Pinking out: Ban on girlish color backfires

My best efforts to ensure my little girl would not live in a sea of pink were useless. She loves pink. She lives pink. She wants pink.

I am reminded of her love for pink right now as I sit in the midst of pink flowers, pink glitter, pink paper, pink .... Well you get the idea.  She is hundreds of miles away.  I am in crafting, creating small pieces of pink for her upcoming wedding.

I wanted her to live in a world without stereotypes. But I knew pink was her color of choice early on just by looking at her toys or the clothes she picked out.

At least my effort to ensure she would know she could be anyone or anything she wanted to be turned out better. Right?

Certainly, you need to be a strong woman to move to another state permanently.

Certainly, you need to be a thinking woman to succeed in business -- she's a store manager in Tennessee.

Certainly, you need to be a wise woman to know sometimes you need to start over. She now volunteers at a hospital and will go back to college this fall for a few classes needed before embarking on a venture to become a physician's assistant.

First, though, there's a pink and aqua wedding in Tennessee. Pink bridesmaids' dresses. Pink bouquets. Pink glitter, pink ribbons, pink this and pink that. Even the white wedding cake will showcase some pink -- in the form of the pink cancer ribbons.

After the wedding, she'll go to school and work. 

After the wedding, I'll donate any and all pink flowers, fabric, ribbon and other craft leftovers to help an area breast cancer walking group raise money.

After the wedding, I'll try to figure out why I ever thought pink wasn't a good color for girls.

A floodgate opens

Surprise. Some still check this area to see what's new and what's spilling out through my fingers.

Sadly, perhaps, I've take another vacation from writing, from reading most blog posts, status updates and Twitter.

Saddest of all is I've lost interest in newspapers. Instead I get my news from the TV, from the Internet, and from friends and family.

The newspapers pile up because I still cannot stop subscribing. I cannot throw out an unread newspaper.

For awhile, I was checking the advertising inserts carefully. But then I realized I wasn't going to head to the stores for the bargains unless I had a need. And do I need an ad to tell me I need something? That makes it easier to throw out the ads unread.

I pick up the newspaper each day it is delivered. I start to read it and then get stopped by another activity, or  worse by an unanswered question in the story. Take a short piece about a film at local place. The writer explains the details are on the website. My questions: Which website? The film's? The place where it is being shown? The one where the article is?

The surprise is how little of the what is in the newspaper is relevant to the day the newspaper comes out.

Perhaps though this interest was just dormant while I worked on preparing a body worthy of the new mechanical knee inserted in my flesh.

This week I spent a whole morning hunting through Facebook, catching up on family and friends.

The big splash on TV on another big study on breast cancer and the upcoming pinking of everything reminded that most don't know my daughter continues to show no signs of cancer returning.

A search for some information for an obituary for my stepdad uncovered the death of editor Ben Burns and a reminder of his dedication to a multicultural cadre of journalists covering a multicultural world.

Both deaths remind me I've never acknowledged the passing of one of the greatest news people I've ever known. Dave Poniers deserves more  from me. But his death came too fast after the deaths of two who  influenced my early days in Flint, especially post-divorce.

Yes, life is moving too fast not to stop and share what's inside and outside

Surprise II: This was written months ago and I thought published then.