Author: Ellen Ricciutti

The proverbial finish line has been sighted!

Hello everybody,

Quite a few people have asked me the status of my book, and I am sincerely grateful for your interest. Your enthusiasm means the world to me! 

I figure the best way to update you is in a blog post. So here it goes.

As of today, the manuscript of One Time or Another is in the hands of the publisher awaiting its first phase of editing. In the meantime, I’ve been working on many other requirements for publication. You know those blurbs, taglines, and synopses on book covers you rarely glance at?  You guessed it, they’re written by the author… well, at least in my case they are. And let’s not forget the biography, dedication, and acknowledgments.  

I also need to suggest some ideas for the cover, which is not as easy as it sounds. If you have any suggestions, feel free to comment below.

Most difficult of all, I must submit a decent photograph of myself, and so far, I’m not happy with any of them.  Hey, I have some decent ones taken 25 years ago—do you think I can use those?  Yeah, probably not.

Basically, there’s a lot to do before July 21st, but I’m on it!

The Power of Words

There are few things as simple, yet as powerful, as a single word. One word can conjure up the strongest of emotions and memories.  The word meadow evokes a peaceful image of a grassy field dotted with clover and thistle. Or if I say the word war, horrific scenes of bloody battlefields enter your mind.  (“War, what is it good for? Absolutely nothing.” – Edwin Starr)

The fascinating thing about words and our vocabulary is that they’re continuously evolving.  Have you ever heard of the word, crake? Unless you grew up in the same small town as me, probably not. It means “fun,” as in “That was such a crake last night!” or, as written in my high school yearbook, “Ellen- you’re a real crake.”  High praise!

There came a point when the development/arrival of words started to outpace me. In the late 90’s, I was working in a children’s rehabilitation hospital when a teenage patient rolled up to me in his wheelchair and pointed at another boy hurrying down the hallway.

          “Did you hear him, Ellen? He dissed me in front of everybody!”
            PAUSE. “Um…what?”
           “Dissed me! In front of everybody!”
           “He dissed you. What does that even mean?!”
           He rolled his eyes. “Dissed! As in disrespect?”

Where was I when this slang word began? Well, I’m not one to dis a new word, so I plopped that one into my lexicon.

The thing is, these slang words seem to have an expiration date.

It’s now 2023, and I was working with a group of middle schoolers who were playing an online educational game called, “Blooket.” One of the boys managed to steal his opponent’s entire bank of points and win the game.

            “Wow,” I said. “You really dissed him.”

            “I… what?”

            “You know… You dissed him. By swiping all his points?”

            “Um. We don’t say dis anymore, Mrs. R.”

            “We don’t?”

            “Nope.” He shook his head. “That’s sus.”

What? Sus? Well, up your nose with a rubber hose.

Fasten your seatbelts, the future’s here

I work as a speech pathologist in a school, and every so often I marvel at the advancement of technology in the classroom. Words that are commonplace in a classroom today would be absolutely foreign fifty years ago. If the “me” from yesteryear sat in one of today’s classes, well, I’m absolutely certain I’d stare at the teacher with my jaw dropped to the floor.  Not sure what I mean? Well, let’s step into two classrooms and have a listen…

Which one sounds like Greek to you?! Be sure to leave a comment below!

1973

“All right, boys and girls. Now that you’ve watched the filmstrip about today’s lesson, take one of these dittos and pass the rest back to your neighbor. I just ran these off and they’re still warm from the mimeograph machine… stop smelling them and pass them back! If you need to sharpen your pencil, go line up behind the sharpener. The crank is a little stiff, just use a little muscle.

Okay, great. Now look at your ditto where we have a diagram, just like the one I drew on the blackboard. We’ll be using this diagram to write your answers for chapters 1 and 2. Yes, the box is small so be sure to print small and neatly. Anyway, as we read, pay attention to any interesting words we come across, look them up in one of the big, red dictionaries in the back of the room, and write the definition in the box on the ditto. When everybody’s finished, I’ll need a volunteer to erase the blackboard and someone else to wash it. The sponge is in the bucket. Get to work, everyone.”

2023

“All right, class. Now that you’ve watched the Brainpop about today’s lesson, take out your laptops and log in. The internet is a bit slow in this room, so give it time. Has everybody logged into their school account? Great. Now, make a copy of today’s slides and save them in your Reading folder and then share it with me. If it’s not working, check to make sure you’re out of presentation mode.

Okay, great. Now advance to slide 3 where we have a plot diagram, just like the one on the Smartboard. We’ll be using this diagram to type our answers for chapters 1 and 2. Yes, the text box is small but what this doc will do is give you extra room so you can keep adding. Don’t worry about the size. Anyway, as we read, pay attention to any interesting words we come across, look them up in Google, and put the definition in the text box. When you’re finished, make sure you hit save before you close your computer!  Get to work, everyone.”

Hello world!

Welcome to my blog, a place where I'll share my musings and eccentric thoughts.

My Childhood Home

A few years ago, my parents sold my childhood house. It shouldn’t be a big deal, I mean, it’s a typical rite of passage– children grow up and move out, and the house becomes too big for two elderly people. But to me, it is a big deal, and I’m having trouble dealing with the loss.

Yes, I’m mourning a house. A safe haven that was unconditionally present throughout my life’s journey.

My family moved into that house over fifty years ago. Countless birthday parties and sleepovers… illnesses and broken bones… Thanksgiving and football games… graduations, proms, and bridal showers. Our house was steadfast and always present, and as such, has kept me connected with a childhood that’s been determined to drift into the past.  

But, with a swipe of a ballpoint pen, the tenuous connection was unceremoniously severed like a sucker punch in the gut.

I drive past the house from time to time. The new owners are in the process of demolishing the innards… tearing down walls, paneling, and cabinets, pulling up carpet and ripping out fixtures. Basically tossing my memories into a dumpster.

With a trembling sigh, I roll past the house and try to say goodbye for the last time.

I know I’ll be back.

-Ellen

2/4/2023