Guest post: Writing as Legacy

I recently had lunch with Donna McCrohan Rosenthal, past president of the California Writers Club (CWC) and also past president of the East Sierra branch of the CWC. She and I have both been at this a long time, both began writing and publishing decades ago. As we chatted, she shared with me a short piece she had written for the SoCal Writers Showcase, an online publication that presents work from members of CWC.

Donna's piece was lovely in its sentiment, and beyond that it honored some of our old friends who have passed away. I asked her if I could share it here, to further bring attention to them and to the Showcase. She graciously agreed. The remainder of this post is what Donna wrote. I couldn't agree with her more:

We decided from Showcase’s inception that we would occasionally include pieces by colleagues I like to think of as “active deceased” – those who live in our hearts and minds, who advanced the mission of the CWC on every level, and so meaningfully whose written words stay with us long after these dear friends have gone.

 

I recently had the privilege of posting San Fernando Branch Monte Swann’s thoroughly engaging “Ars Gratia Artis” about his frequent forays of sneaking onto the MGM lot as a boy, Orange County Branch Jeanette Fratto’s clever and savvy “Night Duty” about an ambivalent detective, and High Desert’s inimitable Bob Isbill’s “The Importance of Volunteerism” which we should all read and take to heart.

Putting Monte, Jeanette, and Bob up on our site, I felt such elation in the fact that writing makes us immortal. Their earthly presence has left us, but their written words never will. I sensed them smiling to see this rebirth of appreciation of their talent as they spin their tales again to entertain more people they hadn’t reached before. What a wonderful thing. A gift that goes on through time.

Don’t we write for permanence? Otherwise, we could just sit someone down and talk.

Showcase can post the active deceased’s legacies. Branch newsletters can reprint them, too, and we can read them at open mic meetings, their inner beauty brightening our camaraderie just like it used to. When their stories survive, they survive in their stories.

But even if you’ve never published anything anywhere, don’t overlook recording family memories and histories. They’ll endure through generations if not through the ages.

How to Break Up with Your Internet Service Provider

 

Last week I finally--FINALLY--signed on with a new Internet Service Provider (hereafter known as the NISP). It took two tries. After receiving a "special offer" in the mail--okay, after receiving a hundred or so over the past couple years--I decided to give them a try. This was after repeated attempts to get my old Internet Service Provider (hereinafter known as OISP) to lower my bill by removing the monthly charge for a landline. ("Of course! I can help you with that!" one hour later: "I'm sorry, we're unable to separate your phone from your internet....")

Old monthly bill with OISP: $139

Current monthly bill with NISP: $41

(Boy howdy, that $41 was hard fought and has it's own story that involves me hanging up on the first representative I spoke to--after being on the phone with him berating me for half an hour. You don't need me to explain to you that's not the way to make a sale. Sheesh.)

ANYWAY, the only thing I had left to do was break up with my OISP. You know, call and cancel my service.

If you've done this before, you know that it should be a short phone call. "Yes, thank you, I just need to cancel my service...." But it's not. Because as soon as you say that--in the nicest way possible--you're asked why, and then you're directed to the "loyalty" representative who promises to lower your bill, wash your car, walk your dog, and maybe give you a back massage if you'll only stay with the company that has the "best" customer service and support. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

My NISP system was installed last week by a very happy dude named Michael who had a great work ethic and got it all handled in an hour, including pulling the ladder off his truck, climbing around in the garage, and other time-consuming tasks. It is indeed "faster and more reliable" (so far). I waved goodbye to Michael and my next thought was, How do I cancel my OISP without wasting time with the loyalty people? So (finally), here's how it went:

OISP: Good morning! This is Billie! How can I help you today?

Me: Good morning, Billie! I need to cancel my service today.

(After some preliminary identification verification)

OISP: Do you mind if I ask why you're canceling your service?

Me: I don't mind at all! I'm moving to Australia!

OISP: Australia! Wow! That's... a long way to move. What made you decide to move to Australia, if you don't mind me asking.

Me: I don't mind at all! My granddaughter just got a recording contract there, and since she's rather young, her parents were concerned about her moving so far away by herself. I'm footloose and fancy free, so I offered to go with her and live over there for a year or two. Should be fun!

(What was really fun was listening to Billie tap away on her computer, listing, I assume, the customer's reason for canceling service. She assured me right away that she could help me, waited for her computer to tabulate a closing bill, told me what that total would be and that my service would be canceled by the following day.)

OISP: Before I let you go, Ms. Murphy, do you mind giving me your granddaughter's name so I can look forward to hearing some of her music in the future?

Me: Oh, of course! You can listen to some of it now. She's done a few recordings and they're on YouTube. Look her up! Her name is Ellie Blue.

OISP: I'm writing that down....

The entire phone call took less than ten minutes. And yes, that last bit is true--my granddaughter's stage name is Ellie Blue, and she can be found singing on YouTube. (Note: If one intends to prevaricate, one should always have at least part of one's story based in fact.)

In all seriousness, I realize that Billie, the OISP, is out there working, hoping her day doesn't get too crazy with angry customers, hoping she can pay her bills or feed her kids or support herself through college or whatever it is she needs to do with her paycheck. I didn't want to waste her time anymore than I wanted to waste mine. Nor did I want to engage in that toxic back-and-forth that is sometimes required in these situations. So I just came up with a story that made it easier for her to do her job, and for me to do mine... which was get back to sitting at this laptop, making up stories. So there ya go.