Earthquakes Aren't All That Shake Up San Francisco.

      The next time i would meet someone from the internet would be in April of 2005. Jim and Mary,a couple from England, couldn't get a vacation time that would coordinate with the barbeque but wanted to meet both Bob and I. So they first flew into Los Angeles and spent a few days with Bob while they toured and saw the sights of Southern California. Then they hopped on a Greyhound bus and rode up to visit with me for a few days. On the afternoon of Wednesday Apri1 27th,i picked them up and we spent the afternoon visiting and went to dinner.
      Then on Thursday we drove to Rob and Des'to meet up with Rion. Rion knew
San Francisco like he knew the back of his hand and agreed to be our tour guide. At first i wasn't sure how this meeting was going to turn out. Although i wouldn't allow it in the room, Rion and Jim had a long standing feud with each other. The feud began when we were in the music room one night. AOL in it's usual stellar service had booted me oflline. (Do i detect a bit of sarcasm in that statement?) Yes, that was intended sarcasm. Since AOL is my primary ISp， when they boot me offline it also boots me out of Paltalk. While i was rebooting Jim went and put on his "hat" . While Jim was gone, Rion took the mic. Jim came back and asked Rion to give the mic up, but Rion refùsed so Jim had to boot him from the room. i came back and everyone related what had taken place. i took the boot off Rion and he came back, but didn't like the fact that Jim booted him and started going off on him. i gave Rion the obligatory warning to stop,but he wouldn't relent so i had to boot him.

Read More

The Four As Of Living Small

    SOMEWHERE ALONG THE LINE, in the middle of everything
else we've been doing around the house, 1 ended up with
these four words rattling around in my head: reduce, reuse,
recycle, refuse. Over and over. It was maddening. Worse than
that song 1 promised to not sing for you. Still, when you think
about it, those four words do accurately describe the whole philosophy
of living small. It is all about reducing your use, reusing
what you can, recycling as much as possible, and even refusing
to accept (to buy or whatever) things that you honestly do not
need in the arst place. Reduce, reuse, recycle, refuse. Sing it with
me - you know the words!
    Reduce? Yes, that is, despite the irony, a very big part of 让.
This is where most people can make the greatest change, and
the easiest. Simply use a little bit less. Not a lot, mind you, just
a little. Say, ten percent. A little bit less electricity, a little bit less
water, a little bit less of everything. Could you get by with a little
less food? Ten percent? Maybe so. Not a lot, just a little. One
tenth. JoAnn and 1 started with trying to generate a little less
trash (those newspapers, remember?). From there, we worked
on using a little less electricity for a little lower power bill. After
that, it became a game we're still playing: How much less can
we use and stilllive our lives the way we want to? How much
before we say, no, that's too much. That's too big of a cut. I'lllet
you know when we get to that point. I'm still snifing around
the house, looking for places to save energy and money. It's a
challenge, like limbo. How low can we go? Ten percent is a good
start. A reasonable goal.
    We have, over time, reduced our overall electrical use to one
 of the regional average. Our water use is minimal.shoe store, 1 went
looking for a plastic bag in the house the other day and couldn't
find one. (We usually do have at least a few, but fewer all the
time.) We are steadily reducing the miles we put on our truck,
and find our lives to be more enjoyable the less we drive (traffic
here is really bad). Living small is funny that way. 1 keep waiting
for this living-small thing to be annoying, and it never is. Well,
not for us, an沪.vay. Maybe it would be if we had to have done it
all at once, or if we had been doing more to begin with, but because
we chose to do it as we did and started where we did, it's
an intriguing, fascinating game.
    Now, do keep in mind that we do not live our lives in a bare,
empty home with hollow rooms that echo. We do not sit quietly
in the dark and do nothing. Quite the opposite. Quite. Our home
is overwhelmingly full, making it easier, 1 suppose, to say no to
even more and still have plenty to do. Yes, we still do buy and
add things to our home, but we have (1 hope) become somewhat
more selective in our acquisitions. We're kind of out of room.
That makes it easier, 1 guess. Still, we do look at every potential
purchase in terms of how badly we really need or want 让. There
is a difference between the two, and just because we don't actually
need something doesn't mean we don't really want it - and
that doesn't mean we're going to say no. If we have a place for it,
it usually comes home.
    The moral here is to reduce what you can willingly, but don't
get all hinky about iιSmall reductions do add up, and it's better
to increasingly reduce what you use over time, rather than try to
reduce too much too fast and find yourself reverting back later
and regretting what you threw away just last week. Baby steps.
A little bit at a time. You can do this.
    Reuse? Oh, I'm big on that despite my height. You've probably
heard the old line, "Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without"?
We11, this takes that a step further. After I've used something
for its original, intended purpose and it no longer works
for that, 1 wonder what 1 can use it for next? Yes, this is a form of
recycling. Maybe its purest form, as it takes the least amount of
energy and effort to transition an item from one use to the next.
You want examples? Examples l've got aplenty.
    Let's sort with a quick, easy one. We get fake plastic credit
cards in themail with applications that we shred and recycle.
The fake cards are of the "Your name here" variety, and maybe
we could throw them in the plastics recycling bin, but they do
make great bookmarks, so we save them for that. joAnn and 1 always
have a stack of books to read, and it's always nice to have
a few extra bookmarks at the ready. These fake plastic credit
cards work great for that. And they're free!
    1 do a lot of fussing around with bicycles (big shock there,
1 know) , and it always grated on me to have to throw away old
bicycle tubes when they could no longer be repaired. Yes, I'd remove
the valve core and add 让to my now endless supply thereof
(and geez, Louise, how many do 1 rea11y need?) , but the tube
itself? There must be something 1 could do with that. One day
1 was rebuilding a bicycle with drop (racing style) handlebars,
and 1 didn't have any handlebar tape for the bike. And, since 1
planned to simply give the bike away, 1 was somewhat reluctant
to go out and buy a brand-new ro11 of handlebar tape for a bike
1 was just going to offer out for free in the driveway. 1 did, however,
have an old tube off the bike that was blown out. No way
to repair that. l'd have to pitch it. It wasn't even recyclable. Then
it dawned on me: 1 cut the valve stem section out of the tube,
split the rest of it long ways, and then cut that in half long ways
again. 1 now had two perfectly good long lengths of black rubber
handlebar tape, and they worked like a charm. Strips of bicycle
inner tube are stretchy, making them easy to apply, and very
cushy and grippy for your hands. It was perfect! All 1 threw away
was about two inches of the old tube where the valve stem was.
Much better. Now, these days, that's all 1 ever use for handlebar
tape. 1 have a nice, steady supply of the stuff from all the old
tubes that can't be repaired. Reuse is good!
    Broken spokes get reused as wire hangers (when 1 paint
bike parts) , the twist ties from bread wrappers hold bundles of
spokes for later use and even those wide-mouth plastic peanut
butter jars (low 臼t， of course) are perfect for storing small bike
parts. Everything we recycle gets scrutinized before it goes into
any recycle bin, and certainly before it's thrown away. Can we
use this again for something else before it goes wherever it's
going next? What else could this be? Once you start looking at
everything you use in your life, reusing things from one activity
in another becomes second nature and a great challenge as well.
Pick it up, turn it around, and look at it again. What else could
this be? Maybe I'd better save it. You never know.
    And of course 1 reuse (or do 1 recycle?) entire bicycles. I'm a
nut about this. Just ask my wife. We have several bicycles in our
collection that came off of trash piles and at least one that was
pulled out of a ditch. (For a while there, we had a nice one we
pulled out of a lake!) More often than not, whatever bike 1and
in my travels gets pxed up and given away. I've probably given
away hundreds over the years. 1 get them to work, then simply
wheel them out to the end of the driveway with a "FREE!" sign
on them. They are usually gone within minutes. 1 really do like
looking up from whatever I'm working on in the garage and seeing
one of my former free bikes go by with its happy new owner.
One less car, one bike at a time. Found bicycles that honestly
can't be fixed are salvaged for their usable parts to help other
bikes, and their unusable components really are recycled. 1 currently
have an old Schwinn 1Yphoon frame hanging from the
rafters, in need of wheels before 1 give it away. Interested? 1 just
found a set of wheels on my morning walk. We can make this
work!

   

Read More

Black Catholics and Their Church

    THE BLACK CATHOLlC BISHOPS I of the United States issued their fìrst and, to
date, only pastoralletter, What We Have Seen and l-leard,2 in 1984. They did
so in recognition of their belief that "the Black Catholic community in the
American Church has now come of age." This coming of age, they noted,
brings with it the duty, the privilege, and the joy to share with others the
rich experience of the "Word of Life. " stylishplus, Today, we are witnesses to further signs of that coming of age. African American Catholics4 are today asserting their rightful place in the Roman Catholic Church, nationally and global Basing our claÍ1n for recognition and inclusion on our history in the Alnerican church, which predates the Mayflower, our persistent faith gives living
expression to the "Word of Life," which we have received and which we fu l1y
embrace:
    you are no longer strangers and sojourners, but you are fellow citi zens with
the saints and members of the household of God, built upon the foundation
of the apostles and prophets, Christ J esus himself being the cornerstone, in
whom the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple
in the Lord; in whom you also are built into it for a dwelling place of God
in the Spirit. (Eph 2: 19-22)
    Strangers and sojourners no longer, African American Catholics can no
longer be required, in the words of the Psalmist, to ". . . sing the Lord's
song in a strange land" (Ps 137). Instead, we are taking down our harps and
converting that "strange land" into a honleland, one rich with the woven
tapestries of our voices lifted in praise and song; of our spirituality expressed
in deep and heartfelt prayer and preaching; and of our cultural heritage a
colorful nlixture of peoples of Africa, the Caribbean, the West 1ndies, South
America, and North Ameri ca.

Read More

ÄLEX WORTH STRODE

    ÄLEX WORTH STRODE down the fancy marbled hallway, looking for his roorr•his
"suite.'J He never thought a guy like him would be staying in a place like
the Cayo Sueño Resort. :Finally I an undercover assignment with perks.
    His conscience spoke loudly in his head. Remember how you got here.
DonJt forget whafs at stake.
    He ignored the stab of guilt and kept walking. There. on the left. Room
-Suite 809. He disengaged the lock and swung the door open. The fìrst
thing he noticed was a pair of sandals in front of the couch. The, cherry-red
high heels had "seduce me" written all over them.
    Alex glanced at his magnetic hotel card key and then checked it against
the door number. He was in the right place. He looked back over at the
sexy sandals. Talk about service. The hotel room came with a woman.
    "Hello?"
    He listened intently for any sound of movement. Nothing.
    After setting his carry-all in the foyer, he slammed the door shut as a
warnlng.
    Still no answer. The thick carpet muffled his steps as he moved farther
into theωe. He called out 刷n . hìs voice echoing off the pale 仰ered 号
walls.
    "Hello? Anyone here?
    He poked his head into the bathroom . No woman ,just a makeup bag
on the vanity and a used towel hanging on the shower rod. The living room
was empty, too, except for the lingering scent of perdume. Something floral,
but somehow smoky...
    A lace--edged bra and matching panties were carefully arranged on the
couch cushion. Alex smirked. Who was this woman? The bright red lingerie
had been laid out precisely, like she'd wanted to see how they'd look on
her body. He picked up the' bra, trying to imagine the breasts that fit into ìt.
The satjn fabric feU slippery between his fingers and it wasn't hard to
picture a hot babe who was equally stick.
   He dropped the bra back on the couch I scooped the sandals off the
floor and headed for the other room. Maybe the woman was lounging on
the bed silently waiting for him.
   Nope. No such luck. What the hell was going on? How did she get into
his suite, and more importantly, where was she now?
   Two small suitcases sat against the wall beside the closet. He set the
shoes down and f1ipped one of the luggage tags around. Apparently
Meghan Elise Foster was visiting Florida from Baltimore, Maryland. He had
a name now, but her reason for being here was stìll a mystery.
   He'd been invited to Cayo Sueño by Rogelio Braga, his connection in
the Miami cartel. Braga was 'Supposed to introduce him to the infamous
Frankie Ramos. So Alex couldn't trust an叭hing about this trip, not even
bright red panties that begged, "touch me." Too many good agents had
been compromised in situations just like this.
   A third suitcase lay open on the. bed. It was half full , as if she'd been
interrupted. He didn't hesitate over rummaging through the contents. He'd
worked undercover too long to let a Httle issue Iike privacy stop him. He
had to know who this woman was.
   The ''touch me" panties and "seduce me" sandals didn't go with the.
clothes laid out on the bed. Qual1ity t with recognizable labels, but kind of
plain. The skirts were long, the necklines high and everything was a solid
color, not a stripe or pattern in sight.
 

Read More

FOR PASTORS ONLY: CAN WE TALK?

    Luke and 1 are friends with a couple from church named Clay and
Tammy, who have become very dear to us. We sometimes eat Sunday
lunch together at a local buffet. 卫1Îs restaurant has a carved-meat
counter where the same man has worked as long as we can remember.
He greets every single woman with, "Hello there, pretty thang!
How are you doing today, foxy mama?" and if he weren't so portly
and innocent (and if he didn't cook such a great steak), 1 might be
offended. As it is, we laugh it off and go our way.
    Our children and husbands didn't know this man always made
such comments, and one particular Sunday, Clay and Tammy's
daughter ran back to tell her dad that the man at the meat counter
had been flirting with her mother. Tammy wasn't back to the table
yet, and Clay just laughed like it didn't affect him in the least.
    there have been many women who have approached me
privately by email for wise counsel in the midst of trying times both
personally and within the church. Because 1 don't know them or the
church situation, they feel free to divulge the details they've been
forced to hold back. It's a release for them and a ministry opportunity
for me. On the ßip side, I've also dumped on a long-distance
friend who just happens to work in the pastoral care office of a large
church. It's such a relief to be able to teIl it all to someone without
repercusslons.
    1 do feel the need to caution you against overdivulging sensitive
details on your public postings. 1 have cringed while reading the blogs
of some ministry wives, knowing there would likely be repercussions
within the church body when the content was shared on Sister Susie's
Hotline. If you think your church members don't know you have a
Web site, think again! Be wise when writing and always consider
whether your take on a situation could be hurtful, misconstrued, or
just ßat-out inappropriate to share in the blog format. Bottom line,
if you wouldn't want your husband reading it from the pulpit, then
don't publish!
    The danger in blogging is the temptation to withdraw from faceto-
face relationships and immerse oneself in a virtual reality with no
real personal obligation. In a busy world that is already disconnected,
the convenience-store mentality of friendship only serves to heighten
isolation. Blogging should never be used as a replacement for ßeshand-
blood relationships but rather as a wonderful addition to them.
If you are as blessed as I've been, it can also be a tool for meeting new
friends whose paths may never have crossed your own otherwise.
   

Read More

We are called to trust.

    First Peter 3:6 says, "Just as Sarah obeyed Abraham, calling him
lord, ... you have become her children if you do what is right without
being frightened by any fear" (NASB).
    This verse is found in a passage describing how a woman's
beauty is to be found internally instead of externally (verses 1-5).
Among other things, Peter describes how a woman should be in
willing subjection to her husband, even if he is not a believer. Dread
shouldn't motivate her in yielding to him, but rather a healthy fear
of God's mandate to honor her husband. Sarah's singular obedience
was dually blessed. She wanted to obey God by following
Abraham. God's laws are not arbitrary and are not given without
benefit attached. Sarah's reward was the gift of inclusion into the
blessing of the nations that God had intended through Abraham.
If we seek to surrender our lives to God's will through His call on
our husbands, we will be given the blessed distinction of being a
daughter of Sarah.
    So what does this type of obedience look like in a minister's wife?
Certainly the amount of reluctance you are feeling toward this role
will dictate the type of faith it will take to accompany your husband
into the unknown. Hear me well when I say that no matter how
much initial trepidation I feel when God asks something of our family,
He has yet to call Luke to a task without also piercing my own
heart.
    D o you work outside the home but do your b est to participate in
the body when possible? The church knows this and for the most
part will understand. (Oh, there will always be exceptions!)
    However, what they will n ot easily forgive is when yo u take
a seat in the back and refuse to play a part able or n ot. There
are many women who are embittered by the demands the church
has placed on their family's life and time; therefore they refuse to
support their husband's ministry or the church b ody in any way,
shape, or form. We'll discuss in a later chapter the delicate balance
between home and church life, but let's just say for now that
this attitude is extremely unhealthy and can be a huge detriment
to your husband's relationship with the church. The support the
congregation perceives your husband receiving from you and your
willingness to care for them even if you aren't able to do all that
you'd like is a bridge between their h earts and your man's. Just like
Sarah and Abraham's situation , your participation in his call is not
only nice but necessary for him to effectively live out what God
will do through him, whether you realize it now or not.

Read More

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

    Dear reader, you hold in your hand the product of the hardest thing
I've ever done short ofbirthing children. This book was written 
poolside,playground-side, and in various rooms in my home to a steady
soundtrack of SpongeBob SquarePants and Hannah Montana. There
were many days I didn't think I could finish, but I've learned afresh
that God is not keen on abandoning a good work He's begun.
    In giving thanks, I have to bow first to my Savior and King, Jesus
Christ. You know I never asked to be a preacher's wife and certainly
never considered myself worthy to presume advising others. Only
You know the reason You orchestrated every perfectly timed detail
that produced this book. Only You know why You chose me to give
courage to the women who faithfully serve You by upholding their
minister husbands. Your body is precious to me, and I love You for
allowing me to be a pinkie toe in it.
    Luke, Sawyer, Elijah, Sam, and Sydney I wish we had a nickel
for every time during this pro cess that I said, "Does this sound
goofy?" or ''Guys, can you please just give me a few more minutes
of quiet?" I also wish I had one for every time you said, "You can do
this, honey!" or "It's kinda cool to have a mom who's writing a book."

Though it goes without saying, you guys are pretty cool too.
    To all my parents it seems I got most of the words in our family.
Thank you for teaching me to use them and being patient while
I did.
    Pop you taught me to laugh from the deeps. You truly were my
Barnabas, and I still miss you every day.
    Grandmommy your love for the written word and skill for
storytelling always bound me to you. I think you would be proud to
have another bona fide author in the family.
    To John Blase I'm so happy you read girl blogs and that somehow
God led you to mine. Thank you for seeing something I didn't
and for refusing to settle on a title that was less than perfection.
    To Don Pape blessings on you for taking a chance on a smalltown
preacher's wife. I will always keep the email in which you used
the phrase "Da Bomb." It sealed you in my heart forever.
    Susan Tjaden I never dreamed a day would come when I could
use the words my and editor in the same sentence. What is even more
unimaginable is that I can also add friend to the mix.] esus knows my
insecurities and sent me someone who has been a gigantic serving of
encouragement with a side order of belly laughs. I can never thank
you enough for using your enormous skill to make my work look
better. Much love to you, my editor friend.
    Bonnie Bruno when we met, ours were two out of eight million
blogs on WordPress. That the Lord crossed our paths seems a
statistical impossibility, and yet you appeared and began nudging
and coaching and loving me into writing with purpose. You are a
mentor like no other. And since we've never spoken on the phone,
I'm not altogether sure you aren't an angel. What a silly thing to

wonder of course you are.
    Linda Attaway you complete me with your affinity for details.
Thank you for volunteering to clean up my messes.
    And finally, my darling fellow ministry wives your insight
through my many blog surveys was invaluable in creating the content
for this book. I've done my best to give you God's Word in
answer to many issues we face. Each of you is precious to me, and
it is my desire above all things that you will walk away from this
volume assured that God wasn't mad at you when he made your
husband a pastor. He has entrusted you with tending to His body,
which means you, girls, are special. Remembering that will help you
love His people well.

Read More

Beauty is as beauty does

    I once had a young lady ask me, "why is it that the guys I like don't like
me, and the guys who like me, I don't like". Some cultures still match up
couples through matchmakers or by arranged marriages between families.
I remember thinking in college that I was not having much luck on my
own and n1aybe these cultures had it right. Today we are going to address
the art of flirting, letting the guy you like know in an "appropriate way"
that you are interested. What do we do? What do we say? We often become
so unsure of ourselves that we resort to dressing and acting in ways that
don't really represent who we are, in order to get a guys attention. Or, in
sharp contrast, we clam up and become a wallflower that doesn't know how
to talk to a guy and even runs from a room if one approaches.

    God has given you gifts and talents. One n1ay be a talented athlete who
has the gift of humor, while another may be talented in music and have the
gift of grace. Being comfortable with who you are, is the key to flirting.
I will talk a lot about not buying into the world's view of relationships,
except in this one case. If you watch a television show and just focus on the
characteristics of women who are flirting, though usually inappropriately,
they all appear very "sure of themselves".

    Here are some questions to think about:
    Do you look your friends in the eye when they talk to you, but look away
from a guy you like?
    Do you actually talk to the guy you like or tell a friend to talk to him?

Read More

It's Good For You

           
         A spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go
         down, in a most delightful way.

                     Richard M. Sherman and Robert B. Sherman





    Cod liver oil.
   
    The words make me cringe as they did in childhood. Those
who are familiar with this elixir know what I mean. For those
lucky enough to have escaped cod liver oil, get down on your
knees and give thanks.

    The product is what the name implies; it's oil extracted from
the liver of codfish, rich in vitamins A and D. Mothers believed
that a daily dose warded off, cured, or lessened the severity of flu,
colds, colic, coughs, croup, headaches, warts, boils, piles, mumps,
styes, scarlet fever, measles, chicken pox, whooping cough,
dandruff, head lice, bedwetting, heartburn, growing pains, polio,
constipation (or the reverse), or anything else that ailed you.

    "It's good for you," Ma claimed as she poured the liquefied
fish into a spoon. We kids scattered in all directions.

    "You can take sugar with it," Ma promised, trying to
persuade us to come out of the locked bathroom.

    "It's the smell that's so bad, not the taste," she tried as Poppy
pulled one of us feet first from under the bed. "You won't taste
it if you hold your nose."

    Lies, lies, lies. Nothing disguised the taste. Think of the
vilest thing you have ever tasted. Cod liver oil is a zillion times
worse.

    We tried this ploy: "There's no use making me take it; I'll
throw it up."

    Ma replied, "I'll give you another dose until you keep it
down."

    It was better to take it once and be done with it. It didn't
help to gulp the oil down fast -well, you really couldn't. The
goop coated your tongue, teeth and throat like a layer of glue
and the taste and odor lingered all day.

    I have a hazy memory of standing in line in grade school to
take a spoonful of cod liver oil. I must have dreamed it; I can't
believe they could have made children do that-lambs to the
slaughter, so to speak. I need verification from someone who
remembers that this actually happened.

    Imagine teachers saying, "Boys and girls, right after the
Pledge of Allegiance the school nurse will give us our cod liver
oil so we'll stay healthy."

    They would have had a mutiny on their hands, even in those
days when children were seen more often than heard.

    I recently checked the shelves at the pharmacy. Cod liver
oil now comes in mint flavor. Mint flavor? Who do they think
they're kidding?

    The bottle has a warning: Keep this preparation away from
children.

    Sure-now when it's too late for me.

    Time marches on; I now take daily fish oil capsules. They're
tasteless. Really, they are. They're good for you.

    Every fifteen minutes, MeN eill interrupted with "Let's all
march around the breakfast table." He, the cast, the audience, the
guests, and folks across the country did just that. The program
ended with a hymn and a silent prayer, led by McNeill. "Let's bow
our heads in prayer. Each in his own words, each in his own way."

    McNeill signed off with, "Don't forget Don McNeill and his
gang saying so long and be good to your neighbor."

    He died in 1996 at age 88. I still recall the booming voice
that woke me five days a week when I was a child.

    Another voice that stressed being a good neighbor was that
of Wynn Speece. Several years ago, while listening to National
Public Radio's All Things Considered, I heard a woman reading
a recipe and knew at once it was Your Neighbor Lady. The
occasion was her 6oth anniversary of broadcasting from
Yankton, South Dakota's WNAX 570, The Great Station of the
Great Plains.

    Although the show was called Your Neighbor Lady, Speece
was usually referred to as The Neighbor Lady. She began
dispensing household hints and recipes in 1941, before the term
"stay-at-home mother" was coined. That's where most mothers
were, at home, tuned into their radios while working. On July
14, scores of women across America's north-central prairie
found a new companion, a confidante, and a neighbor in Wynn
Hubler (later Speece). Her greeting, "Hello there, good friends,"
reached ten states and Saskatchewan.

    For women isolated in the country or in small towns, The
Neighbor Lady offered a connection to the world. Proof came
in truckloads of letters.

    Mrs. H. J. Larson, Sturgis, South Dakota, wrote, "You're
the only neighbor I can visit with each day, for out here on the

western prairie, people live much farther apart. Sunday is the only
visiting day. Now, since gas rationing, there's little visiting. You can
understand how glad I am when your visit comes each day."

    Those in households without electricity often saved
their radio batteries for favorite programs. Women chose
The Neighbor Lady over the polka music of a young WNAX
accordionist, Lawrence Welk. Alma Davis, Wessington Springs,
South Dakota, wrote, "I never realized how much I would miss
your program until the radio battery ran down." One woman
wrote that her husband conveniently managed to take his coffee
break when the program was on. Future homemakers heeded
TheN eighbor Lady's advice, too. Esther Enders, Winner, South
Dakota, wrote that her young daughter explained to her brother
how to set the table, "The way The Neighbor Lady told us."

    Winifred Hubler was born in 1917 in Marshalltown, Iowa. At
Drake University, she wanted to major in Home Economics but
Drake did not offer that program, nor her second choice, a radio
major (wary of this passing fancy they didn't want students
pursuing hopeless futures). Hubler opted for drama and minored
in broadcasting. After several disappointing auditions for soap
operas in Chicago, she returned to Des Moines and landed a
role on a WHO Radio soap. Also beginning a career there was
a young sport's announcer: Ronald "Dutch" Reagan.

    In 1939, Hubler accepted a job at Yankton's WNAX as a $20
a week continuity writer. Later, she had a fifteen minute Sunday
morning program called Ways To Win With Wynn Hubler,
offering premiums from advertisers. That did so well that she
was given another fifteen minute, six days a week program
directed at housewives. The title, Your Neighbor Lady, came
because of Hubler's bit role on the station's western soap opera,
where she was referred to as the main character's neighbor lady.
Although single and only twenty-three, housewives accepted
her because she made them feel their work had value.
 
    When Hubler became engaged to Naval aviator Harry
Speece she kept it a secret. Returning from her honeymoon
in 1945, she revealed the news on air by calling herself Mrs.
Neighbor Lady. Beatrice Lovick, Wallace, South Dakota, wrote,
"My Dear Mrs. Neighbor Lady: I want to congratulate you on
your marriage. You seem a little more like one of us."

    Now a war bride, Mrs. Neighbor Lady identified with
women whose husbands were away. Harry Speece became
known as HH (husband Harry). With Speece's first pregnancy
in 1947, she began broadcasting from home. Over the years,
fans celebrated the births of three Speece children and the
addition of a teenaged foster daughter. Now their radio friend
was a housewife and mother, practicing what she preached.
Listeners were amused when one of the children disrupted the
broadcast.

    The program was a vehicle through which women shared
love and concern for family, friends, and strangers. Speece
read notes from listeners in which they asked for prayers or
cards for someone who was ill or in need. Women responded
by forming prayer circles and sending cards and gifts to those
mentioned.

    By the late 1960s, clutter of other stations meant that
WNAX reached only parts of South and North Dakota, Iowa,
Nebraska, and Minnesota. In 1973, with radio having lost
much of its audience to television, and the women's movement
convincing housewives that they would find more satisfaction
outside the home, Speece decided to end her thirty-two year old
program. She was barely off radio before she was on again. As
Marketing Officer for First Dakota National Bank, one of her
public relations ideas was an interview program called Market
Basket. In 1984, WNAX officials asked Speece to reprise Your
Neighbor Lady. She said, "I never ceased being Your Neighbor
Lady, in spirit at least."

    The annual Your Neighbor Lady booklet gave women a
chance to contribute recipes, quotations, household hints, and
pictures of themselves and their families. Letter excerpts were
included: "We are three generations listening to Your Neighbor
Lady. I have memories of listening to you over a cup of coffee
with my mother, as my little girl and I are doing now."

    Each issue of the book opened with pictures of the Speece
family, but recipes were its heart and soul. Those vintage books,
which originally sold for thirty-five cents to a dollar, now bring
as much as a hundred dollars at auctions.

    Speece said, "The recipe books are an important record of
those special years. We printed a thousand the first and second
years, then five thousand and finally twenty thousand."

    The content and pictures within the books are a nostalgic
and historical portrait of the past, with wartime recipes for
meatless meals, tips on raising children, conservation ideas,
and a fashion parade of clothing from feed sack dresses to
miniskirts and hair styles from tightly-permed to elaborately
constructed beehives.

    In 1999, CNN featured Speece on its Sunday morning show:
Across America With Larry Woods. Woods learned while
researching his subject that she was America's longest-running
radio personality. He and his crew spent two weeks filming
her routine. Speece commented, "We started at eight in the
morning and went to eight at night. I wore 'em out."

    While recovering from a heart attack, Speece taped another
week of shows from her dining room table. "I'll retire only
when I have to," the great -grandmother said. "I'm grateful for
all these good years, knowing I was in the right place at the
right time."
   

Read More

HEAD OVER HEELS

    IT HAPPENED in Milan at a 2008 Prada fashion show. 111 was having
a panic attack, my hands were shaking, " a runway model recalls.
Some of the girls were crying backstage, they were so scared." Why
the dramatics-An act of terrorism? An explosion? Had the prime
minister been assassinated? No. These women were fearful of walking
down the runway in the season's extremely high heels. Two models
tripped and fell; they were helped to their feet by members of the
audience. One was so badly shaken she went backstage and never
reemerged. The other finished her walk carrying her shoes and
received a standing ovation.
    Since that day, models in strappy five-inch heels have stumbled at
fashion shows presented by the designers Gucci, Miu Miu, Herve
Leger by Max Azria, Emilio Pucci, Dsquared, and Rodarte. At a
2009 Brian Reyes show in New York, the pointy Manalo Blahnik

pumps the models wore caused so many topples and were so uncomfortable
that by the finale, every model was walking barefoot. 2 According
to Harper's Bazaar, ~~the runways looked like an episode of ER. "3 In
1994, Naomi Campbell fell wearing nine-inch-heeled shoes during
a fashion show of punk British designer Vivienne Westwood. But that
had been a onetime event. Fifteen years later, models were dropping
like flies. Meanwhile, models who rationally renounce menacing
footwear pay a professional price. In 2009, several world-famous
models refused to wear stilettos with ten-inch heels down an Alexander
McQueen runway and were cut from the show.
    If fashion models, who are paid to wear the creations of designers,
cannot wear extreme heels, who can? Well, many ordinary women
have been making a go at it over the last decade. Shoes with heels of
five, six, even seven inches and bondage-themed straps are marketed
to us as of-the-moment, edgy, and fashionable. These "bad" shoes are
in the stores, and women are actually wearing them, not only in the
evening when they go out to dinner, a party, or a show-but all day
long. "Over the last several years," observes Jessica Morgan, who
chronicles celebrity fashion faux pas on the Go Fug Yourself website,
11we've seen designers creating increasingly crazy heels-shoes that
runway models can barely walk in, and that we're scared to even wear
out of the house for fear of taking a tumble at an inopportune time
(like, say, in front of a bus). Regardless of the insanity of some of these
shoes, we've still seen women whipped into a frenzy for them."
    InJune 2009, Vogue editor Andre Leon Talley, a regular frontrow
guest at designer fashion shows, demanded an end to the madness.
After considering the ubiquitous 'owering torture chambers,
often poorly designed for the well-being of the foot," he declared,
1'1, for one, am over the mania for the high, high heel. Too many
career women look like a herd of fashion beasts, aping one another
in impractical shoes." Talley pointed out that women in previous
generations knew how to look elegant without martyring their feet,
and said that women today should reject designers' creations. ~~I do
like to see women who know how to glide gracefully along on a sensible
low heel. "
    There is no denying the fact that when a woman is wearing 11bad"
shoes she gains sex appeal. Heels change your posture, making the
body look more curvaceous because the pelvis and bust are forced to
tilt forward to compensate for the shift in balance. Your legs seem
longer, and your gait, sexier. There's a reason that sex symbols always
wear heels.
    Many women, at least some of the time, want to be sexually
appraised. They want to feel sexy and they want others to judge them
as sexy. Sometimes when they walk twenty city blocks to work, or push
a stroller, or dash to the market for groceries, or enter a conference
room, they imagine they are strutting down a runway. Life may be
messy and hectic, but a little bit of appreciative physical attention can
go a long way in boosting a battered self-image. High-heeled shoes
are not comfortable. They are not practicaL Often, they are not
affordable. But a good pair of high heels can make a girl feel like a
rock star.
    And they had better. Any woman who has soaked her feet after a
day's work, or bandaged up her bloodied heel, knows: stumbling is
just one of the consequences of high-heeled shoes. They hurt.
Sometimes, they hurt bad. What every woman doesn't know, however,
is what I'm concerned about, and the reason I wrote this book. It's a
fact: When worn on a regular basis, any shoe with a pointed toe and
a heel over one and a half inches-let alone five-can cause foot
deformity. In this type of shoe, the wearer is forced to walk on the
balls of her feet, which leads to misalignment of the structure of the
foot. In time, gorgeous shoes will create ugly feet, not to mention
pain that shoots from the foot to the knee to the hip to the back.
    In this book I explore the phenomenon of women choosing to
wear 11bad" shoes. Women love them despite the fact that medical evidence
is unequivocal: they are physically damaging. And this is nothing
new. Women in the West have been wearing 11bad" shoes on and
off for over five hundred years, while women in the East have been
seduced by 1'bad" shoes for even longer. Trying to have a rational discussion
with shoe-loving women, that they really ought to make more
sensible footwear choices, is nearly always futile. But I'm here to make
a plea. Feet are important. They will carry you around for the rest of
your life. You need to take care of them.
    To the reader who loves her high heels: My fervent hope is that
when you finish reading this book, you will choose to reduce the
amount of time you spend standing and walking in them. I'm not
telling you to stop wearing them. I wear Hbad" shoes too-but in
moderation. Be smart about how often you wear them and for how
long. If you wear them too much, you will end up with disfigured
feet. And no one will give you a standing ovation for that.

Read More