Wedding Present

Hello World, Happy Veterans Day! Although now all but relegated to the scrap heap of historical holidays like Christopher Columbus, the poster child of the "what-have-you-done-for-us-lately" movement, the once mighty Armistice Day still lives on in sainted memory of the dinosaurs and those of us old enough to remember, as the saying goes, that freedom isn't free. There are scattered outposts where the day is still observed as a holiday, such as banks and federal offices, but for the rest of the world, it's business as usual on Monday. On the other side of the coin, this is counter-balanced by the Friday after Thanksgiving, where many companies are closed, creating a new and welcome 4-day weekend in its place. There are probably even places that do both as a matter of course, but really now, that's just crazy talk. In other timely news, so to speak, I was at work on Monday, a scant day after the switch back to Standard Time, punching in at 9:00 AM in the real world, and expecting to see that the time clock still showed 10:00 AM DST in the display. Not so fast - or rather, not so slow! This is the first time that I can ever remember, in the 20+ years that I have worked there, that the Engineering minions reset the time clocks before hundreds of people actually started punching in on Monday morning. In fact, for all I know, they might have changed it at the proper moment before that, so that even the weekend staff punching in on Sunday morning had the right time as well. It was just like a miracle, and one that I doubted I would ever see in my lifetime, I can assure you. For a place that could boast of many accolades for its patient care and specialty services, they have always seemed to have a lot of difficulty getting a handle on the more mundane aspects of healthcare operations. I would say that the hospital administrators skipped too many classes, or slept during their lessons, but once again, that's just crazy talk. On the local scene, I was invited by one of the neighbors to join her network on LinkedIn, the web site for professionals to connect with each other for mutual benefit, business opportunities, and career advancement. Although it must be said that connecting with me would in no way create business opportunities or promote career advancement for anybody, heaven knows, this immutable fact has not deterred my dozens of contacts from clamoring for me to become part of their various and sundry networks. Far be it from me to stand in anyone's path on the road to corporate success, so I always cheerfully accept whatever invitations come my way, and this particular neighbor was no different. However, I admit that I was somewhat taken aback when I noticed that her profile had described her thusly: ================== Alice Rand Vice Present at Barclays Capital ================== Frankly, I know nothing about what they do at Barclays Capital, and I suppose there's every possibility that there's a critical need for a "Vice Present" to accomplish their goals - and perhaps even a "Present" that all of the many and varied "Vice Presents" report to, I shouldn't wonder. It begs the question of whether this hypothetical "Present" ought to be considered, (1) a gift offered freely, or (B) something that exists in the current time, or (iii) an action term to furnish or bestow anything on others, such as an award, introduction, or opinion. On the other hand, the dinosaurs and I can't help but feel that for a person who has reached the lofty heights of upper management at Barclays Capital, it should not be beyond their capabilities to make sure that their professional profile identifies him or herself as a "Vice President" and not "Vice Present," if that is in fact what they are. Honestly, it's no wonder that the economy is all shot to blazes, and if our only alternative is to shoot back, then all I have to say is, "Present arms!" In other neighborhood news, we were all delighted when the lovely people next door (the ones who so graciously replaced the derelict fence inherited from former residents, several times removed) finally got married, and we were all invited to share in their joyous event. Of course, everyone was very happy for them, and glad for a chance to wish them every happiness, so all of the neighbors, past and present, showed up in force at the local Greek Orthodox Church last Saturday. A lot has changed in etiquette since the dinosaurs and I were taught good manners, heaven knows, and not all of it for the better, believe me. I have always understood that it is considered bad form to wear white to a wedding, but I admit that I was unprepared for the sight that greeted my eyes when I entered the sanctuary - only to be met with such a vast sea of black apparel on every side, that I couldn't help but wonder if I had somehow stumbled into a funeral by mistake. Even the bridesmaids, and the mothers of both the bride and the groom, were enveloped in billowy shades so inky dark that if they weren't actually black, they might as well have been. In the entire assemblage, there was only one other guest besides me not decked out in black for the occasion, and I cheered her champagne-colored spirit of independence as if it was Patrick Henry himself. (I have reason to believe that he had the same problem at the Continental Congress, where he was reputed to have exclaimed: "Give me liberty, or give me a room full of people who have something else to wear besides black, for heaven's sake" - or perhaps other words to that effect, I'm pretty sure.) I said to Bill later that I would certainly stand out in the wedding pictures, as a bright pink splotch in a solid black background, like a wad of bubblegum stuck on a chalkboard. We also learned that the traditional Greek wedding ceremony dates back to the 5th century, and whole service is sung by the priests, all the way through. Every ritual is performed 3 times to represent the Holy Trinity, and everything is sung both in English and also Greek, so that we began to think that we would never get out of there, and I don't mind saying that since you have to stand throughout the entire ordeal, it really started to feel that way. Interestingly, the bride and groom say nothing at all through the whole process, as there is no exchange of vows, or questions where they are expected to provide answers or objections at any point. (Which is just as well, because adding any more time into the ceremony would certainly have been about the most unpopular plan anyone could have come up with, short of setting the pews on fire, and don't think we didn't consider the idea, and I ought to know.) Finally after what only seemed like a month in the salt mines, they were pronounced husband and wife - in song, three times, in English and Greek - and the tumultuous cheering was more out of relief than rejoicing at that point, especially by the ladies in their fashionable but fiendish footwear, which is long on style but short on comfort. In retrospect, the dinosaurs and I realized that back in the 5th century, we should have suggested to the ancient Greeks that guests at the wedding ceremony ought to remove their shoes at the door and be provided with comfy bedroom slippers to wear during the service, but then again, that's just crazy talk. Or in the immortal words of Patrick Henry, "Give me liberty, or give me ouzo!" Elle