Getting her facts straight... the word from Patricia Kennedy

 HALLIE EPHRON: One of my oldest and dearest friends is familiar here on Jungle Red: Patricia Kennedy. She and I have been friends since we met, standing on line waiting for our orders at a food coop back in... mustabeen 1976 because I was carrying my daughter in a Snugli. Pat would soon be starting her very successful public relations firm and I was starting a stint teaching at a local college.

Out of the gate, she and I loved to talk about writing and writers, words and grammar, and today she's always reading several books and actually keeping up with The New Yorker. She thinks a lot about words, grammar, and spelling, and getting it right. She might, in another life, have been an editor or a fact checker. In fact, she's been a star publicist whose job description included spinning facts, though never making them ip.

PAT KENNEDY: I started reading The New Yorker obsessively (or should that be “fanatically” or perhaps “compulsively) in 1966 when my then mother-in-law handed me my first issue which was devoted to (or “which contained the first installment of….”) Truman Capote’s genre-bending In Cold Blood. I have read every issue since. (“Can you verify this fact -- every issue? Really?”)

I am also the person who silently (mostly) corrects spoken grammar in my head unless it is egregiously stupid. I cannot bear the pervasive use of “Me and Kathleen are going to the store.” 

My grandchildren know how I abhor that. “Dear, you wouldn’t say, “Me is going to the store. So why do you say, ‘Me and Kathleen are going?”

The September 1 and 8 New Yorker issue has an entertaining and enlightening article about the magazine’s celebrated grammar and fact-checking (hyphenated?) titled: “Vaunted: How this magazine gets its facts straight.”

Zach Helfand mentions in his lead paragraph that the article’s draft that he turned in to the magazine’s checking department had seventy-nine errors. And that a New Yorker published in the eighties contained a thousand of them. (Helfand gleefully mentions that this fact wouldn’t survive a fact-checking today.)

I can’t tell you how relieved I was to read this. New Yorker writers make mistakes! Lots of them!

I so hate it when a reader points out a stupid mistake I made in a published piece – factual or grammar related. I can feel myself blushing as I have written some real “boners”. (Oh, gosh, here I go again. “Is a boner a vulgar term or a stupid mistake? Better come up with a better word.”)

Here's a doozy of a sentence I wrote once when I meant to use the word “cushions” but wrote “the boat was fitted out with cushy, white Christians.” I’d like to blame auto-correct for that, but I proofed the copy several times and never caught it – until the emails started coming in.

Even more embarrassing is when I finally noticed that the footer on my website page had a typo in my telephone number. Area code 671 instead of the correct 617. So careless. I hate it when I glaze over “facts” and get things wrong.

So, dear Reddies, let’s hear from you about your humiliating experiences with poor word choices, grammatical slips (Oxford comma or no?) and error prone facts. Surely, you have some great (and factual) stories to tell.

But before I go, read The New Yorker article. It is so fun to read – and reliably true. The fact checkers made sure of that.

HALLIE EPHRON: Confession, as they say, is good for the sole... er soul. Looking forward to reading your mea culpas.

Patricia Kennedy is a retired marketing communications professional who runs a bed and breakfast at Long Pond, Massachusetts and Key West, Florida for grandchildren, other relatives and friends. Rooms are fully booked. 

Skewered by a 13-year-old fashionista

 HALLIE EPHRON: Pat Kennedy, a long time commenter on Jungle Red, is a dear friend who's known me since I was a mere hatchling. She's stylish but no match for her granddaughter, a sassy 13-year-old fashionista.

PAT KENNEDY: I don’t think I ever quite achieved being totally put-together the way that a certain Red does with that flowing mane of silver blond hair, those gorgeous leather jackets, skinny skirts, stiletto heels and a perfect clutch accessory by her side. Truthfully, I sort of gave up on being Stylish-with-a-capital S when I began an exclusive relationship with a clearly matronly Baggalini handbag. I loved my well-organized Baggallini.

Until...

I was visiting my 13-year-old granddaughter Sophie who is so au courant that she writes a style blog for teenagers. A comment she made startled my confidence.

Sophie: “Bammy, that bag, that thing you’re carrying is just tragic.”

Bammy (me): “But why, dear. It’s the perfect handbag.”

Sophie: “It’s the subtle animal print that is just so horrid. You can’t be seen with that bag! We need to take you shopping.”

I fully recognized that “take you shopping” probably translated into “take me shopping” but her commentary shocked me into changing handbags instantly.

We didn’t go shopping but I did change handbags. Here’s what I chose from my closetful of fashion mistakes. No subtle animal print, but it does feature a metallic bronzed patina and braided handles. I didn’t ask for Sophie’s opinion probably because I worried what she might say – especially about that very large tassel.

As I said, I’ve lost my style-confidence. Can I just be honest? I missed my Baggallini with all its lovely practical card slots and zippered sections. This bag has just a big old empty space inside. There are no handy slots for credit cards and my driver’s license, so they’re all in a jumble at the bottom of the bag.

Before two days had passed, two cards fell out and were lost. I no longer have an actual wallet, so the money was also heaped in that pile at the bottom of the bag. Forget about retrieving my cell phone quickly – not gonna happen. Worst thing ever? No long cross-body strap.

I’ll be even more truthful. I put that bronzed beauty back in the closet and will just have to admit to Miss Sophie next time I see her that my Baggallini and I are once again an item.

HALLIE: Cheering for you, Pat. Because, can I be frank? I hate that big honkin' bag. I mean, tassel? It looks awfully heavy. And can it go in the washing machine?

But then, I love the Baggallini, too, though I see what Sophie means about the (barely noticeable) leopard print. I'm sure Sophie would consider my fashion choices (Baggelinis, Birkenstocks, Eileen Fisher) tragic, too.

Have you had a youngster puncture your sense of style? 

... and tune in tomorrow as the Reds discuss our own tragic and not-so tragic handbag choices. We'll answer this and other pressing questions: Can a diaper bag make a great purse?

Pat Kennedy is a public relations professional who's worked with clients for more than 25 years to help them understand their brand position and how to apply it across a spectrum of communication channels. Our successful approach helps clients successfully leverage and manage their brand – one of their most important assets.

The Food Coop

LUCY BURDETTE: You've all met our Jungle Red friend Pat Kennedy before. She garnered a lot of press for her post on Bad Boyfriends. A couple of weeks ago we were chatting online and the subject of food coops came up. I remembered carving up giant blocks of cheese in a member's garage after the delivery. Pat remembered--well I'll let her tell it!

PAT KENNEDY: Food Co-ops.  Remember them?  Back in the 1970s, a food co-op suggested more than just a whiff of “hippie-dippy” oddity.  Except perhaps the Milton Food Co-op, founded and run by a group of solidly middle-aged suburbanites.  I don’t think that any of the women wore a head-bandana, or love beads, or fringed vests.  And not one of the guys had a scraggly beard grown down to tickle his navel.

Our co-op members worked together to bring in wonderful produce from the Chelsea Markets in Boston, “whole foods” in bulk like rice, beans, dried fruits and more (all before there was a Whole Foods food chain).  We had cheese and spices and fish too! I like to think that the food co-op movement kick-started the foodie culture in this country.Food co-ops were gentle rebellions against what was available at that time in local grocery stores. “We should be eating fresher, ‘healthier’ foods – and have more options.”  At least that’s what our leaders told me.

As a young mom – and one from the Midwest at that – I had had a very vanilla relationship with the world of food up to that point.  Until I moved to New England, I had never eaten squash, nor any kind of cheese other than Velveeta, the Parmesan-shake-powder put out by Kraft, and possibly Cheeze Whiz (can’t remember when it was first marketed).  Don’t even ask about seafood.  But I did have a sense of culinary adventure, trying out a Julia Child recipe every week from her early TV shows, buying exotic spices  for those recipes (tarragon!) and was eager to taste and experience new foods. 

Imagine my surprise at Swiss chard – big fat, black-green bunches of it.  “What do you do with this?”  And hunks of Emmenthaler cheese!  I was even amazed at the different types of potatoes, and more surprised at all those squash varieties.

Now “food co-op” engenders a time and place that has vanished.  I suppose that people who are interested in food co-op-ing now belong to a CSA and get their produce directly from the growers.  Today, I could only find two food co-ops in the Boston area where I live (Jamaica Plain and Cambridge, naturally).   Here’s a link to a directory of food co-ops across the country.

But still I wonder if there are still young folks who never enjoyed an acorn squash baked with butter and brown sugar, or had shreds of kale floating in a soup, or had a luscious crust of melted Gruyere over Julia Child’s Potato and Sausage Casserole.

So dear Reds and other friends, did you ever belong to a food co-op?  And when did you give up the  toasted Velveeta cheese sandwich (on Wonder Bread, of course) for a grilled cheddar and Granny Smith apple on whole grain bread?   

Patricia Kennedy is a marketing consultant for healthcare organizations. She lives in Boston with her husband Joe, both wonderful and adventurous cooks.  For more information on Pat, www.PKCBoston.com.