talking in

My new blog. A work in progress. Always.

My dear friend, “Joe” (yes, his real name), will understand the genesis of this title since it is a joke between us. I tend to be an elevator talker and Joe is not. However, when we worked in the same building that never stopped me from trying to chatter at his rather stolid self with all number of personal remarks and asides. I think poor Joe was even forced to exit the elevator several floors prior to his destination just to get away from me, although he is much too nice to admit that.

For me, I guess it’s a New York Italian thing. And for Joe, he claims it’s a Minnesota Lutheran thing. In either case, I hope the chatter in talking in elevators will be the beginning of something which is why I am writing it in chapters (which is a definite conceit on my part). But you have to start somewhere. I hope that what I write about will be as honest (or honestly funny) as I can be as a writer and still have friends and remain employed. Honesty comes naturally to me, but honest writing is sometimes more of a challenge. So maybe that is part of this journey. I just hope that at the end of the day, when the elevator doors close, I am writing from the heart. And not driving too many people to dash out at the next floor.

2 thoughts on “talking in

  1. Betsy Brenner says:

    Talking in elevators. And waving your hands as you do. I’ve always believed those who descended from Italians … and Jews .. and Cubans, as it turns out – are actually The Same Clan! Domineering mothers! Three-dimensional guilt! Striving to succeed! Groaning family tables full of food! See — we’re all related. And we all wave our hands as we talk…in elevators.


    • You make a good point, Bets! It’s just that we don’t have the same er…um…diversity here in the good old Midwest so I often find myself in the waving my hands solo. Or maybe I am just riding the wrong elevators?


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