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We've come a long way with the written word. Was this the first text message?

We’ve come a long way with the written word. Was this the first text message?

This post  about written communication was originally posted on Blogfinger in March, 2011 (linked below,)  but is now updated here.   Being a blogger, this topic interests me, as it probably does for most people who like to communicate effectively.  There now is a new book called “The Sense of Style–The Thinking Person’s Guide to Writing in the 21st Century” by Steven Pinker from Harvard.    Our post today  is not a book review (I just ordered a copy) but it indicates that writing style, like language itself,  is an evolving subject. Here is a link to a Time magazine review of Pinker’s book:     Time reviews writing style book     Also, in the 2011 BF article linked below are the names of two fun books on this topic.

Things haven’t changed drastically since 2011, but I think that text messaging has become more pervasive, and email less so. More adults have adopted text messaging since then and have found it to be a useful way to communicate. Text messaging causes a communiqué  to be read quicker than emails, and there is less chance that a message might be overlooked.  Of course, texts tend to be very brief and are not conducive to substantial conversations, although, for some, that is a good thing.  It is a form of “hit and run” communication.  Facebook is becoming even more dominant as a way for people to “speak” to each other, but personally I find Facebook to be too chaotic. Tweeting is also gaining in popularity, but such brief messages fail to convey any depth.

Our email inboxes are more crowded than ever, often with commercials, and some of us have taken the time to unsubscribe to many senders and erase hundreds or thousands of emails.   On the Internet, there is a growing loss of customer service where some large commercial web sites no longer even offer a phone number for customers to contact them via a real conversation. Many  companies are demanding that we do all our business on web sites, and that can be frustrating when one’s issue is not easily dealt with on-line. Not all web sites are carefully designed (witness the mess when the ACA was first rolled out last year.)

Voice recognition software, like Siri (on the iPhone,) once perfected, will make it easier to compose a message without typing with those tiny keyboards. But even now, I try to use Siri despite its shortcomings because I really dislike typing on a phone.

Finally, as far as effective communication is concerned, none of these methods  conveys the tone of voice or facial expression  that comprise the nonverbal dimensions of meaning. This is where a phone call or even a voice mail, or, even better, an in-person  discussion can reduce the chances of miscommunication.  I suspect that misunderstandings are rampant as people rush through the process of communicating with digital devices.

And, of course, fewer people send letters or hand written notes anymore. I discovered some time ago that my handwriting has deteriorated somewhat since the advent of word processing.  I also have found that I am not such a good speller since spell check and Google  have been developed, but that’s a good thing.  Yet, on Blogfinger, people still misspell simple words.  One person always spells folks as folx, even though we correct it every time.  Maybe looking up a word in a dictionary is a better way to remember spelling, or maybe people are  just stuck with words they will never spell right.

These are just some of the issues that are evolving since 2011.     What do you think?  What have you observed about your abilities to communicate as they have evolved into 2014?

Here is a link to the 2011 BF article on this subject:    2011 BF post on written communication

MUSIC.  Is letter writing extinct?  Do any of you write letters–even if only to yourself?  Here’s Anne Murray:

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By Paul and Eileen (house and garden editor) @Blogfinger  (This very special article was originally posted on June 8, 2010 on the first anniversary of Blogfinger.  Our plan to do a series of interiors in the Grove failed because very few homeowners offered to let us in.  If any of you would like us to report on your interior, let us know.  It’s OK, I am a doctor.)

Our featured Ocean Grove home is an 1875 Victorian which was acquired by the current owners in 1994. At that time, it had been neglected, but many of the original features inside remained, including furnishings, pine floors, wood mouldings and trim, decorative fretwork, and vintage objects.  The home had been built for a wealthy family, and in this tour, we are taking a close look at the maid’s quarters on the second floor.

In the maid’s kitchen was an old Vulcan stove and a fridge from the 1950’s.  The kitchen table, perhaps from the ’40’s  was left by the prior owner as were all the little accessories. The maid accessed the kitchen from her bedroom, so that was convenient for midnight snacks.

Her bedroom and living room were bright and cheerful.  Hanging on the living room wall is a pictorial of the house which had been featured in a Victorian style magazine.

The bathroom was shared with the family and it opened into the maid’s bedroom; perhaps an awkward situation, but then again, maybe the master of the house appreciated this arrangement.  In the corner of the bathroom is a cabinet full of product memorabilia. The owner reached in and pulled out a pamphlet which tells how a woman could improve the shape of her “bust.”

Below the photos is a song which we think goes very well with this particular house.

Kitchen. All photos by Paul @Blogfinger

kitchen table. Maid’s bedroom visible off the kitchen

Maid’s bedroom

Maid’s living room

Bathroom. Shared with the family. Door leads to maid’s bedroom

Here’s a song which goes well with this house:

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Kids enjoy the beautiful weather on the OG beach. People emerging from their cold shelters.  Feb 22, 2014. By Moe Demby ©

Kids enjoy the beautiful weather on the OG beach.  The guy  on the bottom looks like a character in a Greek tragedy.    Miss America looks like she just completed a triple lutz.   Feb 22, 2014. By Moe Demby © Blogfinger staff.

New silhouette : The end of the  pier is now about two feet above the ground.The pier is also back from the water.  Definitely a non-fishing pier.   Feb 22, 2014.  By Moe Demby ©

New silhouette : The end of the pier is now about two feet above the ground.The pier is also back from the water. Definitely a non-fishing pier. Feb 22, 2014. By Moe Demby ©

THE PARAGONS.  “The Tide is High”  (but I’m holding on)

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Caroline Erlandson at the Lakes Park Farmers Market in Ft. Myers, Florida

Caroline Erlandson at the Lakes Park Farmers Market in Ft. Myers, Florida. Paul Goldfinger photo. Originally posted January, 2013.     Re-post 2023.

By Paul Goldfinger, Editor @Blogfinger

Caroline became friends with Eileen and myself after Eileen purchased one of her “two more pockets” invention where you can wear the accessory  (see above) and have your hands free once  you have stuffed your stuff inside.  Eileen wore her’s to the farmers’ market last Friday, so Caroline, a normally joyful person, jumped up and down and clapped her hands when she spotted Eileen.  “Look everyone,” she exclaimed to the customers who were in the booth.    Caroline, who loves to interact with everyone walking by,  was telling some folks about the many versions, but I thought she said “many virgins.”

“Oh no,” she laughed, “I’m Swedish, and my English isn’t perfect.”    Well, it turns out that this tall Swedish model does speak perfect English.  She, her husband and children often appear in advertisements where perfect families are required, and Caroline has pictures from those photo shoots displayed in her booth.

A standing joke at Caroline’s display is that she constantly tells people about her web site, but there’s one problem—it doesn’t exist yet. But she thinks that’s the funniest thing and she promises it will happen soon.

If you want to purchase one of her fabulous “hands-free solutions” you can email her at:   Carolineerlandson@yahoo.com.  They cost $32.00.  So far, she doesn’t have extra large ones that would fit many men, but she is working on that.

SOUNDTRACK:   “Ain’t Cha Glad?” from the soundtrack of  the motion picture  The Aviator, by David Johansen   (He is a vocalist with the band New York Dolls:)

—Paul Goldfinger

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theispot.com

theispot.com

By Paul Goldfinger, features editor @Blogfinger

Tell us your fantasy invention and include a couple of sentences to explain.  The most inventive invention will win a prize.  Blogfinger  employees may enter but not win.

To get things rolling, here is mine:  I would like to improve my candid photography.  So I would like to merely look at something and then record a photograph.  This would get rid of all the stealth involved in that genre. There was one famous photographer who had a camera with a side-aiming lens, so he could look forward into the viewfinder while “shooting” his subject on the side.

You may send as many entries as you want, but only one per comment.

Thank you, the management

STUFFY SHMITT   (some inventors need a muse)

and this song is for Eileen who wants to fly like you-know-who:

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Ocean Grove,New Jersey.  June 22. 2013. By Paul Goldfinger  ©  Click left to enlarge

Ocean Grove, New Jersey. June 22. 2013. By Paul Goldfinger © Click left to enlarge

Tent life in the Grove—NJ.com

Thanks to John Anderson who sent us this link to Peter Genovese’s article in NJ.com. This web site has done a very good job in reporting about Ocean Grove. I only have two comments. The first relates to his statement that says, “Ocean Grove is a dry town, but you can enjoy wine or beer on your front porch. But it must be in a cup — no beer cans or wine glasses allowed.”

Perhaps that’s true for the tents, but, to clarify, those who live here know that wine bottles, glasses and beer cans can be seen all over the rest of town on porches. In addition, you can bring wine or beer to your favorite OG restaurant and enjoy it inside or al fresco outside. Sometimes outsiders confuse Ocean Grove with the Camp Meeting Association.

The second comment is related to this statement by a tenter: “When my parents came here it was called Ocean Grave. Not now.’’

I really dislike that ugly term because it is still used today and it is a useless and wrong metaphor in 2013. I heard a visitor say it recently, and the master of ceremonies, an OG spokesman, said it prior to a Great Auditorium concert.

In the opening scene of the movie “Greta” she is on a bus heading to Ocean Grove. I paraphrase, but she said, “I don’t know why I am going to visit my grandmother in that town—it’s a place where you go to die.”

On Blogfinger we have worked hard to portray the town as it currently is: a vibrant, diverse community with people of all ages, including children. So hopefully Ocean Grovers will bury the grave remark in the interest of good public relations.

PS: Do you think there is hanky panky these day in the tents? Listen to LEON REDBONE–perhaps he has visited. —Paul Goldfinger, Editor @Blogfinger

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Cleo Daschbach is a curious six year old who lives with her parents Gina and Toby in Rockland County, New York and Franklin Avenue, Ocean Grove, New Jersey. They were here on Memorial Day, so Cleo and her Mom were doing a holiday project. Cleo wanted to write a “letter of peace” to the soldiers, but she wasn’t sure how to do that. A number of options were considered, but Cleo decided she wanted to put her message in a bottle. So they took a bottle and put the letter inside. Then they sealed it with candle wax.

Cleo and Dad went down to the beach, by the south jetty, where Dad threw the bottle way out into the ocean. Cleo, who just completed kindergarten, was a bit unsure of her geography. On her last day of school, she was able to tell her class that Dad threw the bottle across the sea.

Before they launched the bottle, Gina and Toby had gotten Cleo her own email account, so the letter gave that address.

On June 16, Cleo received an email from Abigail Birkett and family, who said that they were “walking as a family along the seashore in a small town in southern Great Britain when we saw something bobbing in the water, and to our surprise, it was a message in a bottle.” They were impressed that the message of peace that came their way was from a 6 year old child.

Their email went on, “We hope that you continue to be a caring, concerned citizen and that you achieve all that you set out to do in life.” Then they put the message back in the bottle and placed it back into the water. “Hopefully you will receive another message.”

–Paul Goldfinger, Editor @Blogfinger. I can’t help but feel nostalgic about the connection between America and the English Channel, especially when Cleo’s note was found by an English family just 10 days after the anniversary of D-Day, when thousands of Americans crossed the Channel to land at Normandy and help defeat the monster which was Nazi Germany.

In a way, Cleo’s note, launched on Memorial Day and intended as a message of peace for soldiers, did achieve her goal because the memory of those American GI’s who got on those boats that day will always be there, near where Cleo’s bobbing bottle landed after traveling 3,500 miles from Ocean Grove. It’s a connection between a sweet six year old American girl in 2013 and those brave American soldiers who gave their all that day–June 6, 1944.

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South end transition

South end transition, looking north. The pier and beach offices are behind us.    Paul Goldfinger photos  ©. Left click to enlarge

For those of you who are reading Blogfinger  from out of town, you may have some difficulty understanding the layout of the beach front.  So here is  the first of a series describing the orientation of the beachfront component parts.

The photograph above shows, from left to right:  Ocean Avenue, the transition from boardwalk to grassy/sandy strip  (there is a small boy with a red pail; this occurs at Heck Avenue) the no-man’s land where the boardwalk used to be, and then the beach.  Note the sand fencing between the grassy/sandy area and no-man’s land.   And again there is fencing between no-mans land and the then the beach.

I saw a couple walking north as far as the end of the boardwalk.  There they stopped, and she said, “Let’s continue walking along the sand.”

He said, “You want me to walk in the sand? ”

She said, “God forbid.” Then they turned and headed south.

Here they are, heading south.

Here they are, heading south,  toward the non-fishing  pier.   Note the pier and a gaggle of rookie OG lifeguards who are in the midst of extensive training. Also you can see what the completed boardwalk will look like.

Latest news from the fishing pier

Latest news from the non- fishing pier. If you enlarge this photo (click left) you might be able to make out Ralph at the far end.

The non-fishing pier was reopened for 167 feet after engineers found the supports to be safe. New planking was placed along with railings.  Walkers can go to the stop point, a horizontal railing (with a sign)  visible in the above photo.

But recently, according to Bill Bailey, the COO of the Ocean Grove Camp Meeting Association , engineers have determined that the usable pier can go out another 85 feet. You can see the new planking beyond the current stop point. Soon the stop point will be moved out to bring the walking pier to 252 feet, about half the size of the original pier. It will still not be over the water. People have discovered the newly reopened pier, and quite a few folks are walking out there. —-Paul Goldfinger

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Crowd at Convention Hall  CBS.com  photo

Crowd at Convention Hall
CBS.com photo

Tuesday, May 28.    We were out and about and decided to return home at around 1:30 pm today.  We knew that there would be security around Asbury Park and on Route 71, but we never imagined that Ocean Grove would be inaccessible. We came off Rt. 18 somewhere north of here  and tried to use back roads to get over to Route 33 and then travel east down to Broadway, but there were no left turns  onto 33.   Route 71 in Asbury and Ocean Grove was totally inaccessible, and we didn’t even try to go into downtown Asbury Park.

At Convention Hall

At Convention Hall. Internet photo

At one point we tried to maneuver through the no-mans lands west of downtown Asbury Park, but it was no go there also.  Trying to get to Ocean Ave and sneak into the Grove via the shore road was insanity.  We could rent a plane and drop onto Mt. Hermon Way by parachute, but what would we do with our car?  We considered hiring a Sherpa guide and walking home, but the Sherpa’s yak was off today, so we couldn’t use him.

Then we cleverly made our way south through the back streets of Neptune  in hopes of ending up on Route 71 in Bradley Beach.  Then we would take a left and take 71 south to Broadway, but, sigh, all those  east-west roads to Main Street in Bradley were closed—blocked by saw horses and police cars .  I never saw such horses, and  there were flashing lights and cops everywhere. If Patton’s 3rd Army itself had showed up in full force, they would not have gotten through.

After that we came to Rt 35 in Bradley  and headed north. What to do?   We would have to kill about 90 minutes until the Pres and the Gov got back on their copter and went someplace else. Eileen said, “Let’s go to the movies at the Monmouth Mall.”  She whipped out her iPhone and checked the listings   (Have any of you found that women are much more involved with their smartphones than men? ….just wondering).   The only thing we found for 2 :00 pm was “Hangover Part II .”  Luckily I had seen a review of the flick, and you could only watch that movie if you had been drinking, so the movies were out.

Finally we wound up at Wegmans cafe, having coffee.  Eileen bought some dark red peonies, the Jersey Shore edition of NJ Monthly magazine, and a book “The Light Between the Oceans.”   The book is about a couple who move to an isolated lighthouse island in Australia.  Evidently a live baby washes up on the shore….yadda yadda.  I had a bagel, baked extra long to make it dark brown and crunchy.    I read the Times and found my next car:  Porsche has a hybrid which has over 800 horsepower and sells for about $1,000 per horse. You can save money if you buy this car because it can get up to 71 m.p.g.

Something not to miss in Ocean Grove: Main Avenue district. PG photo

Something not to miss in Ocean Grove: Main Avenue district. PG photo

The good news was that the NJ Monthly magazine’s writeup about OG was quite excellent. Their “Back to the Beach” survey looked at 38 Shore beaches.  They did not focus on our Boardwalk issues, but instead they encouraged tourists to come and “don’t miss” the Great Auditorium, “Tent City,” Bridgefest Beach Festival, Boogie board races and the sand sculpture contest. Ok, so they forgot a few “don’t miss” items, but at least they were kind.

At around 3:30 pm we headed back to the Grove and discovered that magic had occurred—-every hint of the big visit was gone. The Tale of the Gov and the Pres had come to a happy ending.   It was all back to normal in Asbury Park—–but that’s another story.

—Paul Goldfinger,  Editor  @Blogfinger

LOUDON WAINRIGHT III with something from the movie  “The Aviator”:

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Beach Avenue on the night of the hurricane. Photo by Janet's daughter, Juliana Cavano

Beach Avenue on the night of the hurricane. Photo by Janet’s daughter, Julianna Cavano

EDITOR’S NOTE: As a new year approaches, Hurricane Sandy is history for those of us fortunate enough to have emerged unscathed. For others, the memories cling, unforgettable.

Janet Mazur

Janet Mazur

The writer Janet Mazur, who lives with her husband and two daughters in the second block of Abbott, was among those hardy souls who decided not to evacuate on the night Sandy struck. She wrote of the experience on her blog, iamnotwiththeband, describing how they watched the water cascade down the street, “like a horizontal Niagara falls,” climbing ever higher, covering planters, swallowing a car. “Foamy water, the wind lifting little blobs of bubbly foam and depositing them on the doors, the windows, the side of the house.” 

Next came redemption. “The waters receded. Slowly. And then the tops of the plants were visible in those hidden pots and more of that car on Beach Avenue appeared. By dawn, the street unveiled itself – a tangle of sea grass, heaps of boardwalk the size of a mini van randomly piled on a street corner, knee-high sand drifts and even tiny dead fish caught curbside. Meet the new world order. And the damage remains.”

After living without power for 11 days, she wrote afterward, “I will never look at a light switch the same way again.”

In the storm’s aftermath, she found herself thinking about the five stages of grief and how they apply to hurricane recovery. Here is Janet’s version as she looks back on events.

-0-

One: Denial – The morning after the storm, I tried to sweep knee-high sand from Beach Avenue with a flimsy kitchen broom. Heaven forbid anyone drag sand onto our hardwood floors. Meanwhile, power lines are down all along the street, the governor has declared a state of emergency and the basement is full of water.

Two: Anger – With no traffic lights to guide them, more than one impatient driver navigating Rte 33 made obscene gestures or screamed at other drivers who barreled through an intersection. Does anyone remember the rules of the road? And why are we angry at each other? Sandy is no one’s fault.

Three: Bargaining –  Those with wrecked waterfront property promise to NEVER, ever build in the same spot, if only the insurance company, or FEMA or someone will just cover all the damages.

Four: Depression – So many locals are weepy for no reason, lack energy, and nurse an overall melancholy. No surprise considering that we’ve all been knee deep in a hugely traumatic event. We’ve lost more than just stuff — our sense of safety and security has been abruptly upended. Hurricanes happen in Hatteras. Or on the Gulf Coast. This wasn’t supposed to happen to us!

Five: Acceptance – Remembering that the boardwalk where we took long power walks or trained for the Spring Lake Five is no longer there, we adjust. Eventually we settle into a different route. We may even come to like it. Some day/Not just yet.

— Janet Mazur

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Alan Barber (left) admires the great auditorium as Lois Hetfield and Charles Layton tell how Woody Allen once made a movie there. Photo by Mary Walton

Australian journalist Alan Barber (left) admires the Great Auditorium as Lois Hetfield and Charles Layton tell him how Woody Allen once made a movie there. Photos by Mary Walton

By Charles Layton

Alan Barber, who runs the newspaper in Ocean Grove, Australia, turned up in our town on Monday. Lois Hetfield, the Chamber of Commerce’s administrator, showed him the Great Auditorium, and then the two of them, plus a couple of Blogfinger staffers, settled in for some coffee and chit-chat at the Barbaric Bean.

While we were talking Mayor Randy Bishop dropped in, and he and Barber proceeded to swap stories and make comparisons between the two namesake towns at opposite ends of the planet.

Barber is vacationing in New York City. Since he was so close by, he said he couldn’t resist seeing his “sister city,” so he hopped on the North Jersey Coast Line and came on down.

He explained that Australia’s Ocean Grove, southwest of Melbourne, was founded in the 19th century by Methodists from our own Ocean Grove. The coastal area where they established a camp meeting, based on the one in New Jersey, was the domain of Aboriginal Australians at the time.

Barber’s newspaper, the Ocean Grove Voice, is a bi-weekly, or “fortnightly” as they say down under. He was born in South Africa, grew up in the United Kingdom, where he became a newspaper photographer, and moved nine years ago to Australia, where he had friends and a brother. He settled in the area of Melbourne, which he considers Australia’s most interesting city, and then “discovered Ocean Grove by chance, really.”

The spot of land where the first Australian Grovers settled, next to a beach, is now a park, but the Camp Meeting Association still survives there, although it isn’t the dominating presence it is here.

The Australian Ocean Grove was originally a dry town, under a covenant that is still sometimes cited when someone wants to prevent a business from acquiring a license to sell liquor. Still, alcohol is now served in that town’s restaurants and bars, and Barber said the local coffee shop, The Olive Pit, just got a liquor license as well.

That’s not the only difference between here and there. Barber said the beach area there has no sidewalks and no boardwalk, just dunes. The town has two business districts with a total of 60 or 70 shops, plus there is a big shopping mall. A second mall is in the works, he said.

Ocean Grove, Australia, has about 12,000 residents now, but Barber expects it to grow to 25,000 in the next 15 years “because there’s a growth area at the north that’s developing.” Bishop told him that our Ocean Grove has between 5,800 and 6,000 people, but that our population can swell to as many as 21,000 on a busy weekend, counting day trippers and hotel guests. (Hetfield said we have about 500 hotel rooms now.)

Mayor Randy Bishop of Ocean Grove gets the low-down from Alan Barber of Ocean Grove

Barber told Randy Bishop (left) that The Barbaric Bean reminded him of The Olive Pit in Australia. One difference: The Olive Pit just got a liquor license.

Barber was especially impressed by our Great Auditorium, with its seating capacity of 6,500. He said the only performance space in his Ocean Grove is in a little place called The Piping Hot Chicken Shop, which features local blues bands and an occasional visiting band from Melbourne. Bishop wanted to know whether any of the street names in Australia matched those in our town, so we all started ticking off the names of our local streets — Lawrence, Cookman, Heck, Abbott… There was only one match: Ocean Grove, Australia, has an “Inskip,” Barber said.

According to Barber, his Ocean Grove has had a much harder time preserving its historic buildings. Development “is almost a free-for-all at the moment,” he said. People are leveling older structures and building “square boxes,” and there is no historical protection under the law. He said there was a local uprising that managed to keep a McDonald’s from moving in, but the town has allowed a KFC and a couple of smaller chain businesses.

As darkness was falling, Barber caught a train back to New York. He flies home to Australia on Thursday. He invited us to come and visit any time.

Oh, but here is a coincidence. Barber told us that while he was visiting here, the president of our Camp Meeting Association, Dale Whilden, and his family just happened to be visiting Ocean Grove, Australia. Barber said he was told the Whildens had dropped by his newspaper’s office to say hello.

If you want to read Barber’s newspaper, go to http://www.oceangrovevoice.com.

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Pearl Harbor Day in Ocean Grove, NJ.  Photo by Jane Killilea. Left click for full view

Pearl Harbor Day in Ocean Grove, NJ.  Pictured is the Neptune H.S. Junior ROTC Color Guard.  Left click for full view.   Photo by Jane Killilea (OG)

By Mary Walton

In years past, the annual Pearl Harbor Day remembrance has been staged on the western tip of the Ocean Grove fishing pier. After a brief ceremony, a wreath is passed to a police launch, from which it is cast out to sea.

Last year, thanks to Hurricane Irene, “We had only half a pier, so we had to do it on the east side,” said Ocean Grove Fishing Club president Al Dawson, a Korean War veteran. The boat played its customary role.

This year, there was no pier. The fragmented section that remains after Hurricane Sandy’s blitz is cordoned off by the orange netting used to signal danger. No pier, so no boat. It didn’t make sense to have a boat when no one could walk out on the pier, because “you wouldn’t be able to see it,” Dawson said.

But it takes more than a couple of hurricanes to derail a longstanding ceremony commemorating the infamous day when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor and triggered the United States’ entry into World War II. On Friday a small crowd of dedicated observers gathered in light rain for a prayer and a speech, a rifle volley and a moving rendition of Taps by Harry Eichhorn and Ed Wyzykowsky on trumpets.

The rain and the change in location, compounded by a newspaper notice in which the time was misstated by half an hour, made for a situation that “was confusing,” Dawson said. He held out hope that next year the ceremony can return to a rebuilt pier.

SOUNDTRACK.  From the album “World War II Radio Hits” Frances Langford sings “As Time Goes By”:

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A portrait of the author

By Charles Layton

Here is my problem: I don’t want anything for Christmas.

I don’t need clothes, I’m retired. My daily uniform is jeans and flannel shirts. My closet and attic are bursting with stuff I never wear. I put on a suit and tie about once a year – twice if it’s a really bad year.

Do I need gloves? Not really. I have two pairs.

A new parka? – got one last year, and it’s great.

How about a watch? Don’t wear one anymore. Like I said, I’m retired.

People used to give me music CDs and books at Christmas, but now I download all that to iTunes and Kindle. There’s nothing to wrap and put under a tree, unless it would be an Amazon gift certificate, which is embarrassingly unfestive.

I have all the electronics I can use. Desktop computer — check. Laptop — check. iPhone — got a new one. iPod – got one. Digital recorder — got one, seldom use it. Camera equipment – I use my wife’s. Don’t need more.

I don’t have an iPad or any other kind of tablet device, but that’s because I can’t figure out what I’d use one for, or why I’d want to carry it around.

What about some tools? I have all the tools I need. Anyway, I really don’t know how to fix anything.

You would think that having all the possessions one wants in life would be a good thing, wouldn’t you? And for most of the year it is. I am happy, I am blessed, my cup runneth over.

But come December, thanks to the commercially oppressive nature of the season, having all my earthly needs already fulfilled is awkward. Not wanting more makes me seem standoffish, alienated, uncooperative. I remember that my father used to feel something similar. “Christmas ought to be just for children,” he would say. I now think I know what he was getting at.

I stroll the malls, checking out the stores, and there’s just nothing there that appeals. If they were selling extra closet space, I would ask people to give me that.

I understand that people like to give gifts, that the impulse is natural and good, and I hate to be a Grinch, although I do recall that in the Dr. Seuss story the spirit of Christmas survived and flourished after the Grinch stole all the presents.

Here’s what I’m thinking. What if, this year, I just ask all my loved ones, instead of giving me something, to make a donation to the local food pantry or to Hurricane Sandy relief.

Would that be so awful? It’s what would really make me the happiest.

But OK, if anyone still insists on giving me something, I guess I could use some socks.

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