That Empty Feeling

Hello World, Happy August! We have now officially entered into the month famous for its "Dog Days" throughout history, and when we complain about the heat, we stand shoulder-to-shoulder with numberless citizens of the past, and one supposes, an equally numberless parade of them into the future and beyond. In many ways, the first few days of the new month don't seem as unbearably hot as it was in July, but now the humidity is just off the charts, and the air is as thick as a steam bath. This is a good time to stay indoors where it's cool - and even better would be that clever dog you see on TV commercials named "Wego," where every time someone says "Here we go," he brings them a cold drink. I'll drink to that! I also ask you to please keep in mind that if you're going to be visiting anyone in this area, you should bring your own sandals and Turkish towels. Speaking of the heat, it was a hot time at the ol' Safety Fair a couple of weeks ago, and that's not just a lot of hot air, believe me. The staff education team sends around notices to tell all of us that we have to go because it's mandatory - but the hospital and I are of two minds about that, and my personal feeling about it is that if they want me to go to this clambake, they're going to have to catch me first. But one of my stalwart coworkers duly attended the event as instructed, and was so overcome with the sweltering heat upstairs that he became nauseous and dizzy, and went home sick for the rest of the day - which I'm thinking is not exactly the effect that you would want from your Safety Fair, of all things. So apparently it's "Safety Last" around here, where the inaptly named fair turned out to be very much a foul-weather friend instead. And while we're on the topic of foul weather, I couldn't help but notice this screaming headline in the local newspaper on Monday: ==================== Lightening Strikes House in White Plains ==================== Now, the story goes on to say: "Around 3:30 p.m. Sunday, lightning struck the brick chimney of a house on Hemlock Circle." You would think if they could take this bolt out of the blue and spell it right in the story, there's no reason that they couldn't spell it right in the headline, but apparently that part of the scenario was just way beyond the reach of their meager capabilities at The Journal Snooze, and as we all know when it comes to spelling, a miss is as good as a mile. Of course, the spell-checker can't help you with this, since "lightening" is certainly a perfectly good word in its own right - and actually, makes this story sound rather jaunty and uplifting, like someone launched a canister of special whitening powder at this house, and bathed it with a bright luminous glow for all the world to see. Frankly, I prefer that kind of lightening to the regular kind, which is not only noisy but erratically dangerous, and I don't have to go to the Safety Fair to know that, believe me. Of course, the Safety Fair is not the only place where people have to be on their guard against danger, as there is plenty of it all around, and sometimes in the most unexpected places. That is probably why they invented one specific product in the first place, that is used to warn people of dangerous places, and we have all seen profuse strands of bright yellow "caution" or "Police" tape draped around crime scenes or construction zones, not only on television, but also in our own personal lives in a variety of situations, where the aim is to keep people out of a particular area for their own protection. It would be easy to assume that this fiery-hued tape would need no introduction, and would be universally understood by everyone the world over, without regard to age, education or language barriers of any kind. So it came as a surprise when the part-time minister at our church, whose real job is in the NYFD training division, explained that in the fire department, they call this item "Duck Under Tape," because he said that what people invariably do is walk right up and duck under it, instead of staying outside like they're supposed to. I thought that was so funny. Also at church, we had been embroiled in a somewhat testy territorial tussle with the denomination hierarchy, which threatened to turn into a legal wrangle that would have served no purpose but to line the pockets of attorneys on both sides, and which sounded about as appealing to us as walking into the proverbial lion's den, and I ought to know. Providentially for us, the good Lord in His infinite wisdom, delivered us out of the hands of our enemies, as it were, and the crisis was averted without a shot being fired, or Nikita Khrushchev banging on the podium with his shoe, and I'm not even sure who blinked first. In recognition of our deliverance, we recently held a special thanksgiving service to celebrate our history of tradition and faithfulness, and welcome a brighter future full of promise. There were plaques and proclamations for key people most closely involved in the struggle, and Council members like myself were given envelopes with a token of gratitude for our efforts. Well, that was the plan, anyway. It was a regrettably unfortunate slip-up that some of the envelopes that were given out turned out to be entirely empty, no doubt making the recipients wonder just how much their endeavors were truly appreciated, and the perplexed look on their faces said it all. So that added a hefty dose of inadvertent humor to what was already a jolly occasion - or maybe I'm just saying that because I wasn't one of the maligned individuals who got an empty envelope for all of my yeoman service in the age-old quest for freedom from oppression, not to mention, life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Now would someone please give Nikita Khrushchev back his shoe and tell him to lighten up, because after all, we all know that lightening doesn't strike the same place twice, by golly. Elle