If I'm not worth a brochure when I go to the trouble of stopping by your dealership for info on a new car, then you're not worth my money once I decide to buy one.
Sincerely,
The potential customer you lost
(And this one goes out to Nalley Infiniti, but it holds true for any other dealership that makes it clear that they don't think I'm worth one of their brochures.)
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Monday, March 26, 2012
Yielding the Chair
I have a chair that I really like, a La-z-boy recliner I bought back in 1998. I've slept in that chair when I was unable to lie down after surgeries or other injuries; I've written hundreds of thousands of words in that chair, with my Macbook on a wooden lap tray and my elbows resting on the padded arms of the chair.
But recently I've been sitting in the floor in front of the chair, using the footrest as a backrest instead. You see, Anna has taken a liking to the chair, and loves to curl up in the seat of the chair and occasionally put her paws up against the back of my neck while I'm sitting in front of her.
That's okay. I spent much of my childhood sitting in the floor watching TV, and I have no problem doing that again. Sure, I could move Anna--but she looks so disappointed when I do that. Instead, my cat has her own recliner, and I'm sitting in the floor once again.
Misha, our other cat, really likes this, by the way; when I'm in the floor, she can sleep right next to me, occasionally waking with a kittenish meow to encourage me to comb her for a little while. So everyone seems to get something out of this new sitting arrangement...
But recently I've been sitting in the floor in front of the chair, using the footrest as a backrest instead. You see, Anna has taken a liking to the chair, and loves to curl up in the seat of the chair and occasionally put her paws up against the back of my neck while I'm sitting in front of her.
That's okay. I spent much of my childhood sitting in the floor watching TV, and I have no problem doing that again. Sure, I could move Anna--but she looks so disappointed when I do that. Instead, my cat has her own recliner, and I'm sitting in the floor once again.
Misha, our other cat, really likes this, by the way; when I'm in the floor, she can sleep right next to me, occasionally waking with a kittenish meow to encourage me to comb her for a little while. So everyone seems to get something out of this new sitting arrangement...
Closing a Chapter
My nephew Cole and his wife Christy are tentatively slated to sell their house on Marchmont Drive in Rome this weekend. This is the house that Mom and Dad bought in early April, 1962; the house where I grew up; the house that Susan and I visited so many times; the house where so many Christmases were celebrated, along with birthdays and anniversaries; the house where we mourned Mom's passing in 2002.
But while it might seem that I'd be sad to see a house leave the family after fifty years, I'm really not. I was happy that the house was a good home for Cole, Christy, Oliver, and Dexter for four years, but it no longer meets their needs as a family, and they're ready to move on to the house that is their current home.
I considered driving back to Rome to walk through the house one more time, but ultimately decided not to do that. The things that made that home so wonderful for so many years are no longer there for me, and there's very little emotional attachment to a structure. I'm sure that, if I were to pay a visit, I would have wonderful memories of events that occurred in those rooms--but I still have those memories now, don't I?
Susan and I have owned several houses over the years in addition to our current addresses: Sumit Wood (no, it's not misspelled--at least not by me) from 1979 to 1986, Milstead from 1986 to 1996, Horseleg Creek from 1992 to 1999. We've lived at 621.5 Olive Street in Cedartown, then 621 Olive Street, then 1029 Franklin Road. Two of those homes are now run-down near-slums; the apartment is now in one of the worst areas of Marietta. The home in Kennesaw is in an area in decline; the prior home in Marietta was struck by lightning a few months ago; the farm home looked find the last time we drove past it, but it's been more than two years now since we last saw it.
Each of them were great places for us at the time, but we've moved on. Now it's time for Cole and Christy to do the same. I celebrate what the old family home was for us for many years--but at the same time, if Mom and Dad were alive today, I'd be worried about them living there, what with the changing nature of the neighborhood. And I know that Mom and Dad actually considered moving a couple of times; I don't think that they ever imagined, when they bought that house in 1962, that it would still be in the family a half-century later.
Now it's time for it to be a good home for someone else. I hope they find the happiness in it that our family has found over the years.
As I mentioned earlier, Susan and I are keeping the Marchmont name alive for our second house, so the old street name continues in a new location. Kim, Cole, Christy, Jesssica, Aunt Jean, and Susan & I all have relics of a happier time, items that we took from the home after Dad left us in 2007; we also have photos and a million memories that bring both smiles and tears. That doesn't change.
But while it might seem that I'd be sad to see a house leave the family after fifty years, I'm really not. I was happy that the house was a good home for Cole, Christy, Oliver, and Dexter for four years, but it no longer meets their needs as a family, and they're ready to move on to the house that is their current home.
I considered driving back to Rome to walk through the house one more time, but ultimately decided not to do that. The things that made that home so wonderful for so many years are no longer there for me, and there's very little emotional attachment to a structure. I'm sure that, if I were to pay a visit, I would have wonderful memories of events that occurred in those rooms--but I still have those memories now, don't I?
Susan and I have owned several houses over the years in addition to our current addresses: Sumit Wood (no, it's not misspelled--at least not by me) from 1979 to 1986, Milstead from 1986 to 1996, Horseleg Creek from 1992 to 1999. We've lived at 621.5 Olive Street in Cedartown, then 621 Olive Street, then 1029 Franklin Road. Two of those homes are now run-down near-slums; the apartment is now in one of the worst areas of Marietta. The home in Kennesaw is in an area in decline; the prior home in Marietta was struck by lightning a few months ago; the farm home looked find the last time we drove past it, but it's been more than two years now since we last saw it.
Each of them were great places for us at the time, but we've moved on. Now it's time for Cole and Christy to do the same. I celebrate what the old family home was for us for many years--but at the same time, if Mom and Dad were alive today, I'd be worried about them living there, what with the changing nature of the neighborhood. And I know that Mom and Dad actually considered moving a couple of times; I don't think that they ever imagined, when they bought that house in 1962, that it would still be in the family a half-century later.
Now it's time for it to be a good home for someone else. I hope they find the happiness in it that our family has found over the years.
As I mentioned earlier, Susan and I are keeping the Marchmont name alive for our second house, so the old street name continues in a new location. Kim, Cole, Christy, Jesssica, Aunt Jean, and Susan & I all have relics of a happier time, items that we took from the home after Dad left us in 2007; we also have photos and a million memories that bring both smiles and tears. That doesn't change.
Thursday, March 08, 2012
The Naming of Houses
For the past few months, we have referred to the two houses as "this house" and "the house across the street." Problem is, those two names are entirely based on where you are at the time.
I have ruminated over appropriate names for the two houses, when the best names were actually a part of our home history all along.
Our main house, the one where we've lived for 16 years, will henceforth be known as Lansdowne (since it is indeed located in a down--and Lansdowne was the name of the neighborhood in which we lived from 1986 until 1996), while the newer house is hitherto named Marchmont (since it is indeed on a hill overlooking Lansdowne--and Marchmont was the name of the beloved home in which I lived from 1962 until 1971, and in which Mom and Dad lived from 1962 until the time they left us, in 2002 and 2007 respectively).
The Naming of Houses is now done.
I have ruminated over appropriate names for the two houses, when the best names were actually a part of our home history all along.
Our main house, the one where we've lived for 16 years, will henceforth be known as Lansdowne (since it is indeed located in a down--and Lansdowne was the name of the neighborhood in which we lived from 1986 until 1996), while the newer house is hitherto named Marchmont (since it is indeed on a hill overlooking Lansdowne--and Marchmont was the name of the beloved home in which I lived from 1962 until 1971, and in which Mom and Dad lived from 1962 until the time they left us, in 2002 and 2007 respectively).
The Naming of Houses is now done.
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