June 09, 2009
The Periodical Angel of Death
Brendan was teasing me the other day that is seems I am the Angel of Death for certain magazine publications; if I take a liking to your magazine, most likely it will go out of business in the very near future. There are certainly a lot of factors that play into this curious situation - trying financial times, niche target markets - and the reality is that I was never a subscriber to any of them. However, the sheer number of folded publications certainly gives one pause.
Let me sum up:
BeE Woman: A Finance and Lifestyle magazine for Woman. Even with a strange content combination, it was well-written and far more interesting than the deadly dull "Pink", a business magazine for women. Apparently other women didn't think so.
Blueprint: Not even Martha Stewart could save this "Fresh and Fun" lifestyle magazine. It was interesting and innovative in it's interior styling ideas for sure, but clearly not interesting enough for ad buyers.
Cottage Living: This little shelter magazine had simple but lovely interiors and gardens and lots of interesting articles about living is smaller spaces. I wonder if McMansion Magazine is still in publication? (Brendan says "It is. It's called the Pottery Barn Catalog. Zing!")
Country Home: OK. I only picked this up ONCE, however it happened to be its last issue. So I apologize. I did feel like it might be a worthy successor to Cottage Living. Guess not.
Domino: Another casual pick at the newstands for me, this lifestyle magazine went the way of all the others. Truth be told? I liked it not just for the good product and decorating ideas (I felt it was similar to Blueprint in its edgy/kitschy style - see BP entry), but because they had those little removable stickers for bookmarking pages. Clever. But not clever enough.
Hawaiian Style: This was actually Brendan's secret crush magazine, with its over-the-top, richie-rich, super luxury interiors and gorgeous Hawaiian architecture. It just went to the big King Kamehameha in the sky. He naturally blames me for his loss and is insisting I buy him a multi-million dollar home on Oahu to make up for it. (If I had that kind of money I would have just bought him the magazine. Like the whole thing.)
With this laundry list of now-defunct magazines as evidence, you are probably wondering what's next. Is it Ode Magazine, for Intelligent Optimists such as myself? Surely not, as that would be rather a pessimist view to take. Is it Vegetarian Times, the periodical for non-meat-based meals? Doubtful since KFC Living never really made the short-list at Conde Nast publishers. I have noticed that Tabitha has taken a perhaps-prescient interest in eating my Country Living magazines of late. Who knows. But watch out "O", the Oprah Magazine. I could be coming for you.
Posted by jessica at 06:05 PM | Comments (1)
May 28, 2009
A Platonic Love Letter to Jean Langdon
Dear Jean:
Sometimes when I am feeling blue - perhaps missing my mom - I try to pry myself out of the muck of bad thoughts by counting my blessings. There are the obvious ones, like my home, my good job, my loving and kind husband, my family, my friends... There are the more subtle ones too - like the fact that I ever had a mother who loved me so fiercely and thus the indirect gifts having loved and lost provides, such as strength of character, empathy, and the memories of having been perceived as precious in another's eyes.
Lately when I count these blessings, I find myself thinking of you. You see, I too seem to have a gift of being able to relate to teens. I love that they can still see all the possibilities for their lives and that they can engage in dialogue with little prejudice. As such, they offer fresh and uncluttered insight. I believe they appreciate my interest and reciprocate with frank and respectful dialogue, after which I believe both sides walk away having learned something.
When I think about where this gift came from and why it is I am able to relate, my first instinct is to assume it is because I recall my teen years so vividly. Losing a parent at 17 seems to create an indelible imprint of an already angst-ridden time in one's mind. But if I dig a little deeper, I believe I have you to thank for that.
I remember the first day I met you. We had an assembly in the gym and for some reason I was upset. I was crying outside, trying to pull it together so I could go in, and you came up to me and asked if I was all right. I probably looked pathetically up and you and the whole story must have been written on my face. Someone hurt my feelings. But worse, my mom was sick. You said, "Come with me." I didn't even know who you were, other than an administrator for the school. You put your arm around my shoulders and walked me to your office.
It turns out your were an Assistant Principal and you sat me down in your office and we just started talking. You never talked down to me - never made me feel stupid. We discussed life, and how big and real and scary it is. You shared a story of how you had divorced and remarried your husband because sometimes people grow apart as they grow up but if you're lucky you can grow back together. And you taught me the idea that "hindsight is 20/20" so beating oneself up about the past is fruitless. In those moments, I could feel that you were different - that you were part of the "tribe" - and thus began one my most important high school friendships.
The timeline is a blur, but moments of our friendship stick out for me so clearly. I'd stop in to your office occasionally. Once we talked about my concern for a fellow student who I felt may be anorexic. I trusted that you would do what was right without fear of retribution.
When we realized my mother probably wouldn't make it, my sister and I came and sat with you to explain and you were so compassionate, but in that perfect way that had no pity attached to it, just pragmatic caring and concern for what was right for me and my family. I remember you stopped by the hospital when Mom was there that final time, too, and I just couldn't believe someone cared so much for my well being to do that.
After she died and I had moved in with a classmate, you took me to get a fantastic haircut and a pair of Birkenstocks (quite trendy for the time), knowing it was exactly the confidence booster a shattered teen needed. You had me out to your home for dinner after car shopping for your wonderful daughter, and we just hung out and watched a movie. I remember at your house was the first time I really explored the concepts of what God meant to me and how I viewed Him as being a manifestation of our collective energy and consciousness. You never judged or tried to change my mind, but simply layered your own experiences on to mine and we built something together from that conversation.
My last memory of you is when you took me to get my graduation dress. We had that easy camaraderie and I felt so lucky to have met you. I'm not sure if I saw you again after that. I can't remember much other than the swell of gratitude I have every time I think of you and the many gifts you gave me.
I hope you know what an impact you had on me and how grateful I feel to have met you. When I count all of my life's blessings, I count you among them because you gave me confidence during the most difficult part of my life, showed me kindness, and never once made me feel like a powerless, inconsequential teen.You set the example for me and it pervades my life in ways I never really knew until now. Thank you. I hope I have the chance to return the favor one day.
Love,
Jessica
Posted by jessica at 11:51 AM | Comments (0)