THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1997, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, January 5, 1997 TAG: 9701050067
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: ELIZABETH SIMPSON
LENGTH: 57 lines
Instead of bemoaning unkept resolutions as one year passes into the next, I'm going to ruminate on the things I am happy to see go in 1996:
The Tickle Me Elmo hysteria. I don't know which was worse: The people taking advantage of children's Christmas wishes by scalping the Sesame Street sweetheart for jacked-up prices, or the people who spent hundreds of dollars to get one.
Was it the doll's silly giggle, his inherent cuteness, that made him sell like wildfire, or was it a well-timed media blitz?
I will not answer that question for fear of running down my own profession. But I think I know why Elmo's laughing.
I'm glad I put behind me a double-whammy of a baby-boomer ritual: Getting my first pair of ``relaxed fit'' jeans - the hips are the first to go - and becoming a PTA member, both in the same week. Am I really old enough for all that? Can a minivan and orthopedic sandals be far behind?
In 1997, I vow to space out my rites-of-passages and not my waistline.
I am happy to see the publicity over a book called ``The Rules'' take a break from the talk-show circuit.
This popular little tome is supposed to teach single women how to ``capture'' Mr. Right. The authors advise playing hard-to-get with tips such as: Not accepting a Saturday-night date invitation after Wednesday. Not being the first to call a potential suitor. Never picking up half the tab. Always being the first to stop holding hands. Not returning Mr. Right's phone calls.
Huh? I'm still not sure which felt worse: My flashbacks to eighth-grade study hall, or my fears that the Victorian age is making a comeback.
I have a better idea for 1997, ladies. How about not revolving our lives around getting men, so that love comes about naturally instead of by manipulation?
I will not miss the litany of cheerleader mom stories that 1996 had to offer.
In the same year that one cheerleader mother got a 10-year sentence for hiring a hit man to kill a rival cheerleader's mother in Texas, we Virginians got our very own over-the-line cheerleader mom.
In November, a Rustburg woman was convicted of shoving and punching another cheerleader's mom during practice, before delivering the final act of indignity: Tearing off the other woman's wig.
Let's hope 1997 will see a return to more sportsmanlike behavior: No more hitting below the waist or above the hairline.
I will not miss the controversies over zero-tolerance policies. Girls suspended for taking Midol to school. First-grade boys expelled for kissing classmates. Kindergartners disciplined for bringing beepers to school.
In 1997, let's have zero tolerance for bureaucrats who follow the book without their brains.
I don't regret the loss of publicly funded, same-sex military schools. I like my tax dollars paying for defense instead of discrimination.
And finally, I will not miss one whit those ``What's hot, what's not?'' stories, the year-in-review ruminations and those annoying end-of-the-year-list columns.
Oops, sorry, this will be the last one you read in this space, I promise.