Snow news is no news

I feel so silly sitting here waiting for Snowpocalypse or Snowmageddon or whatever portmanteau the weather wizards have dubbed the coming storm.

I’ve cancelled plans. My husband has set up a temporary office at the kitchen table. We have gas in the cars and food on the shelves. All we’re waiting for now are the flakes.

Last Saturday’s storm turned into a non-event, and we really didn’t need to cancel our plans to visit friends. At least we got to eat the chocolate cake I bought for dessert.

For tonight’s storm, which was supposed to be last night’s storm, there’s talk of feet of snow, or at least a foot or more. So far there’s been a dusting.

It was enough for me to do a quick pass over the driveway with the shovel. It was more of a warmup than a necessity. And, because I had shortened my gym workout, I wanted a little more exercise.

It’s not that I want snow to blanket the region, making travel difficult, causing cabin fever, and making commutes treacherous. Although it would be nice to have some “play inches” for some local snowshoeing or cross-country skiing.

What I really want is less nonstop coverage of snow that has yet to fall. Yes, forewarned is forearmed, but surely there must be some real news to cover in today’s world.

There may well be a major state-of-emergency, Nor’easter, blizzard, severe storm ahead. But for now, as I sit here waiting, snow news is no news.

Headlines that get noticed

Headlines have taken on great importance in today’s content-based, social, digital, marketing world.

Their job is to grab the attention of readers, search engines, news aggregators, and digital algorithms. They’re supposed to be simple, use keywords, and meet some need of readers. And, it seems, they should always provide 5 tips or 3 secrets or 9 points or 6 ways to do something.

Well, maybe. I write this blog to keep in touch with colleagues and to continually provide new writing samples for potential clients. I don’t worry so much about SEO or Google Search. What I do worry about is making sure my headlines are nothing like the ones below.

These are just a few I’ve read recently that cause me to roll my eyes and say out loud "Really?":

Headline: “Why it's so hard to pick oil's bottom”
Who hasn’t heard the saying, You can pick your friends and you can pick your nose, but you can’t pick your friend’s nose. Do we really need to update this to include picking something’s bottom?

Headline: “Chinese media to soak in Southwest Florida”
Soak? Maybe if by soaking you mean immersion in an uncomfortably hot, humid environment. At least that’s how I feel during my visits to the area. I would hope the headline writer would want to evoke a more positive image.

Headline: "Your Buying Auto Insurance Wrong!"
And this Internet ad headline is written wrong. Confusing your and you’re is a common error easily remedied by remembering you’re is a contraction of you are, while your is a possessive pronoun (it’s your turn).

Headlines: “Dow closes down more than 300 points as oil nosedives” (AP, Jan 5) in the same weekly roundup column with “Dow roars ahead 300 points after rough start to year” (AP, Jan. 8)
The way I understand math, and markets, if the Dow falls 300 points and then “roars ahead” 300, you’re back to square one. Even Steven. No loss, no gain. So why the drama?

I'm not saying any of these headlines is wrong (excluding the misused "your" headline). I just think they could be written better. Or at least in a way that doesn't distract the reader from the main story.

Now that I've had my say, I'm almost afraid to look back over the headlines I've written throughout the years. Well, any missteps will just reinforce my belief that every writer needs a good editor. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

You don’t have the right clothes

Never one to worry about fashion, I didn’t think much when someone told me I didn’t have the right clothes. We weren’t talking about couture for a high-society event; we were talking about everyday wear for life in New Hampshire.

That conversation took place many years ago, when I relocated for a new job. I was moving from the Philadelphia area, which certainly has snow and ice and other winter hazards. Still, I was totally unprepared for the cold and intensity of a New England winter. My friend was right. I didn’t have the right clothes.

What saved me was a shopping spree that included a full-length down-filled coat, fleece hats and mittens, long scarves, long underwear, wool socks, and warm boots.

What reminded me of this scenario was helping my Florida-based mother prepare for her first winter trip up north in several decades.

We both kept repeating the same mantra: layers, layers, layers. Yet our interpretations were completely different. It’s not unusual in winter for me to wear a camisole under a turtleneck under a sweater. And that’s indoors, where the thermostat is set at 66 degrees.

When my mother arrived up north at my brother’s house and put on her layers – basically a tissue-paper tank top under tissue-paper blouse under tissue-paper overblouse – she still shivered. She also fought our attempts to wrap her in a Carhartt hoodie and pashmina scarf, but the added warmth was too alluring. When we went outside, she protested against the woolen mittens because they clashed with her coat, but I noticed they stayed glued to her frozen fingers.

I was concerned the blast of frigid air would dissuade her from plans of moving up north to be closer to family, but so far she’s been a trooper. We’ve dragged her from model apartment to model apartment, and while we haven’t found her next new home, the door is still open to the search.

There’s nothing to be done about the cold of winter but to dress appropriately. And when the time comes, we’ll see to it that my mother has the right clothes.

Cloud cover isn’t picture perfect

There’s my granddad. Up on the ledge. Legs hanging over. Nearest the American flag. Watching Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower in what remains the largest parade in New York City’s history, in June 1945. Celebrating Germany’s surrender in World War II.

I found this picture while combing through old photo albums with my mother. On the back, my grandmother had written a sweet note to her son, my father, who was then serving in the Navy.

My friend is on a similar search for family history. He recently emailed about an upcoming trip to visit an aunt in Florida. “I'm taking a sharpie so she can identify people in her photo albums.”

With photo albums on my mind, I started sorting through my own stash. I removed photos from the “magnetic” albums, where a clear plastic overlay sticks to the page…and, as I found out, also discolors and damages the photos. But I have thousands of photos – from wallet size to 11 x 14 prints – stored in drawers and boxes and photo sleeves. They span my early explorations with cameras right up until I grew bored with snapping the same family celebrations, year after year after year.

Then digital cameras and, even better, smartphones became the tool to use. Where are these pictures stored? In my computer. On CDs. Saved on USB drives. A few uploaded to the cloud.

As I replied to my friend with the sharpie: It’s hard to think digital photos will ever have as much impact as stumbling across the Eisenhower photo. It's too easy to tuck them away in digital storage. “Will next generations take the time to search?”

His short answer: “No.” I think he’s right. While digital photos are certainly searchable, you often don’t know what you’re looking for – or at. And out of sight is certainly out of mind.

Nothing beats sitting shoulder to shoulder on a couch, flipping through pages to reveal long-gone relatives, while teasing out stories of days past. Huddling around a computer (or notepad or other electronic device) just isn’t the same. There are no charming handwritten notes on the back. And one bad swipe, missed click, or timeout and my tech-adverse mother loses interest. 

She still has my late father's computer, on which there are lots of family photos, but she never turns it on. If we want her to see the latest photos, we email them to the local Walgreens, which prints them out and calls her to pick them up.

She only keeps the computer around so my siblings and I can print out boarding passes when we visit. And for that small favor, I am grateful.