Always picked last

I write a weekly column called “Neighborberry.”

If you would like to see "Neighborberry" in your local paper/website, please tell the editor to email me at krisjane7@gmail.com. Thanks so much!

Always picked last

By Kris Kolk

Our family holiday functions are not complete without the playing of board games.

Sounds like fun, but for me, it’s not. You see, many in my family are scientists. Since we usually play teams on trivia games, I end up sitting in silence while watching my teammates avoid the arts and entertainment categories.

Here’s what happened on Thanksgiving:

“Oh! We’ve landed on a green square. Read us the science question,” we demanded of the other team. Here was the question:

“What is the manner by which an amoeba’s contractile vacuole releases water to the systole?”

The entire table of players (except one) groaned, because the answer was so obvious. Our team almost took another turn without even answering such a simple one; but our opponents insisted on playing by the rules.

Everyone looked to me while shushing one another. They agreed to let me go solo since I’m rarely able to contribute. Unfortunately, the answer did not occur to me so easily.

“I have no idea,” I admitted.

The house rumbled as nine people chanted in unison, “Exocytosis!” Banter ensued regarding my negligence on pursuing all matters amoeba.

“Well, she’s had a long day,” someone justified for me.

I routinely petition our team to land at any pink or purple square to prove I’m not as dumb as they think. I just enjoy different topics than they do. Bach was a composer during the Baroque period. I also happen to know what a lute is.

But they don’t even pause at my favorite categories, not as long as a science question is within reach. The game is plagued with spicules, quantum electrodynamics, and molecular orbitals. I must admit, though, I’ve learned a lot from these mandatory lessons, I mean festive recreation. I now understand what makes popcorn pop, the names of the bones in the hand, and that lemurs purr.

The Thanksgiving game wrapped up as our opponents silently read the last question of the game before agreeing the card must have been misplaced from the Junior edition. I thought perhaps this would be my moment.

The question was: “What is the transformation rule for a pseudovector?”

The answer, “v’=(det R) (Rv)” was stated almost at the same time as the question.

The game ended quick as a wink (approximately 1000 picoseconds). My hypotheses on pseudovectors were unnecessary. Fine with me.

All I really wanted to do was enjoy the season in a traditional way. Nothing beats biting the phalanges off Zingiberbread men and making angels out of chilly crystalline oxygen and hydrogen flakes.

Kris Kolk has been a writer and neighborliness promoter for more than a decade. You can also visit her at www.neighborsabouttown.blogspot.com. Email her at krisjane7@gmail.com.

Busyness blob

I write a weekly column called “Neighborberry.”

I post these essays on my blog a few weeks after each one is released. 

The publishers get first dibs. :)

If you would like to see "Neighborberry" in your local paper/website, please tell the editor to email me at krisjane7@gmail.com. Thanks so much! 

Busyness blob (released August 2, 2013)

By Kris Kolk

When neighbors experience life-changing troubles, why do we struggle to help? I think it’s because we are overrun with meaningless time hogs. We need to take control and smack busyness around a bit.

Following are three scenarios which are typical and unfortunate.

A woman hopes her cancer treatment works as her coworker hopes to find strawberry-scented hair conditioner at the salon.

A mother argues with her daughter about buying a new cell phone while en route to a candlelight vigil honoring a teenage suicide victim.

An elderly man sits alone in front of a TV dinner. During that same hour, the family next door fusses about too many phone calls at suppertime.

Jumping from one task to another, we plant marigolds by the mailbox, buy a plain white t-shirt for a school project, and groom the dog as he whines about it. After decades of this lifestyle, I’ve learned something important: busyness is like basement storage. It will grow to the size of its container.

When I was in my early 20s, I attended college full-time. I also had a part-time job and a boyfriend. I barely had time to bleach my hair with lemon juice, get my colors analyzed (I’m an “autumn”), or line my shoes against the wall in an orderly fashion like strappy, kitten-heeled soldiers. I accomplished it all, though, and was proud of my time management skills.

I lived according to the dictates of glossy magazine essays. I knew the seven ways to host a bodacious birthday bash and how to be the envy of women in a fitting room. I never saw headlines about helping others. If there was an article about producing a pinochle party for a playful nursing home populace, I missed it.

Splurging on ourselves is encouraged in our culture, but we must earn enough to fund the things we are told we deserve. This is a madman’s merry-go-round. In reality, having enough money for indulgences is a luxury. Many families would be satisfied for a chance at survival. Work and worry take a toll. It is no wonder most of us are exhausted and have little extra time.

Focusing on one another, especially in times of need, is an underestimated pleasure. It is low-cost, family-friendly, and much more fulfilling than acquiring things. It has the power to provide passion and is quite addictive. Use it to replace any bad habit or vice.

Be warned that becoming aware of our neighbors’ problems is often eye-opening and sometimes shocking. Therefore, we must protect our own inner joy. The mission is not to join the number of people wallowing in muck but to share our cheer and happiness with those navigating the darkness. Just having a compassionate person acknowledge and respect their situation provides valuable therapy.

I can call a friend who is battling cancer and listen while she vents frustrations. In addition to the tests and procedures, sick people need somewhere for their thoughts to land. That I can provide.

A family’s grief from losing a child will never go away. Yet there are many details to arrange during this time. Casseroles are helpful, but if we dig deeper, we may find school books need returned and siblings need a babysitter.

I understand we all must tend to necessities. I also realize that charities, faith-based services, and social programs exist for a reason; but these facilities are struggling. Helping at the neighborhood level relieves some of their burden. All it takes to help the guy next door is a spare moment and some forethought.

The next time busyness tries to boss your around, wrestle it to the ground. Declare: “After supper I’m not going to give the dog a bath. I’m going to take this apple crumble to Mr. Pivens instead.”

Mr. Pivens will be grateful and the dog will thank you, too.

Kris Kolk has been a writer and neighborliness promoter for more than a decade. You can also visit her at www.neighborsabouttown.blogspot.com. Email her at krisjane7@gmail.com .

It is party time

“Neighborberry” released on July 5, 2013

It is party time
By Kris Kolk

Someone should get the ball rolling and be neighborly. It might as well be you. If you feel your home isn’t presentable enough for company, try these tips.

“Do I get the grand tour?” a guest might inquire upon arriving. If such a notion gives you twitches, just lie. You may want to rehearse your lines before the party.

“I would love to show you the bedroom, but my boa constrictors, Wilma and Leon, don’t fancy strangers,” you could say. Practice making sweeping motions with your arms to shepherd the nosy one into what you term “the safe part of the house.”

Perhaps you have a bathtub full of something you don’t want others to see, such as dirty dishes or Donny and Marie fan club memorabilia. Just dump those unmentionables into laundry baskets. Shove the baskets in the bedroom with Wilma and Leon. Define this as “organization” and feel good about the day.

Before hosting a party, my grandmother would wash, line-dry and iron her kitchen curtains. As a new bride, I caught myself doing the same thing. Grandma and I shared a chuckle about it. Nowadays, I just smack the top-layer dust out of the curtains with a dishrag.

Has paint peeled and left a 4-foot by 3-foot patch in the shape of The Ukraine on your living room wall? Cover it with construction paper and have the kids draw on it. Tell your guests it would break your heart to remove this precious artwork.

It astounded me to hear that other people clean a few days in advance of a party.  When my kids were young, I would tidy all day; but it always looked like a giant had been shaking our home as if it were a doll house. Pillows and blankets would appear in front of the television. Measuring cups and mixing bowls would be discovered in the baby’s room. Miniature fighter jets would wage wars in my underwear drawer. Though I am not a fan of “ahead of time,” some chores, such as cleaning the refrigerator, are best tackled prior to a gathering.

“Here. I brought you this 36-inch chocolate chip cheesecake,” your friend offers. “You might want to stick it in the fridge until we’re ready for dessert.” It is such a bittersweet moment when a guest contributes something chilled and decadent but also bigger than your pool.

Another help is to put away all the everyday dishes before the get-together. Clean. Dirty. Clean. Dirty. It’s the dishwasher circle of life. But when a party is afoot, an empty dishwasher can save your sanity.

After Thanksgiving dinner at my home, the dishwasher was busy washing sippy cups and cereal bowls. In the meantime, cranberry relish and turkey gravy hardened on 45 stuck-together plates. As pie was served, Grandpa tried to trade his great-granddaughter a cigarette for her clean fork.

Here’s another do-ahead tip: clean in and around your furniture. Just as soon as a guest gets out a pacifier for the baby, she drops it somewhere deep, dark and scary: under the cushions.

“Let’s move the furniture and look!” a booming voice proclaims while the baby shrieks. You witness in horror four men and an eight-year-old boy lift your couch. Unveiled is a well-established, thriving eco-system of dead and undead bugs, broken crayons, loner socks, fuzzy potato chips—and one pacifier. The scene is so ghastly, the baby stops crying. Her mouth falls agape.

Everyone has areas of their home in need of cleaning or renovation. So what? Confront these insecurities with a sense of humor and dedication to the neighborly crusade. You have the right to share life with friends and family in your own home!

Now, all that’s left to do is poop-scoop the front yard and turn on the one porch light that still works. Be neighborly. Not perfect.

Kris Kolk has been a writer and neighborliness promoter for more than a decade. You can also visit her at www.neighborsabouttown.blogspot.com. Email her at kris@lslneighbors.com.

Good and neighborly

This essay is the backbone and essence of Neighborberry and Neighbors About Town:

Good and neighborly

  by Kris Kolk

“I live in a great neighborhood,” an acquaintance told me.

“That’s wonderful,” I said, “What makes it great?”

“Well, the lawns are immaculate and the homes are absolutely gorgeous!” he replied.

“How about the people? Are they nice?” I had to know.

“Um, I don’t know anyone here. Everyone does their own thing,” he said.

My friend was describing a neighborhood full of good neighbors: upstanding and tidy lovers of order and image. However, it sounded as if few were neighborly.

You see, good neighbors can be neighborly and neighborly neighbors can be good. Yet good neighbors and neighborly neighbors have different natures. Sounds like an exercise in logic, but I can explain.

Good neighbors never play loud music and always come to full and complete stops at stop signs.

When the power goes out in Berlin, they get a call from the World Clock people wondering what time it is. Good neighbors are that punctual.

Good neighbors’ cars never smell like spoiled baby formula and catsup. They keep potpourri in the ashtrays and blankets and granola bars in the trunks for emergencies.

 “I have lettuce in my teeth,” a passerby might declare as he primps before the spotless windshield of a good neighbor’s car.

Good neighbors don’t concern themselves with the cloth versus disposable debate because their babies produce no dirty diapers. In the kids’ playroom, each crayon has its own private cubby and the dolls have their own wooden wardrobes.

Good neighbors rotate their dogs’ squeaky toys seasonally and color-code the collars. Their well-groomed canines do not bark, yip, howl or dig.

If you wave at a good neighbor, they may or may not wave back at you.

I don’t claim to always be a good neighbor, but I usually succeed at being neighborly. It’s all about good intentions and treating people with kindness.

Neighborly neighbors don’t tattle to authorities when someone’s grass grows a bit. They realize it may be an indication of a life crisis and consider it their cue to provide any help they can.

Neighborly people may even offer to mow that tall grass thus instilling friendship and goodwill. They know tattling spews fear and suspicion into a neighborhood.

I’m hoping this mouthful catches on: “When good neighbors accuse other neighbors of not being good neighbors, good neighbors are not being neighborly.”

Neighborly people take casseroles to new parents and soup to the sick. They “grab some groceries” for those housebound.

They know all the neighborhood pets and help scour the streets when they get loose. At Halloween, neighborly neighbors enjoy guessing who the princesses and goblins are behind the masks and seize the opportunity to chat with parents.

Recently, I frolicked through my lawn on the way to deliver cookies to a neighbor. I cuddled their dog and dodged riding toys dotting their yard. I waved at every car driving on our street, and I couldn’t have been happier. I rate neighborly living a big thumbs up.

While good neighbors polish their already-pristine garage floors, neighborly neighbors are busy solving the most essential challenge of our time: encouraging humanity to respect one another.