<a href=” http://billcrider.blogspot.com/”>Bill Crider</a> is one of those people who upends this whole apple cart about how blogging is a young person’s game. Because Bill is, um, possibly over 30, and yet has an encyclopediac knowledge of pop culture, as his delightful blog establishes.
But, as I head out for book tour, I always liked to revisit a lesson that Bill taught me years ago, with consummate gentleness and consideration. In fact, he didn’t even try to teach me this lesson, which is perhaps the best way to instruct other people.
You, see, Bill comes from Mexia, Texas, a town I covered in my early reporting days. Once, upon encountering Bill and his lovely wife, Judy, at a convention, I told them this old joke about how hard it is to say the town’s name. They laughed appreciatively.
Years later, Bill, in commenting on the DorothyL listserv, mentioned how tired he was wife was of the joke about how hard it is to say Mexia. It was a light bulb moment for me and I wrote Bill and told him as much. Bill, being Bill, apologized, when he had done nothing wrong. He had been a perfect gentleman, laughing politely at a joke he had heard many times.
And this led to the development of the Crider House Rule: If there’s something that people obviously say to someone all the time — don’t say it.
Don’t make fun of people’s names. There’s a guy at the Baltimore Sun named Peter Schmuck. Do you honestly think you can say something, anything, that he hasn’t heard about his name?
Don’t say the obvious thing about people’s hometown, or home states. Recently, I asked the writer Ann Hood, who hails from Rhode Island, “Do people constantly try to sing ‘Rhode Island is Famous For You’ in your presence?” Her sigh said it all. And my question was dangerously close to being in violation of the Crider House Rule. Acknowledging the obvious, even in commiseration, is still acknowledging the obvious.
At the same time, I use Bill and Judy, who laughed so politely at a joke they had heard so many times, as my role model. Which is to say: If I smile and laugh when someone observes that I have a wretchedly bad signature — yep, I’m playing by the Crider House Rule.
Meanwhile, if I could go back in time, I’d tell the Criders about how Limestone County helped to form a vivid — and disturbing — image of Central Texas the very day I arrived there.
What question/statement/observation could you happily go the rest of your life without hearing ever again?
Kevin,
I know about him because he featured in a story on Gilligan’s Island. (I was definitely born after 1935.)
This is also how I know many of the most famous melodies from Carmen. Remember when they staged Hamlet? Neither a lender/nor a borrower be/Do not forget!/Stay out of debt!
I can’t remember the next few lines, but it ends, of course, on:
There is just/one other thing/thou hast to do/To thine ownself be true!
The Legend of Zelda. I just tell them that I had the name first.
Not exactly what you are asking for but I am amazed at how often I get asked this AFTER I tell someone that I am a librarian: “Oh, but what do you do?” (They are not asking what kind of librarian I am, they want to know what I “DO”). More people than I ever imagined truly think that a librarian spends his/her workday reading and shushing people.
On another note-good luck with the tour! I will not be able to see you but I will be able to get a signed copy of the new work. (My copy of Hardly New Her is still waiting to be signed and I had visions of just adding and adding to the pile and then horrifying some poor bookseller by finally getting to a signing and walking in with a tall stack of books previously purchased elsewhere to be signed.)
Happily, my nephew now works at the Hopkins B&N and is going to get a copy for me!
I too remember Wrong Way Corrigan–on Gilligan, it was Hans Conreid as Wrong Way Feldman, twice if I recall–and I remember asking my mother about it.
And that’s also how I got to know Carmen, Hamlet and Phil Silvers in one fell swoop.
“I ask to be/or not to be/that is the question that I ask of me!”
I work in a bank, and if I NEVER hear anyone joke about giving them all my money again it will be too soon. I’ve been robbed and it’s not fun and why people insist on joking about things like that I just don’t understand.
Three things I’m sick of hearing:
“Wow! Must’ve been something to see the [Cuyahoga River] catch fire.” Because, even my younger brothers, who weren’t born in 1969, piled in the back of Dad’s Fairlane to watch the river burn. In 1969. And never mind I grew up one county away from Cleveland.
“Have you ever met Lonnie Anderson/Les Nessman/Johnny Fever?” Yes, everyone in Cincinnati has. In fact, my wife used to date both Les and Johnny when she worked for Q102. It’s WKRP’s sister station after all.
“If your name is Winter, why do you hate cold weather?”
:::Rolls eyes. The name and the season are coincidences. I not only hate cold weather, I hate snow, I hate rainy days in the forties, I hate ice, and until I remarried, I pretty much thought Christmas meant Scrooge sold out. (I’ve sorta warmed up to our growing collection of spiritual and seasonal observances bastardized by the retail industry.) If I had to do it all over again, I’d call myself Joe Summer.
In Goodbye Columbus, I think someone says to the librarian (a young man): You must get first crack at all the bestsellers.
I’m beginning to think that someone should throw a party, write these various questions on pieces of paper, affix them to one another’s backs and then, based on the conversations that ensue, you have to guess whose life you’re living at the party. (Sort of like ALL ABOUT EVE. But not.)
Also, that would involve getting everyone here into the same time zone, which may never happen.
For years people have been asking me, “When are you going to write your book?” I have other friends…librarians and non-librarians, but avid readers who get the same question. My stock answer is,”Never. It would interfere with my reading.”
I eat too, but nobody has ever asked me when I’m going to be a chef.
Diane, I know what you mean about “what do you do?” to librarians. If they are persistent I begin telling them all about the Dewey Decimal Systerm. <G>
My wife, who is a librarian, often gets asked what “RATS” means, which is listed on several signs around the library.
It stands for “Read All The Signs,” which they’d know if they did.
Fairy Tales: 398
Biography: 921.
I used to know it all, but, well — my memory!
How tall are you. Boy are you tall. Do you play basketball? (don’t hear that one too often now that I’m in my 40s) Icing on the cake when I say “6 feet” and they don’t believe me.
“If they are persistent I begin telling them all about the Dewey Decimal System.”
It was news to me (thanks to LL’s hidden-Baltimore video) that there is a different sytem that some libraries (including Pratt) use – (going from memory) – ‘The Library of Congress’ system?
Sounds like the beginning of a good conspiracy theory..
Anyway – with the initials “BS” – I hear a variety of jokes about that; and my middle initial is J – and growing up I was a ‘BJ’, which leads to another set of predictable remarks.
Is your name really Margaret?
I say, No, that was my aunt’s name because I had an Aunt Margaret.
I’m guilty of asking dumb questions though myself. And this helps to put my feet in someone else’s shoes… thanks.
Peg
I had a summer job as a surveyer at a small family-run amusement park. 5 questions asked, 3 joke responses (times 20K!!), over nd over, I have never made jokes to someone i don’t know ever again, because I learned creativity is not possible in unknown circumstances.
My First Name: Bryon
My Last Name: Quertermous
The list of things I’m sick of hearing is endless.
And then I went and named my kid Spenser…
Zelda, were you named after Zelda Fitzgerald? No, she was a most depressing excuse for a human being.
Or from younger people, I get “like the video game?”
And I didn’t even know there was a video game!
I grew up in a doll museum in central Florida. We were a little bit south of Disney World, and we did get tired of comments about that. But the one question everyone asked–and asks to this day when the topic comes up–is:
“Isn’t it weird having all those eyes staring at you?”
Or variations on that theme. And my answer is, no. Flat, empty, no, period.
My grandmother collected them, she didn’t have a problem with it. And, of course, growing up in that setting, I never knew anything other than that for years, so it never seemed odd or weird to me.
I can understand why it might to some, but I’m hoping I don’t have to answer that question for the rest of my life. Then again, it’s better than the odd stares I get from people who probably want to ask the question but don’t…
“Don’t make fun of people’s names. There’s a guy at the Baltimore Sun named Peter Schmuck. Do you honestly think you can say something, anything, that he hasn’t heard about his name?”
Thank you in particular for this.
Dusty
Dusty, I’m so dim I never even contemplated why this might matter to you.
Now that my parent’s generation is passing on (my Dad died last month at 87), I rarely hear any more, “Kevin Corrigan, eh? Any relation to Wrong Way?”
It would seem that nobody born after 1935 knows of Wrong Way Corrigan, the aviator turned actor who 1st gained fame by saying he was going to fly from NY to LA and taking off from Bennett Field and landing in Dublin.
My first name is Deb, but when I was young, everyone called me Debbie. I’m not very tall so everyone thought it was just incredibly funny to call me Little Debbie Snack Cakes.
I went off to college and told everyone to call me Deb, but occasionally some wit would conjure up the nickname.
Recently one of my old high school friends wrote that evil name in a response to one my comments about a photo on his facebook page.
If weren’t for the Nutty Bars I’d boycott that damn company…
Gee, when I said the same thing to Bill he punched me in the mouth. Maybe being an attractive female gets you a pass.
You know, I remember that meeting well. The Monterey Bouchercon. I confess, though, that I never would have guessed that you remembered. I also recall the joke, which I will not repeat here, but I’ll be glad to laugh at it if you want to tell it again.
Bill,
I learned my lesson and never tell that joke. In fact, the joke, has an inherent flaw; it really only works if you know of Mexia, Texas, but if you know of Mexia, Texas, you probably already know the joke.
Still working on the part about being as gracious as y’all were.
My students call me “Senor Blanco,” “Mr. Green,” “Mr. Purple,” and all sorts of colors. Which is even worse as I’m partially color blind.
Have fun on tour!!
As someone up the line said, some jokes die out. Used to get a lot of Abbott and Costello jokes. But not in years. I do get a lot of “Do you really live in Detroit? I hear that’s the worst place to live in the country.” Tell me about it.
There’s a town waaaay up north in Michigan’s upper peninsula named Copper Harbor. The usual jokes are that there are only two seasons; July and winter and that summer is two weeks of bad ice fishing. During my last visit I was sitting in a restaurant parking lot with a friend of mine who’d moved up there. [We were waiting to see if the bears were going to try and raid the dumpster.] I asked her if she was sick of the tourists asking what the few hundred locals did during the long cold winter. She said, “Nope,I look them right in the eye, give them my sweetest little smile and say, ‘ When we get bored we just swap husbands.’ ”
Priceless.
John McAuley
“We have saying here in ______________. If you don’t like the weather, wait a minute.”
I think they say that EVERYWHERE IN THE ENTIRE WORLD.
“Graham? Like the cracker?”
When I was applying to Northwestern I met with the dean of the school of speech. She introduced herself as Kathy Martin. Coming from a small town in Indiana, I thought it was the pinnacle of sophisticated wit to say: “Dean Martin, how’s Jerry Lewis doing these days?” She rolled her eyes and said to me, “Gee, I’ve never heard that one before.” Luckily, I still was accepted into the school of speech and later on became—and Laura I know you’ve must’ve heard this one and I’m sorry–a Midill-do (pronounced Ma-dildo).
Needless to say, I always remember Martin/Lewis the way you remember the Crider House Rules.
And with the last name of Crocker, you can guess what I’ve been asked – “any relation to Betty?”
Mexia, where the Ponzi scammer Robert Allen Stanford is from? That may be the new thing everyone says to Bill Crider.