Clinton Township Newsletter

1 A u g u s t 2 0 1 4 Oh the joy of buying "stuff"! Back in marriage #1 there were many lean years of counting pennies. We spent time deciding what we could spend in money. Never owned a credit card and paid cash for most purchases. As the years went by, monetary restrictions eased, but budgeting for orthodontia, piano les- sons and college tuitions was high on the priority list. By marriage #2 the kids had completed their education and were on their own, which meant we had enough moola to splurge oc- casionally on clothes, cruises and cross-country flights. Fred and I did, however, thoroughly weigh potential expenditures before funding fun. Now that I'm alone and living on a pension and Social Security, even the idea of a canoe trip up the Raritan River seems extravagant, unnecessary and, mostly, just too much trouble and energy. But, the good news is I am ready, willing and able to shell out the bucks to buy "stuff." And my favorite place to do this is the gift shop at Hunterdon Medical Center. Every Tuesday on my volunteer day I walk in the front door and head to the gift shop, strategically located a few steps from the entrance. I don't Pass Go, I don't hesitate on the threshold, I don't sign in to work until I browse the two narrow aisles to determine what new goodies Manager Pat has put on display for all of us who are prone to shopoholicism. Consequently, I can't tell you the number of items I purchase, take home and then wonder why on earth did I think that coffee cup coaster, those scented hot pads or the pair of mini-watermelon salt and pepper shakers looked so quaint and tempting on the shelf –but proved to be less than useful back on Charlotte Drive. The shop displays lovely long, sleeveless sum- mer dresses. It isn't that I can't afford one, it's simply that I can't afford to be seen in public in a size 8, bare arm ensemble more suited to Gwyneth Paltrow after a five-day fast. But I've bought a bunch of neat stuff, as well. The stuffed pig that snores, the stuffed dog that breathes are treasures. And how did I ever get along without that little plug-in aquarium with its swimming goldfish? My daughter is often the polite recipient of Christmas gifts I've picked up which looked wonderful when purchased in July, but somehow lost their panache by December 25. (Where is that silver rope bracelet/necklace I was sure you would fancy?) Buying stuff is a hobby. It's a high. It's addictive. It's just one more way I make myself happier. Downtown Clinton – you're next! A u g u s t 2014 J u l i e F ly n n, e d i t o r Since 1982 "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" ~ William Shakespeare While pursuing my BFA in Communi- cations Design at Parsons, I was hired part-time as a "visual proofreader" at Forbes Magazine, conveniently located right next door to our school (13th & 5th Ave.). I put the title in quotes because the Deputy Art Director at the time just made it up. It was an apt description because, even though I didn't get to design like I really wanted, all layouts had to pass my inspection to make sure they fit the Forbes format before going to print. This was a pretty heady experience at the age of 20. This job required only two weeks out of each month, from 6:00 pm to 3:00 am (yes, you read that correctly), at deadline time. Those two weeks, however, were the most stressful, culminating at the print stage. If you've ever worked at a publication, you might know what this is like. The process was pretty fascinating to me. As I can best recall, the system went like this: prior to those two weeks, the writers, some of them famous, submit- ted their copy to the art directors, who would then design the layout on their (now ancient, as this was the late 80's) computers. The text would be sent to the typesetting department, who would actually type the text into their typesetting machines – this method is now archaic, but at the time it was standard practice. The typesetters, usually all quite genial, could get a bit stressed at times. Once I remember a telephone (and not a small one) being thrown at a wall where it hit and broke a big glass- covered clock. Since this happened as I was leaving the room, I believe their anger was directed at me. But I didn't stress about it. I was just a kid, shrugging my shoulders and thinking to myself, "Oh well!" Then I had to pick up the layouts and deliver them to the proofreading department. The proofreading department consisted of about 8-10 really nice people who looked as if they hadn't slept in three years. In addition, they were all trapped together in a small room. I never remember seeing any of them leave, although I'm sure, this being the land of the free and all, that they were allowed. After the proofreaders reviewed the layouts, I then had to deliver them to the fact checkers. The people in the fact checking department mirrored those in the proofreading department in every way: 8-10 nice people trapped together in a small room... totally exhausted. They had something extra though: a constant air of acute anxiety. I vividly recall one of them appearing at my desk – the conversation went something like this: Me: "Wow Tim – I didn't recognize you actually standing up and outside of your fact-checking prison." Tim (not laughing): CAN YOU HELP US WE HAVE A MAJOR PROBLEM!!!" Me: "Sure Tim, how can I help you?" (looking at the layout) Tim: "IS THIS A 57' CHEVY OR A 58' CHEVY??!!! NO ONE KNOWS!!!" I think I tried not to laugh, but I'm afraid I was probably not successful. continued on page 3... "If you have any young friends who aspire to become writers, the second greatest favor you can do them is to present them with copies of "e Elements of Style." e first greatest, of course, is to shoot them now, while they're happy." –Dorothy Parker, e Collected Dorothy Parker www.ClintonTwpNewsletter.com

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