{"id":7705,"date":"2016-05-20T19:22:23","date_gmt":"2016-05-20T19:22:23","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/idsunmedia.com\/?p=7705"},"modified":"2016-05-20T19:22:23","modified_gmt":"2016-05-20T19:22:23","slug":"chatty-cathy","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/2016\/05\/20\/chatty-cathy\/","title":{"rendered":"CHATTY CATHY"},"content":{"rendered":"

BY JOELLEN COLLINS<\/span><\/p>\n

\"JoEllen
JoEllen Collins\u2014a longtime resident of the Wood River Valley\u2014is a teacher, writer, fabric artist, choir member and unabashedly proud grandma known as \u201cBibi Jo.\u201d<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

I\u00a0<\/span>have enjoyed being a storyteller, a characteristic I finally realized when I looked back at the brightest experiences of my life. In most cases I am pleased with what this trait has meant: as a child adopted by parents who were childless for 10 years of marriage, I was encouraged to talk about everything. My parents considered \u201cshut up\u201d not only rude but almost obscene. Thus, I performed for family guests; I even \u201chelped out\u201d my radio-announcer father by sitting on his lap from time to time and being allowed to share his mike; and I joined AFTRA [American Federation of Television and Radio Artists] before I was 16. Later, I developed a public speaking business. In short, my verbosity was inordinately rewarded.<\/span><\/p>\n

Naturally, I became a high school and college English teacher \u2013 what better captive audiences \u2013 and some former students have told me they actually enjoyed the little vignettes of stories I would use to capture their attention. Now I still get to teach teenagers and hold occasional workshops in my community. I am blessed and my soul is rewarded with almost indescribable pleasure at these opportunities.<\/p>\n

However, some of my being so talkative has interfered with my joy in communication. My memory falters and so even familiar names and titles frequently elude me. This may be a natural consequence of growing old, but it seems especially embarrassing for one who has always relied on her verbal skills.<\/p>\n

Another mistake of being as loquacious as I am is the babble that I often create. The other day, a group of readers was discussing a book. My English teacher imp leapt into my anxious-to-give-an-opinion self, and I couldn\u2019t resist contributing a comment when the chance arose. I expressed an idea which I later realized came out the opposite of my meaning, not reflecting a view I would have stated more effectively if I had waited and thought. I suffered what I call an emotional hangover over the misstatement.<\/p>\n

I catch myself interrupting more than I used to and repeating things unnecessarily. I never wanted to be considered a clich\u00e9d \u201cgarrulous old lady,\u201d but I may have become so. I am trying to listen more and talk less. I HAVE learned as a grandmother not to offer \u201cwisdom\u201d or advice to my daughter and son-in-law, unless asked, and even then to be careful about any judgmental opinions.<\/p>\n

Recently, I had whooping cough and was virtually voiceless for several weeks. I fear that my friends and family were slightly relieved that no one had to pay attention to the usually verbose woman in the corner \u2013 moi!<\/p>\n

I am hoping that the benefits of some awareness and maturity will help me rein in my need to babble on. Unfortunately, as one who lives alone, I probably talk to my dogs too much and, once released from home, find myself throwing out verbiage even to strangers. I will try not to! I hope the next time someone asks me how I am, I won\u2019t be tempted to tell them the details!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

BY JOELLEN COLLINS I\u00a0have enjoyed being a storyteller, a characteristic I finally realized when I looked back at the brightest experiences of my life. In most cases I am pleased with what this trait has meant: as a child adopted by parents who were childless for 10 years of marriage, I was encouraged to talk […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":7944,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"tdm_status":"","tdm_grid_status":"","_pvb_checkbox_block_on_post":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2,22],"tags":[],"class_list":{"0":"post-7705","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-commentary","8":"category-on-lifes-terms"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7705","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=7705"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7705\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/7944"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=7705"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=7705"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=7705"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}