Teressa Glazer's Favorite Things, 2008

You can tell the season of the year just by checking TV listings. The channels are packed with offerings like "Frosty the Snowman", "A Christmas Story" and animated holiday specials featuring Charlie Brown, the Grinch and Shrek.

Another icon of the holiday season is Oprah's Favorite Things. Since 2002, there's been a yearly segment in which she presents items that she thinks are noteworthy or would make good gifts. There are usually some yummy food items from obscure regional companies that are promptly inundated with more orders than they could possibly fill in three years. There's a breathtaking display of jewelry and watches. There are cutting-edge electronics- cell phones, digital cameras, camcorders, GPS devices. Best of all, the lucky studio audience members get to take the featured items home with them.

I missed this year's episode, but I can just imagine the audience's reaction to the 2008 selections: "regifting" parties to swap unwanted gifts for other, more needed, items, gift baskets of fruits and vegetables you grew yourself (mine would consist of nothing but mint and rosemary), time with a love one, gratitude boxes with notes of gratitude from various people. Noble as Oprah's intentions are, I can just imagine the audience's reaction: "Where's my car? Where's my digital camera? Where's my pashmina shawl?"

I'm an Oprah fan, really I am, but being lectured on thrift by a woman who hasn't had a financial care in the world since 1986 is just a little weird. After all, 45% of the country's population wasn't born the last time Oprah had to comparison shop.

So, I wondered, what sort of Favorite Things list would I come up with? After all, I'm walking the walk, talking the talk and clipping the coupons.

After a little thought, I came up with Teressa Glazer's Favorite Things, 2008:

1. restaurant.com As the economy started it's free fall, the first thing to go was eating out. Then I discovered restaurant.com. It's a website where you can buy discount coupons for area eateries. Right now they're running a special selling $25.00 off coupons for $3.00.And these aren't for just any old restaurants...there's the Oar House and Caruso's in Dahlonega, there's Scott's on the Square, Seabones and Pasquale's in Gainesville and Angelo's in Athens. There are lots of choices if you dine in the Flowery Branch/Buford/Gwinnett area.

It's so easy. You just buy a coupon online for the restaurant of your choice. Then you print out the coupon and go out to eat. Usually a minimum purchase of about $35.00 is required so with your coupon you get a feast for $10.00.

A few weeks ago Arthur and I had some of the most wonderful Caribbean food ever (chicken with mango chutney, yellow rice & black beans, fried sweet plantains and mango/passion fruit cheesecake) at Dante's on the Square in Dahlonega for all of $11.00 plus the tip. And we'd bought our coupon on sale for just $2.00.

Through Christmas Day, restaurant.com is running a program called Feed It Forward. Each day, you can send free $10.00 coupons to any three people of your choice. Then they can do the same. They expect to give away over $30M in coupons.

2. CVS Extra Bucks Some marketing genius had the inspired idea of making refunds easy. You scan a card at the register and not only does it keep track of your purchases and give you a 2% rebate coupon every three months, it also prints out discounts at the register. Some items are actually free- you purchase the item and then immediately get the purchase price back in a coupon. This week it's Powerade. There are lots of ways to use the card to it's best advantage and Debra Chavis, the manager of the Jesse Jewel location, knows them all. Just stop in and ask her for a tutorial. She'll be glad to help.

3. 129 Salvage Located just north of the State Patrol barracks on (need I say it?) Hwy. 129, this salvage store is always the first stop on my bargain shopping rounds. There's a little of everything- toys, electronics, cleaning supplies, office items, home decor, clothing, beauty supplies, all at greatly discounted prices. My favorite find was a beautiful blue and white ceramic tray for $10.00. It was only after I got it home that I turned it over and saw it was Limoges. Wow. Megabargain.

4. Just $2.00 This amazing little store is right in front of Wal-Mart on Shallowford Rd. My only complaint is that it isn't larger. The name says it all- everything in the store is $2.00. I get name brand beauty products for a fraction of the drug store prices. Like 129 Salvage, the inventory changes every day so it's best to stop in often. I treasure the appliqued University of Alabama fleece hoodie I found there for...that's right...$2.00.

5. pandora.com This awesome service comes from the Music Genome Project. You program your own music station. Just type in the name of a favorite artist. For example, say you like Rascal Flatts. The station will start with one of their songs, then move on to artists with similar music- Keith Urban, Tim McGraw, Brad Paisley,Kenny Chesney and Carrie Underwood. Choose Beyonce and you'll also get music from Destiny's Child, Rihanna, Alicia Keyes, Aaliyah and Mariah Carey. You can send links to your station to friends or find others online who are listening to the same music. It all free and they never try to sell you anything.

So those are my top five favorites. There are lots more- Rite Aid's rebate program, Dollar Deals and Discounts in Cleveland, the way The Times bundles two issues of the Sunday paper for the price of one so you get twice the manufacturer's coupons.

I hope the economy turns around soon. There will be lots of indicators- the stock market, interest rates, gas prices and falling unemployment numbers. I'll know for sure we're in recovery when Oprah's favorites again start including plasma TVs and UGG boots.

Shopping day signals season for optimists

It’s here. Today is Black Friday, the Friday after Thanksgiving and the beginning of the traditional Christmas shopping season.

My friend, Cheryl, takes this day very seriously. She, her mother and sister nap after Thanksgiving dinner and then are up and out of the house by midnight in order to hit the nearest outlet mall.

Their shopping is planned with military precision. They spread out among the stores then periodically reconnoiter at a predesignated location to advise each other on the best deals. Eighteen hours later, they’re back home, the majority of their Christmas shopping completed. If shopping were an Olympic event, they’d take the gold.

Black Friday has another meaning for me. It heralds the opening of the Optimist Club’s Christmas tree lot. Since 1956, the Gainesville Evening Optimist Club’s primary fundraiser has been the sale of Christmas trees and wreaths. For three weeks in November and December we take over a corner of the property at Gallery (Wolfman) Furniture on Browns Bridge Road.

The trees came in on Wednesday. They’re gorgeous Fraser Firs, personally selected from a mountaintop in North Carolina by Earl Odell, Harold Platt and Cheryl Hughes. Cheryl, Judy Kellogg, Yvonne Clarke and I are manning the wreath hut, turning the trimmings from the base of the trees into wreaths and swags.

When it came time to order trees, we were worried. In this Grinch-like economy, would people spend their dwindling discretionary income on live trees? Well, they don’t call us Optimists for nothing. We’re betting on the affirmative.

As we get the lot ready for business, it’s a good time to mention the Optimists who have done so much to bring us to this day.

Recently, our group was thrilled to have the opportunity to help the Hall County Optimist Club endow a scholarship in honor of Optimists J.H. and Margaret Holcomb and their late sisters, Mildred and Nelle.

Lifelong educators all, they influenced and encouraged three generations of area youth. J.H. and Margaret continue to do so through their Optimist work. They’re absolute treasures.

Soon J.H. will celebrate 50 years as an Optimist. J.H., who just turned 92, says he won’t be able to work at the tree lot this year. Carwell Odell, 94, won’t be there, either. We’re really going to miss them. It won’t be the same without them, but we’ll soldier on.

In the last couple of years, we’ve lost some of the tree lot’s mainstays: Jim Snow, Bob Holbrook, Mark McClure, Lowell Hipps, Virginia Ricketson-Wills, James Rowan and Haskell Stratton. These people left a legacy of happy-spirited service to the youth of Hall County. For decades they did the heavy lifting for the club. They leave big shoes to fill.

Buy your tree at a commercial location and your money goes into some anonymous corporate pocket, maybe here, maybe abroad.

Buy your tree at the Optimist tree lot and every penny goes to support Optimist projects in our area: oratorical and essay scholarship competitions, Youth Appreciation programs, Respect for Law dinners, youth golf tournaments.

So in case you’re the sort who needs an invitation, here it is: Come on out to the Optimist Tree Lot on Browns Bridge Road. Let the kids play hide and seek among the trees while you and your
better half pick out the perfect one.

Have a cup of coffee or cocoa with us and, if you ask, we’ll tell you all about the Optimist Club, the work we do and how you can become part of it.

I look forward to seeing you. I’ll be the one in the Hanukkah sweatshirt.

Originally published in the Gainesville Times, November 28, 2008

Finding caregiver may come at a price

My mother-in-law, Claire, is determined to spend the rest of her days on Long Island. While most of the family migrated south to Georgia and Florida, she remained in her house on Peconic Bay.

I can’t say as I blame her. It’s idyllic there. The bay is on one side and she’s surrounded on the other three by a nature preserve teeming with deer and fox. Southampton, with its trendy shopping and exclusive restaurants, is only a few miles to the east. In the opposite direction is Riverhead, its roads lined with big box stores and outlet malls. She could take classes, perform volunteer work and play bridge to her heart’s content. Move? Never.

Three years ago things began to change. Claire had several bad falls. Well past 80, she became more forgetful, losing keys and neglecting to turn off the oven. The dings and dents on her Volvo’s bumpers told the rest of the story. If she was going to stay in her home she would need help.

My brother-in-law, Ron, was the only family member living nearby. The work of hiring and managing a caregiver fell upon him. He did everything right. He advertised and interviewed applicants. He checked references. He kept at it until he found the perfect person. We’ll call her Jane.

Jane was bubbly and funny and energetic. She lived nearby and could spend part of each day with Claire. She took her shopping and to medical appointments. Claire reveled in the attention.

She gave Claire a reason to get up each morning. We saw an immediate improvement. She was more alert and seemed happier. It was wonderful.

Thinking back, there were some hints that all was not quite right. Jane quickly insinuated herself into the family, calling Claire, "Mom" and Ron and my husband "bro." She would bring her young children over to play in Claire’s yard and encouraged them to treat Claire as a surrogate grandmother. It creeped me out a little, but I told myself I was being petty and jealous.

It made sense to give Jane a credit card. After all, she was doing a lot of Claire’s shopping and picking up prescriptions. We made a big mistake when we failed to insist on accountability in the form of detailed receipts from the start.

Each month the credit card purchases mounted. Mostly there were increased grocery purchases but the prescription charges increased as well. Later we found out that Jane was getting pain medication prescribed for Claire by asserting that she was experiencing severe back pain.

Since Jane was the person who accompanied her to medical appointments, the physicians knew her and took her at her word.

Strong pain medication was prescribed and filled but we’ve never seen any indication that Claire actually took the pills. We’ve never found a bottle of them in the house. Indications are they went home with Jane and from there, who knows?

As Ron’s suspicions grew, the grocery store proved to be an ally. I had no idea that they could retrieve every sale charged to Claire’s card. There it was in black and white. There were purchases for pork chops, beer, huge sacks of dog food. Charged to a teetotaling Kosher grandmother with a cat but no dog.

My brother-in-law acted quickly. Jane was fired and he made a police report. While never admitting any wrongdoing, she eventually made some restitution in order to avoid prosecution.

Echoes of Jane still reverberate from time to time. Recently Claire called to ask me if she had given me or her granddaughters a particular piece of gold jewelry. She hadn’t. I suspect I know who has it.

We’ve all been affected by this experience. Each of us felt duped and taken in, none more so than Claire. She was genuinely fond of Jane, and this betrayal is never far from her thoughts.

There’s a new caregiver. We’ve learned a lot from the Jane debacle. Expectations are fully outlined and receipts are routinely checked. Things have gone well for the last year.

What makes this story so sad is that it’s so common.

As the sandwich generation struggles to care for aging parents while maintaining careers and raising children of their own, there’s frequently a need to hire outside help.

All I can say is, be careful. Be very, very careful.

Originally published in the Gainesville Times, November 18, 2008

Days of Spooky Halloween Fun, Carnivals Have Faded

I've always loved Halloween.

I still remember my favorite house for trick-or-treating. Barbara Coker always put together goodie bags full of homemade treats: popcorn balls, those no-bake oatmeal cookies that transcended fudginess and Toll House cookies at a time when store-bought chocolate chips were still a novelty. Now that I think of it, I may borrow a child and swing by her house tonight.

I miss elementary school Halloween carnivals. One of the high points of my grade-school days was the year our class at Enota hosted the haunted house. Back then there were no euphemisms. It wasn't a fall festival. It wasn't an autumn extravaganza. It was a Halloween carnival. We all wore our costumes to school and they weren't limited to story-book characters.

Game tickets were a nickel each and every classroom hosted a different game. There was the beanbag toss and the cake walk. There was the fishing game, where a line with a clothespin on the end was dropped behind a curtain. There'd be a tug and when you reeled it back in there would be a cool toy, like a Chinese finger trap or one of those BB puzzles clipped to the end.

The very best venue of all was the haunted house. The desks were pushed off to the side and covered with black garbage bags. There were spooky black lights and, as you moved through the labyrinth, scary creatures would jump out at every turn. One or two little kids always wet their pants. One year, I was one of them.

My father was the werewolf. He bought a rubber mask from a costume shop in Atlanta, tattered up some old clothes and glued fake werewolf hair all over his neck and hands. He leapt around and made scary howling noises. I was so proud of him.

Tommy West, who went on to coaching fame at Clemson and Memphis was, for that night at least, the son of Frankenstein. His dad was taller than all the other fathers and, with his blank stare, lurching walk and bolts on the sides of his neck, he gave Lon Chaney Jr. a run for his money.

Sadly, my children have never attended a Halloween carnival. Granted, they've been to corn mazes, pumpkin farms, a fall festival where the principal kissed a pig and any number of Renaissance festivals.

But somewhere along the line somebody decided to do away with the Halloween carnival.

Maybe it happened when rumors started circulating about razor blades in apples and hospitals started offering to X-ray trick-or-treat goodies. Maybe it was when costumes became more gory than imaginative and all you needed was a hockey mask, a bottle of ketchup and a machete to be fully costumed.

At least our girls got to experience trick-or-treating. Our neighborhood used to be a grand one for that activity. Each house seemed to have more elaborate decorations and better treats than the last.

One young couple underestimated the amount of candy that was required and ended up handing out wax-covered discs of gouda cheese to the last few goblins who came around.

Drew and Susan Thomas would always have some sort of surprise on their porch. One time they rigged it up so a disembodied hand would skitter across the railing whenever anyone came up the steps. But by last year all of their boys were off at college and the porch was dark.

Now 14, our youngest is a little long in the tooth for trick-or-treating. Most of the kids from our neighborhood are grown, gone and thinking of starting families of their own. Since 2006 we haven't had a single trick-or-treater.

Just as Halloween celebrations have waned, I hope they will someday wax. Perhaps by the time I'm a grandmother, there'll be a resurgence of Halloween carnivals. I'll be the first to sign up for haunted house duty. After all, I already have the werewolf mask.

Originally published in the Gainesville Times, October 31, 2008

Warning: Hamster for External Use Only

I think I was about 9 when I got my first hamster.

Every Saturday morning, my mother and I would go to downtown Gainesville. I'd try to sit patiently while she had her hair "done." That involved washing, rolling on plastic rollers and then sitting under one of those hooded dryers for about half a day. Then there would be lots of teasing with a rat-tail comb and liberal application of hairspray. So much hairspray that I'm pretty sure I know what really happened to the ozone layer.

While all these ministrations were taking place, I'd read Highlights magazine, finding the hidden pictures on the back page and learning proper etiquette from Goofus and Gallant. I knew if I'd just bide my time, there would be a payoff.

Lunch was at the counter at Woolworth's. The entrees were fairly average. It was the dessert menu that kept us coming back. To this day, I've never had a banana split that comes close to matching theirs.

After lunch, I'd drag my mother down the wide stairs to the basement and the pet department. There were colorful parakeets and delicate canaries. There was tank after tank of silvery guppies and graceful angelfish.

This was back before folks knew they were flirting with death by purchasing those tiny salmonella-laden turtles. I owned a couple of them myself and lived to tell about it. I guess it just wasn't my time to go.

What fascinated me most were the hamsters. They were just so cute and personable as they went about the business of stuffing their little cheeks full of pellets and running industriously on their wheels. Every Saturday, I'd beg for one, and every Saturday my mother would say she'd think about it.

Then finally there came that magical day when all the planets lined up properly. I started my usual plea, prefaced by, "I'll take care of him all by myself, I promise I will" and, wonder of wonders, my mother said yes. Just like that.

I had Stanley for a couple of years. He lived in a little wire cage on my desk. Each night, I was lulled to sleep by the whirr of his exercise wheel and the scent of cedar shavings.

So what has made me so nostalgic about hamsters? Recently the American Academy of Pediatrics issued a report advising families with children younger than 5 to avoid owning "nontraditional" pets such as hedgehogs, hamsters, baby chicks, lizards and turtles. Advice that sounded like common sense to me was apparently big news. I read it here in The Times, saw another item on CNN's Web site, even caught a mention of it on "Good Morning America."

So are there really parents out there who give baby chicks to toddlers who will put anything in their mouths that won't fit up their nostrils? And even if they are that clueless surely there's someone in their life who has the good sense to say, "Bernice, have you lost your mind? That Komodo dragon is gonna make lunchmeat out of little Travis."

I guess not. More and more we are officially reminded of things we ought to know already. We see it in press releases and on labels and stickers on packaging. Apparently whoever writes these caveats considers the shopping public a special kind of ignorant. Or, more likely, potentially litigious. They've taken CYK (Cover Your Keister) to a whole new level.

I think it all started when an elderly lady in Albuquerque upended a cup of McDonald's coffee in her lap. Since gravity works all and not just some of the time, she wound up with serious burns, sued the fast-food emporium for damages and ended up with a $2.86 million award (which was later significantly reduced.) Now coffee cups all bear the notice: "Warning - Coffee is HOT." Well, I would certainly hope so.

Consider these actual warnings that have been found on consumer products:

"For external use only" - on a curling iron.

"Caution: Remove infant before folding for storage" - on a portable stroller.

And my all-time favorite: "Wearing of this garment does not enable you to fly" - on a child sized Superman costume.

In the words of my idol, Harris Blackwood, "You just can't make this stuff up."

The codicil to those words of wisdom was provided by comedian Ron White when he said, "You can't fix stupid."

No, but you can try. I guess that's what press releases are for.

Originally published in The Gainesville Times, October 16, 2008

Pass Along Love of Reading at Readathon

I grew up in a family that loved to read. We received the Atlanta Constitution in the morning and the Daily Times in the afternoon. For decades my parents maintained subscriptions to Time, Reader's Digest, National Geographic, Life and Look Magazines.

When I was 6, they dug deep into their pockets to buy a set of World Book encyclopedias. When my daughter started school I dug equally deep to buy a home computer. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

One of my earliest memories is of listening to my father read bedtime stories. That nightly ritual went on for years. He had a soothing, expressive voice that would bring "Black Beauty," "Ivanhoe" and "A Little Princess" to life.

For my fourth birthday, I was given a subscription to "Best in Children's Books," sort of the elementary school version of "Reader's Digest Condensed Books." Each month I'd receive a couple of volumes in the mail. Mail is a big deal when you're 4. Over several years, I accumulated dozens of these anthologies. My mother gave them away when I was in high school. By then, I was far too cool to let my disappointment show.

About a decade ago, I was at one of Brenau University's used book sales. I spotted a weathered copy of one of the "Best in Children's Books" and picked it up. I felt like I'd stepped back in time when I saw the laboriously printed "Teressa Hamrick" on the first page.

Today, when I look at my daughters, I can see bits of my parents. One girl has my mother's flawless Irish complexion. The other has my father's laugh. And they both love to read.

When I became a mother, I vowed to remember the word "no." I would not give in to every plea for the latest video game or Barbie jeep or yet another doll. At the same time, I vowed to never say no to books. One of the resources that has helped me keep that promise is Hall Book Exchange.

It was started 25 years ago by Mary and Mac McKenzie. They parlayed Mary's enormous collection of romance novels into a used bookstore where customers can trade in their own volumes for credit toward other books. The idea was as simple as it was brilliant. There hasn't been a moment since 1983 that I've been without one of their credits in my wallet.

These credits ensured that our daughter, Rachel, read not only "The Wizard of Oz" but all of the other L. Frank Baum books as well.

They were a lifesaver as our Molly worked her way to a bachelor's degree in English.

I'm partial to their books on cassette and CD. I've listened to a lot of books I would never find time to read.

Mary and Mac are gone now but their torch is ably carried by Myra Meade, who bought the shop seven years ago.

To celebrate the shop's silver anniversary, she's holding a Readathon. For 24 hours on Oct. 17-18, there will be nonstop reading going on, with every penny of the proceeds going to the Gainesville/Hall County Alliance for Literacy. Readers are asked to collect pledges at the rate of $10 for each hour of reading. There will be local authors reading from their works and autographing books. They are donating their proceeds as well.

There will be snacks and coffee, children's bedtime stories and a morning stretch. Our girls will be reading children's stories. Rachel will be reading one of her favorites, Carmen Agra Deedy's "Martina the Beautiful Cockroach," in full cockroach costume. And you moms out there know how difficult it is to come up with a cockroach costume.

We've all seen the bumper sticker: "If you can read this, thank a teacher." I do thank them with all my heart. Here's a shout out to Marie Bennett, Louise Adams and Louise Davis, wherever you dear ladies are.

I thank James and Lee Hamrick for giving me an appreciation of the written word and Hall Book Exchange for helping me pass that appreciation on to the next generation. To show my gratitude, I'll be at Hall Book Exchange on Oct. 17 reading from (what else?) that "Best in Children's Book" from long ago.

Originally published in the Gainesville Times, Oct.2, 2008

Logged on for life; PC keeps links to the past

I'm convinced in each life there are a handful of milestones, junctures at which the decisions we make totally change the direction of our future. Some might be the choice of a trade or college major, the selection of a spouse (both first and subsequent in some cases), electing to have children or not and the adoption of a moral/religious philosophy or the failure to do so.

I would add to that list the decision to purchase a home computer. Maybe it doesn't change everyone's life but it certainly did mine.

I came to computing relatively late in life. I suspect I was one of the last students at the University of Alabama to complete a master's thesis without using a computer to tabulate the data.

I didn't really see a reason to buy a home computer until my daughter, Molly, started school in 1990. She was using computers in her classroom and I thought it might be nice for her to have one at home, too.

I purchased a Macintosh LCII with a 40 megabyte hard drive. That wouldn't be enough to run a modest word processor program now but back in those pioneering days it was a screaming machine. I spent hours playing solitaire so I could master the use of the mouse.

Then one day I loaded America Online, version 1.0. The service was in its infancy. There were a few chat rooms and I soon discovered my favorite. It was called Author's Café. It's hard to imagine today but back then literary luminaries like Amy Tan and Tom Clancy would log on to chat with neophyte writers and share valuable suggestions and insights.

It was in this chat room that I started talking with Arthur486. He was a writer living on Florida's Gulf Coast and writing for Sarasota Magazine and the St. Petersburg Times. He had just purchased his first computer and I was charmed by the way he expressed both his amazement and frustration with the new machine.

I wasn't looking for a boyfriend and certainly not a husband. I had my hands full aplenty with being a single mother, a small business owner and a fledgling computer geek. I had no intention of meeting this person, no matter how charming or erudite, face to face. As I told him at the time, "That's how people end up dead in dumpsters."

We all know the outcome of that resolution. We met in July, and by January 1994, I was Mrs. Arthur Glazer. Before the end of the year, baby Rachel had been added to the family.

Years later, my crafty husband created a shadowbox featuring both of our original modems. He said whenever anyone asked where we met, he'd just point to the shadowbox.

Since those early days, I've been through any number of computers. For six years, I used that workhorse of all laptops, the Dell Inspiron. It held every digital picture I'd taken since Molly's high school years. There was file after file of virtual scribbles, started but never finished columns, ideas for ad campaigns for the shop.

A day never went by that I didn't use that computer multiple times. Then one morning it just died.
There were no sparks or bangs. There was no dramatic death scene. It just stopped cold.

Not even Arthur, who has gone on to make computers his life's work, could resuscitate it. I'd neglected to back up any of the data and for a while it looked as though memories of Molly's proms and graduation (both from high school and college), Rachel's Bat Mitzvah and every award and honor each child had ever received would no longer have a visual representation.

Then a grouchy Arthur disappeared into his lab mumbling about people who just won't listen when they're told over and over and over to back up their systems. Hours later he emerged with the majority of the data retrieved. My hero.

So what if I hadn't purchased that first computer? There'd be no Arthur or Rachel. There'd be no Google to immediately answer any mused question, no Wikipedia to take the place of the set of World Book Encyclopedias in the bookcase.

I can't remember the last time I played solitaire with a real deck of cards. I usually find recipes online rather than in cookbooks. I shop and I sell online. Every aspect of my life is enhanced and complemented by this technology.

Not buy a computer? That's my road not taken and I'm oh, so grateful, that I didn't choose it.

(Originally published in the Gainesville Times, September 5, 2008)