad apps on them. It's my GPS -- a rather old model at that -- whose soothing British voice will connect me to real people in the real world, as I travel to the "feast."

And, as shocking as it may seem to my Facebook friends, Twitter followers, and blog subscribers, I plan to sit down at the Thanksgiving table 2012, totally unplugged.

Chatting Over the Picket Fence

Women throughout the ages have always been particularly good at disseminating information (both helpful and gossip-y) in their neighborhoods – across the white picket fence or hedges that separated our homes, at the beauty parlor, or over a cup of coffee. Back when most women were full-time housewives, they shared tips on how to get their laundry whiter and which butcher had the leanest lamp chops. Women met-up in the beauty parlor and chatted about their questions and problems of the day and offered advice to those in need. Some whined and moaned continuously, spreading trash talk about neighbors and even strangers.

In the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy, a group of close to 1,500 mothers (and others) in my community used a Facebook-based group to share information about storm clean-up schedules, ideas for keeping kids and grandkids entertained, and where to find gas, flashlights, sleeping bags and other essentials. Some women even put up posts inviting other families into their homes for warmth and power and others shared information about which non-profits needed assistance. The “over the fence” conversation has simply been moved to the Internet.

We did what we’ve been doing for years; shared information, insights, and encouragement to other women who needed advice. I stood eagerly at the fence, picking up whatever tidbits I could, chuckling at some of the quips, taking solace in the words of encouragement.

The whiners and moaners took their negative energy to the online picket fence too, blasting the storm crews for not cleaning-up quickly enough, the government for not giving our community high priority treatment, the other women without kids who didn’t have enough empathy for the plight of families who had been displaced. Whenever a community forms (in the physical or virtual world), some women will naturally use it as an outlet for their frustrations and stress, dragging the rest of the group into a depressing or negative conversation.

However, the women with helpful suggestions far outweighed the Debbie Downers. They joked, encouraged, helped others in need, and shared. Our laundry may not be whiter and brighter next week, but we will have all weathered the storm because we chatted and shared. The iPad and keyboard have replaced our aprons and casserole recipes. But we still know how to traverse that picket fence!

Who are you going to be?

We all need to dress in costumes from time to time

Costumes were not available commercially until the 1930's, according to this website.

But, by the 1960s the shelves of stores like Woolworth were packed with options. (See some of the trends here.) 

By the time I was 11 or so, I was a fan of the homemade costume. My friends and I came up with fun concepts. I was a balloon man, a gypsy, and (as pictured here) Honey West, a seductive blonde who packed a pistol and fought crime.

As a mom, I loved getting my kids ready for Halloween. By then, infant costumes had come into vogue and my daughters were peas and pumpkins. (I'm not sure why, but dressing ones kids up as fruits and vegetables was quite popular.) As they got older, they became bats, Power Rangers, the sun and the moon, pirates, and cowgirls.

We all go through phases in our costume-ing. I've been scary, sexy, and unrecognizeable. (My freshman year in college I wore a mini skirt and fishnets and a rubber-y old crone mask with long flowing hair...I looked hot from the back and hideous from the front...I think I was probably making a feminist statement of some kind.)

I think I will be a boxer again this year, a reprise of a costume I wore after Hillary Swank took the Oscar for "Million Dollar Baby." I can relate to the character...bobbing, weaving, talking smart, hanging tough, and beating the odds. (Yeah, the ending was sort of grim, but let's ignore that part.)

What we choose to be each Halloween says something about our psyches. Experts agree. See here and here for some perspectives. (Hmmm...feeling Lady Gaga-esque? You might have "issues.")

Most popular costumes for 2012

The psychology of anonymity

What your Halloween candy says about you

School Supplies

Getting ready for school used to be so simple...

a wooden ruler, a marble notebook, a compass, a protractor, a pencil case (with sharpened #2 pencils), scissors, some Elmer's Glue All, and a giant box of Crayola crayons (preferably with sharpener). Here's a great infographic about the evolution of Crayola colors since 1935!

In the 1960s, we all just had to learn how to read, write, add, measure stuff, cut stuff, assemble stuff, and create things with bright colors, using manual dexterity and imagination. After school, we listened to our transistor radios and vinyl records (33's and LPs) and called our friends on our Princess rotary dial phones. If we got a busy signal, we called back. We were simple, tactile and patient.

As we got older, we took HomeEc and Shop class and learned to make useful items with fabric, cinnamon, popsicle sticks and dry cell batteries.

Now kids and adults are lost without their iPhones, iPads, multi-function calculators, PowerPoints, and Facebook pages. We need backpacks and wheeled bags to tote around all our things. 

I long for the days when a nice pair of blunt-edged scissors and a sheet of oak tag got me through the day.  But perhaps this evolution in school supplies is just the new age equivalent of Crayola's move from 8 to 64 colors.

It's not about the size of the box...it's knowing what to do with all of those hues is ultimately what matters! Creativity, knowing how to write and count, and collaborating well with and sharing your snack with the kid at the next desk are all timeless!

Here are some back-to-school tunes to inspire you as you color outside the lines:

 

School Days (Chuck Berry)

School (Supertramp; a bit obscure but brilliant)

Remember the Days of the Old School Yard (Cat Stevens)

Me and Julio (Paul Simon)

Hot for Teacher (Van Halen; couldn't resist throwing this in)

Gratitude to my colleague, musician, and inventor Bruce of Prelude for providing these recommendations! Any other "school song" choices? Just comment and add them!

 

Meat and Potatoes

It's a miracle my arteries aren't totally clogged!

When I think about all the crap I ate as a kid, I marvel that I've lived this long. 

A typical dinner in the Shenker household consisted of a big slab o'
 red meat and a heaping helping o' Tater Tots. Unless, of course, we were eating MSG-laced Chinese food or Kentucky Fried Chicken. (Look here for a great infographic of the worst fast food sandwiches nutrition-wise.) The local candy store offered kids the 1960s equivalent of crack -- Pixie Stix (pure sugar in a straw) and NikLNips, tiny wax bottles of liquid sugar. Our parents didn't think they were killing us or screwing-up our brain cells. We were just being well-fed in the 1960's.

This past weekend, I visited a Farmers Market in East Hampton and was presented with a wide range of farm-to-table options. I marvel at how fresh food has become such big business. (One can even buy Amagansett Sea Salt for $11.)

Only time will tell if "clean eating" will result in a longer life or more lucid thoughts. I sure feel better as I start my day with a heaping bowl of multi-grain gluten-free something-or-other and 0% plain Fage. Hmmm...I wonder if it would taste better if I sprinkled a little Cap'n Crunch on the top!

Links we like:

Is the Cap'n going to die like Joe Camel?

Bread is the Devil

Twinkies and insanity

175 unhealthy summer foods