I Am Turning into My Mother

Written By: Kim - Feb• 27•11

Recent events have made me realize that I am slowly becoming my mother. When exactly do women start to turn into dear old Mom?

For me, it really started when my children were younger. Things like, “Because I said so” started coming out of my mouth. Nagging them to buckle up before I left the driveway. And, no, I have never used my spit to comb my kid’s hair. That’s just too gross. Drilled in to my head were other Momisms like, “Never judge people by what they wear. The richest man in town is a peanut farmer who wears overalls and a straw hat.” “Always have your own credit card when you are married.” “When cooking, you can always add but you can’t subtract.” (Which means, add a little at a time). “The man you are in love with at 18 is not necessarily the man you are in love with at 28.” The list goes on and on.

But morphing into Mom became even more prevalent recently when I started critiquing the way the clerks at a local super store bagged my groceries. Honestly, who puts eggs on the bottom of a bag, even if you are putting the bread on top?

L-R: Emory Wickline (Dad); Carolyn Sheets (cousin); Nellie Wickline) grandma; and Marie Wickline (Mom) after my Dad's re-up in 1981.

I grew up on a military base, Ft. Rucker, Alabama, and the commissary was our main source of groceries. The commissary had grocery baggers who also took your brown paper bag purchases directly to your car. Apparently, this service still exists today in spite of all the self-service forms of purchasing that we have today.

Mom would always look for Mr. Bryant to bag her groceries. It did not matter who was at the end of the check out lane, she waved to him and he always came over. Oh, the dirty looks we received over the years from the baggers who showed up to our lane only to be turned away by my Mom. These guys and gals were working for tips, too. It embarrassed me to no end.

But Mom taught me a valuable lesson: You are the customer and you have a right to expect excellent customer service. Mr. Bryant provided excellent customer service. He knew exactly how to pack a bag of groceries: cold stuff together, heavy stuff on the bottom, don’t make the bags too heavy, and make quick witted conversation to the car. He was a dream.

My Mom had a high school education but could carry on a conversation with the most educated person in the room. She raised five children on a US Army enlisted man’s salary. Mom was never impressed with titles or labels. She could spot a phony a mile away — a trait she passed on to me. She believed in God, country and family. She loved to read and laugh.

I guess turning in to Mom really isnt that bad.

Lawyers, Cops, Firemen and Doctors: How Did I End Up Here?

Written By: Kim - Feb• 12•11

I have always been fascinated with television shows about lawyers, police officers and medical/emergency personnel. Years before anyone coined the phrase “reality television” shows like “LA Law,” “Hill Street Blues,” “CHiPs,” M*A*S*H and “St. Elsewhere”, “China Beach” were shows I grew up watching. ER was the last medical drama I watched until “Grey’s Anatomy” was launched. Once ER’s Dr. Mark Greene died of brain cancer and I bawled like a baby, I just couldn’t and didn’t want to watch the show anymore.

My current television DVR list includes “The Good Wife,” “Private Practice” and now “The Chicago Code.” The only show I can recall watching recently about the publishing industry was “Ugly Betty.” Other than the Dad on “Eight is Enough” who served as a newspaperman and “Lou Grant ” from the 1980s and 1970s respectively, I do not know of any other shows centered around the publishing business. I get it. We’re just not as exciting. We don’t make the news; we cover it.

You would think that my interest in these types of television shows would have steered me toward a different career path. What keeps me interested in good television shows is not what the characters do for a living, but how the characters interact; what they say; the decisions they make. The writer determines what the characters say. Therein lies my passion and true calling.

When I look back, the signs were there that I would end up in the communications or publishing world: asking my Mom for and pointing to books when I rode in the shopping cart as a toddler; taped conversations to my Dad while he served in Vietnam; long love letters to my parents as I left for college; sentimental or funny cards for special occasions — I only pick out the ones that really speak to me.

© Tey Teyoo via stock.xchng

Becoming a wordsmith was bound to happen. I just didn’t see it at first: I wanted to be a doctor. But the chemistry, biology and calculus classes left me realizing that I could not take three more years of these kinds of courses plus medical school. Since I was working part-time retail through college, I thought perhaps a business degree would fit nicely in to my life plans. I took one accounting class. Enough said. The spring of my sophomore year, I took a speech communications class. Loved it and the professor encouraged me to consider a journalism degree. I had finally found a degree that would lead me down a career path.

Despite the fact that I was making half of what the marketing degree graduates were and regardless of the ups and downs of the publishing industry; I have never regretted my choice. I have met amazing people along the way and learned their stories. I then told those stories to you. How many folks out there can say that?

Publishing professionals were the first social networkers — we just didn’t call it that.