When I was 23 in 1970, I met with Al S, the head of personnel at Fairchild Publications (employees were called “Personnel” before we became “Human Resources”) for a job interview. The position open was for an assistant on the copy desk, which meant I would sit with a group of people who wrote headlines and edited copy for one of Fairchild’s business newspapers and keep a log of all the articles and their headlines. It was a glorified clerical job.

I automatically–and incorrectly–assumed the job with with Women’s Wear Daily, the “bible” of the fashion industry. When Al told me it was with Home Furnishings Daily, I was crest-fallen. “Yick, I thought.” Al must have sensed my dismay, because he said: “It’s just like WWD, but in the home furnishings industry.” Oh, okay, I thought. I had no interest whatsoever in home furnishings, but I wanted to get my proverbial foot in the door since Fairchild was supposedly a great place to work for budding journalists.

It was, and there I stayed for a total of 23 years, rising through the ranks to become VP of Publishing. Although I worked at WWD at one point, I didn’t like the fashion industry nearly as much as the home furnishings business.

Many twenty and thirty somethings today hem and haw if they’re not offered the exact job they think they want. They also don’t want to pay their dues by starting on the ground floor.

One young woman I know wants to be a financial analyst.  When she was offered a different kind of job at a financial company, she considered turning it down. “You’ve got to take it.” I told her. “The salary and benefits are excellent. You will have the chance to learn about all aspects of the company once you’re there. Do you realize how many people are out of work?” She accepted the job, thank goodness. If she’s sensible, she’ll go in there with a completely open mind and absorb as much as she can, meet as many people as possible, and do her job enthusiastically.

Have we spoiled our children? I, for one, would answer: “Without a doubt.“

 

When I was in eighth grade at Campbell Junior High School in Queens, NY, I had a crush on Neil Maltz. He was about three inches shorter than I at the time, but he was cute, so I didn’t care about his height. When our class took an overnight trip to Washington, DC, I remember getting off the bus behind Neil. He turned around and said: “Gerilynn (my real name), you are a nice girl.”  I was joyous.  I stared at one of the trip photos for months because I could see a little bit of his face in one of them.  I don’t remember one other thing about Neil. He was my first crush.

I recently decided to look Neil up on FB, and there he was, or at least I thought so.  It was hard to tell from the photo because it’s been 51 years since I saw him. I emailed to ask if he went to Campbell, but then immediately forgot about him. I checked my messages today and there was a response: Yes, he’s the Neil from yesteryear. I wrote back and told him about my crush on him.

 

Here’s a photo of Neil. I assume he’s with his wife and grandchildren. He didn’t write back yet, but I don’t care if he does. I’m over my crush.

 

 

 

 

Speaking of crushes, a man who I last saw when I was 27 (that’s 34 years ago) STILL calls me a couple of times a year to connect.  He does it the old-fashioned way because he doesn’t own a computer. He called today to wish me a happy birthday.  I once asked him why he still calls after so many years and he said: “I had more fun with you than with any one else in my life.” That was a great compliment, but I’m not THAT MUCH FUN, so his life must have been rather fun-less for the last three plus decades.

Relationships can be ridiculous.

 

Girls growing up in Liberia are afraid to get up in the presence of men and speak out.

Girls in Sudan are often pulled out of school at 13 and forced to marry men they don’t know.  When they start menstruating, their families look at them as sources of income.  They are ready to start their “new lives.”

Girls in Karamoja, Uganda are traditionally raped during courtship, and if many men are interested in one girl, the man who rapes her first gets to marry her.

It is hard to grasp the enormity of the atrocities against girls and women around the world. While we may debate with our husbands over where to go on vacation or take issue with arrogant male bosses, millions of girls and women are robbed of their voices, their freedom, their youth and their futures.

Tomorrow is International Women’s Day, created as a global celebration of women’s economic, political and social achievements and potential. The International Rescue Committee hopes it also will be an occasion to “tell members of Congress not to cut the international affairs budget that is critical to protect and empower women and girls.” The Committee has launched the Wake Up Call as “a platform for people to share struggles facing women and girls, and the inspiring ways in which they are overcoming these obstacles.” I hope you will visit their site to watch some of their inspiring videos and sign the petition to Congress. These women really are our sisters.

P.S. Tomorrow also is my birthday and I can’t think of a better present than to see a woman in need get help.

The non-stop Charlie Sheen jokes and media coverage underscore two unequivocal facts to me:

1. The media is getting stupider and stupider

2. People are becoming meaner and meaner

Jon Stewart, SNL, Conan, Jay and Dave all are trying to outdo each one another with Charlie jokes, skits and impersonations. They all think they’re so clever. They’re not.

CNBC, MSNBC, FOX and every other TV and radio station, Bangor to Burbank, are giving Charlie more airtime than they give to Libya. It doesn’t take much intelligence  to cover a celeb gone wild.

What disturbs me most is that Charlie is clearly deeply disturbed and needs help, fast.  Why doesn’t someone step up to the plate and launch a public campaign to get him help? Even Dr. Phil would be better than nothing.

I am old enough to be Charlie’s mother (if I had him at 19), and when I listen to him rant and see his eyeballs roll into his head, I think like a mother. She’s got to be frantic. Watching your son kill himself is no picnic. Especially when the world is watching and joking.

I don’t care if they consider me an old fogy, but I think young people today have utterly bizarre dating rituals. Boys don’t ask girls out; they send out signals to test the water. And girls aren’t forthright, either. They pretend they’re not receiving the signals or they send back their own signals. By the time all these signals have been passed back and forth a half dozen times, neither party has any earthly idea what the other  is saying or thinking.

Case in point. A college junior I know sits next to the same woman every day in a large lecture class. He’s interested in her. He walks her back to her dorm after class, his signal to her that he’s interested. One day he’s late to class and has to sit on the other side of the room. When class is over, she doesn’t wait for him and he doesn’t approach her. Now he’s trying to interpret the meaning of her action. “Maybe she didn’t want to appear too anxious. Or maybe she isn’t interested in me. Or maybe she thought she wasn’t important enough to me because I was late,” he goes on and on.

“So why don’t you just ask her out?” I say. “If I do, and she doesn’t want to go out, she’ll stop talking to me,” he explained. “You’re a little nutty,” I respond.

Young men and women read little signs in each other’s emails, gestures and remarks. They do a mating dance. But they take so long to connect, there’s not a bit of spontaneity left. “The internet has made us more isolated and less social,” the young man said. “No one wants to appear too anxious or forward. No one wants to take chances.”

Taking chances spices up our lives. If you won’t take a chance on a making a date when you’re 21, what will you take a chance on?

I love being a member of different communities. When I’m in my friend Linda’s elegant yarn shop, working on a sweater, I instantly become part of the knitting community. When Adam is teaching me how to stand on my head, I’m part of the yoga community. And when I go with Max to hear Esperanza Spaulding, I’m a member of the jazz community.  Successful communities create a wonderful sense of belonging, and instill a sense of pride in their members. It’s wonderful, for example, to live in a neighborhood where everyone takes meticulous care of their homes and is friendly, or to get the support and encouragement of a community like AA or Weight Watchers if you have drinking or eating problem.

Everyone in the web business constantly talks about creating a strong community on their sites, but creating a sense of togetherness is easier said than done when people don’t know each other and have never laid eyes on one another. Mark Zuckerberg had a brilliant idea, but Facebook is no more a community than the world. It’s made up of a zillion communities.

FOF is on its way to becoming one of the strongest communities on the web for the most fantastic generation of women in the history of womenkind.

“This is the only site I visit regularly. It is so great to find some place that is focused on things that are pertinent to me. Thank you for a great site. Keep up the good work,” said FOF Charlotte.

“This is a fun website. It’s like being in a club,” said FOF Rosemary.

“Thank you for making such a F-U-N website. I look forward to your messages. Keep up the fantastic ideas,” said FOF Lisa.

“I always look forward to seeing what new ideas, info, style you will be posting next at Fab website. I love it,” said FOF Marissa.

“Great site, love the ideas and giveaways. I find it very informative and fun. Keep it going,’ said FOF Diana.

“I’ve loved this site since I first discovered it. It’s a daily must read! Always fun, informative, and a great place to win some really cool products! I’ll take you over Facebook any day!!!” said FOF Gina.

It thrills me to read these compliments from my peers because FOF strives to be everything they say, and more. We want the site to be as entertaining, smart, witty and wise as the women it represents. FOF will never replace being face to face with each other, but if we can build a strong community in this new world of communications, we’re doing our job.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your kind words and support.

Katherine MacPherson is what you’d call “a find.”  She is a marvelous photographer, a talented graphic designer and a poised and classy young woman. Oh, she’s pretty and petite, too. She’s only 25, so you can imagine what she’ll be like when she’s FOF. We didn’t actually “find” Katherine. She was recommended to us by Joanna Goddard, another exceptional young woman who has created one of the most wildly successful blogs on the web. Anyway, Katherine designs our compelling FOF newsletters, photographs many of the women you see on the home page and on our stylish Style Blog and is one of the driving forces behind the look of the site.

FOF designer, Sharon, and our cupcake display (courtesy of FOF writer Sara)

We gave Katherine a little surprise party today for her upcoming marriage, which is March 26.  We asked about her honeymoon (Paris), her bridesmaids’ dresses (J. Crew), the drinks they’ll serve at the wedding (wine and beer), and how many guests will attend (about 250). As Katherine joyously opened our gifts from Williams Sonoma (a set of steak knives and a set of cheese knives), I couldn’t help but think about how much has happened to me, and the world, since I opened gifts at my own wedding shower, in 1968.

It is exciting for Katherine to have so much ahead of her. And while I sometimes wish I knew at 21 what I know now, that might have made for a pretty dull life.  I hope Katherine and her soon-to-be husband, Chad, have a many years of health, happiness and rich experiences.

When FOF Rona was about 13, she and her brother, Bobby, were awoken in the wee hours of the morning by noises coming from the adjoining hotel bedroom. They were away with their mother for a summer week in the country. Their dad was back in the city, working. Rona and Bobby tiptoed to the door that separated the rooms and gingerly opened it a tiny bit. There they saw their mother in bed with another man. Horrified, Bobby returned to his bed, but Rona quickly dressed and ran to the hotel lobby to call her father to tell him what happened.

When Rona and Bobby returned home, their dad called them together and pointedly asked if they thought their mother had had sex with the man (remember, this was over a half century ago, and many of us didn’t know what sex was until we were 20!) They answered “yes.”

The incident was never discussed again. “My parents stayed married but things didn’t seem to be the same after my call,” Rona remembers.  “I know my father loved my mother with all his heart when they married because I read the diary he wrote on their honeymoon. We have no idea if he ever told her what he learned, but it changed their relationship forever.”

Rona’s first husband ran off with another woman and she’s always afraid her second husband will do the same. “My mother was a self-absorbed woman, which affected my self worth,” Rona told me. She will never forget that summer night, long ago, in the hotel room.  She only wishes she had talked to her mother about it before she died.

My friends at genconnect.com invited me to write something for them about Jane Russell, who died yesterday at 89. I was six when the movie Gentlemen Prefer Blondes came out in 1953, but I remember watching Jane and Marilyn (as in Monroe) and deciding I thought Jane was prettier. Maybe it was because I identified more with her looks since I had dark hair.  That’s how six year olds think. I’ll be  six plus 58 in a week, and I still think Jane had it all over Marilyn. Check out my thoughts about Jane and tell genconnect yours.

FOF sister, Shelley, and I just spent four glorious days on the Caribbean island of Turks & Caicos with our men.  We laughed endlessly, enjoyed huge (too huge!) buffet breakfasts and scrumptious dinners, talked about everything from Charlie Sheen to Libya and unions, shopped, and relaxed on the beach. Shelley and I also read like we were in a race. While she read Kristin Hannah’s Night Road, I was fixated on another of her books, Magic Hour. Then we swapped.

Shelley is a major league reader, and while I don’t read nearly as much as she does, I do love it when I get into a book.  We were introduced to Kristin’s books by our beloved FOF, which has a partnership with her publisher, St. Martin’s Press. St. Martin’s authors are hands-down FOF favorites because they speak to women about the things that matter to us most. The characters in Night Road are brilliantly drawn, and the story is so compelling, that I started to talk to Shelley about the lead character as if she were real. “Geri, it’s only a book. It’s not a true story,” Shelley laughed.

I strongly recommend that you read about Kristin on our FOF Book Blog, and then get your hands—and eyes—on one of her books pronto.  Also be sure to enter our latest contest to win a book by another brilliant St. Martin’s author, Jeffrey Stepakoff.