Liz's Cartoon - January 2009
Liz's cartoon - October 2008
Tuesday, 6 January 2009
Monday, 5 January 2009
The Big Greek Funeral
My friend Irene’s father died 2 days after Christmas. Mike was 87 and had been ill for a while. But he died peacefully with his beloved wife Olive (of 64 years) and daughters at his bedside.
Mike was Greek and his offspring, who are first generation South Africans, honoured his request for a Greek funeral. The service took place in a beautiful little Greek church in Orange Grove. The church probably seated 130 odd people and was packed with people standing at the doors. The inside of the church is exquisite – beautiful murals of saints and angels covering the walls, gold chandeliers, gold lattice work, deep sky blue ceilings and wonderful paintings of the last supper and other saints. The senior priest was all dressed up and looked imposing in his robes – he also had a white beard that went down to his waist. The second priest was dressed in a white a blue robe and look just as imposing and was wearing Crocs *grin*. The cantor was dressed in civvies and chanted beautifully.
The service was quite long and all done in Greek - although a bit was read out in English. The senior priest gave a eulogy for Mike (in Greek) and he was quite animated and spoke with great feeling – even we non-Greek speakers could feel his respect and affection for Mike. When we filed out of the church Olive said to me that she was sorry I did not understand the lovely words the priest said – but she would tell me at another time. During the service the junior priest lit the censers and the church was permeated with the whiffs of incense.
After the service we proceeded in convoy to the cemetery and, prior to the coffin being lowered, the priest poured olive oil, soil and fresh flower petals over the coffin and prayed. Once the coffin was lowered, we all sprinkled flower petals on the coffin. We were then off again to the church hall for something to eat and drink – tables laden with glorious Greek food.
And, I guess by this stage you are all asking “where the heck is she going with the blog posting?” Well, where I am going is that it was a very impressive funeral. I think Mike would have been pleased. Yes it was lengthy, but it had wonderful gravitas. It was just what was needed to say goodbye to a man had a good long life, the service and graveside prayers were dignified and his family were comforted by these ceremonies.
Conversely, my mother’s cremation service was (not quite what we were expecting) a quick 20 minute service and the minister spent the last few minutes or so trying to recruit new members for his church. We were also asked to bring a cd of her favourite music – which took up another couple of minutes - Dean Martin belting/slurring out a song didn’t quite do it, although she might have thought this was funny! I think I would have felt a bit better with a bit more pomp and I also think she would have preferred something along the line of Mike’s funeral.
We need to set aside more time on these occasions to immerse ourselves with the ceremony – switch off the cell phones, mark off the whole day in our diaries and be in the moment.
Mike was Greek and his offspring, who are first generation South Africans, honoured his request for a Greek funeral. The service took place in a beautiful little Greek church in Orange Grove. The church probably seated 130 odd people and was packed with people standing at the doors. The inside of the church is exquisite – beautiful murals of saints and angels covering the walls, gold chandeliers, gold lattice work, deep sky blue ceilings and wonderful paintings of the last supper and other saints. The senior priest was all dressed up and looked imposing in his robes – he also had a white beard that went down to his waist. The second priest was dressed in a white a blue robe and look just as imposing and was wearing Crocs *grin*. The cantor was dressed in civvies and chanted beautifully.
The service was quite long and all done in Greek - although a bit was read out in English. The senior priest gave a eulogy for Mike (in Greek) and he was quite animated and spoke with great feeling – even we non-Greek speakers could feel his respect and affection for Mike. When we filed out of the church Olive said to me that she was sorry I did not understand the lovely words the priest said – but she would tell me at another time. During the service the junior priest lit the censers and the church was permeated with the whiffs of incense.
After the service we proceeded in convoy to the cemetery and, prior to the coffin being lowered, the priest poured olive oil, soil and fresh flower petals over the coffin and prayed. Once the coffin was lowered, we all sprinkled flower petals on the coffin. We were then off again to the church hall for something to eat and drink – tables laden with glorious Greek food.
And, I guess by this stage you are all asking “where the heck is she going with the blog posting?” Well, where I am going is that it was a very impressive funeral. I think Mike would have been pleased. Yes it was lengthy, but it had wonderful gravitas. It was just what was needed to say goodbye to a man had a good long life, the service and graveside prayers were dignified and his family were comforted by these ceremonies.
Conversely, my mother’s cremation service was (not quite what we were expecting) a quick 20 minute service and the minister spent the last few minutes or so trying to recruit new members for his church. We were also asked to bring a cd of her favourite music – which took up another couple of minutes - Dean Martin belting/slurring out a song didn’t quite do it, although she might have thought this was funny! I think I would have felt a bit better with a bit more pomp and I also think she would have preferred something along the line of Mike’s funeral.
We need to set aside more time on these occasions to immerse ourselves with the ceremony – switch off the cell phones, mark off the whole day in our diaries and be in the moment.
Tuesday, 30 December 2008
Hiding Behind Your Podium of Expertise
I subscribe to a number of blogs; some of these are dailies and others “as and when”, some are a bit off the wall, some thought provoking and others deadly serious.
One of my favourites (daily, off the wall type) is Havi’s blog, The Fluent Self. Today she used the phrase “hiding behind your podium of expertise” which I have swiped for the title of my blog – thank you Havi. And this is what Havi has to say about hiding (my comments: apply this to blogs, the way we communicate with colleagues, clients, the man in the street, family friends etc etc ….)
“The more you hide behind your podium of expertise, the more distance you put between you and the reader. And not the sexy kind of distance. The off-putting, chasm-building, “I can’t connect with this person” kind. We all ruin posts all the time by thinking we have to have a point every single time, or forgetting to admit that yeah, there are things we don’t know. Puffed-up biggified experts who speak only in authoritative lists of seven ways to do this and eight ways to screw up that … they’re a dime a dozen. They’re interchangeable. They’re expendable. We’re not coming for your expertise, really. There are all sorts of places to get that. Sure, the information is nice. But we’re really coming for you.”
Thanks again Havi.
One of my favourites (daily, off the wall type) is Havi’s blog, The Fluent Self. Today she used the phrase “hiding behind your podium of expertise” which I have swiped for the title of my blog – thank you Havi. And this is what Havi has to say about hiding (my comments: apply this to blogs, the way we communicate with colleagues, clients, the man in the street, family friends etc etc ….)
“The more you hide behind your podium of expertise, the more distance you put between you and the reader. And not the sexy kind of distance. The off-putting, chasm-building, “I can’t connect with this person” kind. We all ruin posts all the time by thinking we have to have a point every single time, or forgetting to admit that yeah, there are things we don’t know. Puffed-up biggified experts who speak only in authoritative lists of seven ways to do this and eight ways to screw up that … they’re a dime a dozen. They’re interchangeable. They’re expendable. We’re not coming for your expertise, really. There are all sorts of places to get that. Sure, the information is nice. But we’re really coming for you.”
Thanks again Havi.
Friday, 26 December 2008
Some people make the world go round
Yes, some people really do make the world go round - and are exceptionally special.
I need to talk about my cousin’s wife Avril. Michael and Avril transferred to the US towards the end of last from Germany. Another strange country for Avril – Michaels job has taken them to a number of countries and Avril has be truly amazing. She gets involved with whatever is happening locally, joins clubs, learns the language (at least they speak English where she is now – well sort of), keeps a fabulous house and is very often left on her own as Michaels work takes him off on business all over the world. And I have never heard Avril complain.
But the most special thing about her is that she is always in touch with her family – and Michaels. She is the only person I know now that takes time to buy the birthday cards and Christmas cards and, low and behold, a few days before your birthday the card is in the mail box. All too often now days, a quick birthday email is what one expects – so this “old fashioned” card makes the day so much more special – she never forgets. And not to mention the regular newsy emails about their lives, the dogs, what they have been doing and seeing. I swear Avril should put all these letters together in a book. She writes so well and it is a pleasure to share their travels and happenings with them!
She is such a star and my first resolution for the New Year is to follow her lead.
I need to talk about my cousin’s wife Avril. Michael and Avril transferred to the US towards the end of last from Germany. Another strange country for Avril – Michaels job has taken them to a number of countries and Avril has be truly amazing. She gets involved with whatever is happening locally, joins clubs, learns the language (at least they speak English where she is now – well sort of), keeps a fabulous house and is very often left on her own as Michaels work takes him off on business all over the world. And I have never heard Avril complain.
But the most special thing about her is that she is always in touch with her family – and Michaels. She is the only person I know now that takes time to buy the birthday cards and Christmas cards and, low and behold, a few days before your birthday the card is in the mail box. All too often now days, a quick birthday email is what one expects – so this “old fashioned” card makes the day so much more special – she never forgets. And not to mention the regular newsy emails about their lives, the dogs, what they have been doing and seeing. I swear Avril should put all these letters together in a book. She writes so well and it is a pleasure to share their travels and happenings with them!
She is such a star and my first resolution for the New Year is to follow her lead.
Monday, 8 December 2008
Joy – a new car!
I at long last decided to take the plunge and get a new car – well almost brand new with only 8000kms on the clock - and picked it up over the weekend.
I have had a couple of heart-stopping moments of not being able to find it in parking lots because I am looking for my old red car – this one is gold. I have a more than one heart-stopping moment thinking that fully laden taxis are heading straight for me or pulling onto the freeway at 25kph. I am still getting used to controls as they are all on the wrong side and keep flicking the windscreen wipers instead of the indicators – my brain will hopefully be imprinted soon!
I now have to teach my cat about the new car – she runs down the drive to meet me and jumps into the car for a little ride…. So she must get used to the new sound, shape and colour.
And yeah – it is so nice to drive a new car – it is comfortable, goes like a rocket (haven’t fully tested this yet!) and is lovely to drive.
I have had a couple of heart-stopping moments of not being able to find it in parking lots because I am looking for my old red car – this one is gold. I have a more than one heart-stopping moment thinking that fully laden taxis are heading straight for me or pulling onto the freeway at 25kph. I am still getting used to controls as they are all on the wrong side and keep flicking the windscreen wipers instead of the indicators – my brain will hopefully be imprinted soon!
I now have to teach my cat about the new car – she runs down the drive to meet me and jumps into the car for a little ride…. So she must get used to the new sound, shape and colour.
And yeah – it is so nice to drive a new car – it is comfortable, goes like a rocket (haven’t fully tested this yet!) and is lovely to drive.
Wednesday, 12 November 2008
Bracken: A Mighty Fine Cat
When I started my blog at the beginning of the year I vowed that I would never ever, ever write about my pet. But, I have buckled and have to share these life lessons from a little cat.
A couple of weeks ago I packed away my duvet – it was far too hot. I put one of those large waffle type throws on my bed and had some really “cool” sleeps. Except that Bracken wasn’t feeling so well and took to sleeping in the spare room on a cat cushion with her cat blanket. She also feels the heat so I didn’t think too much about it apart from missing the cat body on my bed – this probably also explains why I was sleeping so well *grin*.
Then Lisa came to stay for a week whilst her house was being fixed up after her robbery. Bracken continued to sleep in the spare room, with Lisa, and in the morning I would find both of them snuggled up, sound asleep.
Lisa moved back to her place on Sunday and Bracken carried on sleeping in the spare room on her little cat cushion and, because it has been a bit chilly at night, I would make sure she was covered up with her blanket before I went to bed.
For the past few days I had been feeling pretty miffed that my cat was still sleeping in the spare room and even dumped my bucket on a few cat friends who listened patiently and graciously to my tale of woe and rejection.
Last night, because it has been a bit chilly, I unpacked my duvet and invited Bracken to “help” with the cover. This is always a great game and I usually end up slashed to pieces, dripping blood but we do have great fun. (An aside: I now know why my maid complained that Bracken was very naughty) Anyway, when I finally had the duvet in its cover and reasonably straight on the bed, Bracken sprawled out, full length and almost had a smirk on her face.
And guess what? I had Bracken on my bed, in my bed all of last night – muddy feet and all.
The lessons:
· Cats don’t do change very well and will make this known
· Cats always win in the end because I wont ever pack the duvet away again
· The number one priority in a cats’ life is their comfort
· I now know that we just work to support them
· I do want to come back in my next life as a Bracken cat
· To have love and cuddles withheld by a cat is the worst thing in the world
A couple of weeks ago I packed away my duvet – it was far too hot. I put one of those large waffle type throws on my bed and had some really “cool” sleeps. Except that Bracken wasn’t feeling so well and took to sleeping in the spare room on a cat cushion with her cat blanket. She also feels the heat so I didn’t think too much about it apart from missing the cat body on my bed – this probably also explains why I was sleeping so well *grin*.
Then Lisa came to stay for a week whilst her house was being fixed up after her robbery. Bracken continued to sleep in the spare room, with Lisa, and in the morning I would find both of them snuggled up, sound asleep.
Lisa moved back to her place on Sunday and Bracken carried on sleeping in the spare room on her little cat cushion and, because it has been a bit chilly at night, I would make sure she was covered up with her blanket before I went to bed.
For the past few days I had been feeling pretty miffed that my cat was still sleeping in the spare room and even dumped my bucket on a few cat friends who listened patiently and graciously to my tale of woe and rejection.
Last night, because it has been a bit chilly, I unpacked my duvet and invited Bracken to “help” with the cover. This is always a great game and I usually end up slashed to pieces, dripping blood but we do have great fun. (An aside: I now know why my maid complained that Bracken was very naughty) Anyway, when I finally had the duvet in its cover and reasonably straight on the bed, Bracken sprawled out, full length and almost had a smirk on her face.
And guess what? I had Bracken on my bed, in my bed all of last night – muddy feet and all.
The lessons:
· Cats don’t do change very well and will make this known
· Cats always win in the end because I wont ever pack the duvet away again
· The number one priority in a cats’ life is their comfort
· I now know that we just work to support them
· I do want to come back in my next life as a Bracken cat
· To have love and cuddles withheld by a cat is the worst thing in the world
Saturday, 25 October 2008
Ballet Lessons
My friend Frances is a ballet teacher and very involved in the ballet happenings in Gauteng. She phoned me at the beginning of this week to say the person who was to compere the ballet festival on Friday (yesterday) couldn’t make it so would I fill in.
So, off I went at lunchtime and Frances gave me some instructions on what to do etc. and how to operate the music system. Horrors! I had to play the music as well and this involves stressed teachers mumbling a girls name and track number and then disappearing…. I think Frances saw the look on my face and went off to find an ex student to help – thank goodness. She went off to help in the tuck shop at the dinner break – this was a 7 hour marathon dance festival. Michelle was replaced with a much younger Crystal who, with about 10 second instructions from me (by this stage I was pretty savvy with what to do), grasped the workings of tape decks, cd slots and sound control. Amazing – just give it to a teenager.
Anyway, I was feeling a lot more at ease with my tasks. I was however just a little disappointed and feeling a bit inhibited that I had to stick to a script – no yelling out “Yeah for the girl in blue”, or “give the lass who lost her skirt a big round of applause”. No, it was all quite sedate and controlled.
But the script was about the only sedate thing happening back stage and this is really the purpose of this blog.
A ballet festival is the most hectic and stressful place backstage – which is where I was and hundreds of little girls, teachers, stage hands, bits and pieces of scenery, bags of props, the odd mother or two who got chased away. The teachers have groups of girls (and one little boy) or solo dancers they have to get on stage, pacify restless children, praise the ones coming off the stage, give me instructions, give us the music, make sure the kids have the correct outfits, makeup, hairstyles and so on…… The festival is the result of months of work – possibly the entire year. And some kids get and A+ and some get Cs. There are tears and disappointed faces and some very happy ones.
But here’s the thing – this is actually a public performance appraisal of the teachers. They dancers are judged by the ballet adjudicators and the teacher is judged on the results her pupils get. This is how she gets students to her studio – this is her livelihood. And all the results belted out by the adjudicator in public. And if that is not enough, during the 3 sessions in the afternoon and evening, I told the audience (the parents) 7 times that if they had a problem with the results they were to talk only to the people at the back desk. The teachers take a pounding from the parents. It is very difficult – I now know what Frances means when she rolls her eyes heavenward and says “ballet mothers”.
In conclusion: I wondered how many of us sitting in comfy offices would take having our performance review done with the entire staff and customer base looking on and allowing them to object if they felt like it. …. Not likely.
So, off I went at lunchtime and Frances gave me some instructions on what to do etc. and how to operate the music system. Horrors! I had to play the music as well and this involves stressed teachers mumbling a girls name and track number and then disappearing…. I think Frances saw the look on my face and went off to find an ex student to help – thank goodness. She went off to help in the tuck shop at the dinner break – this was a 7 hour marathon dance festival. Michelle was replaced with a much younger Crystal who, with about 10 second instructions from me (by this stage I was pretty savvy with what to do), grasped the workings of tape decks, cd slots and sound control. Amazing – just give it to a teenager.
Anyway, I was feeling a lot more at ease with my tasks. I was however just a little disappointed and feeling a bit inhibited that I had to stick to a script – no yelling out “Yeah for the girl in blue”, or “give the lass who lost her skirt a big round of applause”. No, it was all quite sedate and controlled.
But the script was about the only sedate thing happening back stage and this is really the purpose of this blog.
A ballet festival is the most hectic and stressful place backstage – which is where I was and hundreds of little girls, teachers, stage hands, bits and pieces of scenery, bags of props, the odd mother or two who got chased away. The teachers have groups of girls (and one little boy) or solo dancers they have to get on stage, pacify restless children, praise the ones coming off the stage, give me instructions, give us the music, make sure the kids have the correct outfits, makeup, hairstyles and so on…… The festival is the result of months of work – possibly the entire year. And some kids get and A+ and some get Cs. There are tears and disappointed faces and some very happy ones.
But here’s the thing – this is actually a public performance appraisal of the teachers. They dancers are judged by the ballet adjudicators and the teacher is judged on the results her pupils get. This is how she gets students to her studio – this is her livelihood. And all the results belted out by the adjudicator in public. And if that is not enough, during the 3 sessions in the afternoon and evening, I told the audience (the parents) 7 times that if they had a problem with the results they were to talk only to the people at the back desk. The teachers take a pounding from the parents. It is very difficult – I now know what Frances means when she rolls her eyes heavenward and says “ballet mothers”.
In conclusion: I wondered how many of us sitting in comfy offices would take having our performance review done with the entire staff and customer base looking on and allowing them to object if they felt like it. …. Not likely.
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