Virago Vagabond

Uh Oh. I know. It’s a pain for me to move this, but I have found a different blog service that I want to use for my main blog.
The title remains the same – Virago Vagabond.
That’s not to say I won’t use BootsnAll in the future, because I will. I love BootsnAll. But I’m moving my main blog to a new server. Sorry for the inconvenience.

I hope you’ll check it out.

If the link doesn’t work, here’s the address: http://viragovagabond.blogspot.com/

I’ll keep this blog open for a while just in case a friend misses the switch.

I hate it when movies and television steal great poems and quotes for gratuitous tear-jerker moments.

The Dylan Thomas/Bob Dylan references in “Dangerous Minds” is just one example in a sea of sacrilege.
I get the same feeling when I see BB King doing Burger King commercials and Janis Joplin selling a Mercedes Benz from her grave.

Is nothing sacred?

So while watching “Coach Carter,” in which Samuel Jackson plays a tough-as-nails basketball coach at a ghetto California high school, I started to cringe when one of his players recites a wonderful poem in a typical movie power moment. Dim the lights and cue the sappy soundtrack.

I had heard the poem before, wrongly attributed to Nelson Mandela’s 1994 inauguration speech.

It’s good, and once again Hollywood has bastardized it to sell a bucket of popcorn and a gallon of Pepsi.

Well, I’m not selling Goobers and $8 movie tickets. I just want to share it with you.

Our Deepest Fear
by Marianne Williamson
from A Return To Love: Reflections on
the Principles of A Course in Miracles

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God.
Your playing small does not serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you.
We are all meant to shine, as children do.
We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

There’s a hill on a road that’s named after my family.

It’s the refuse of a glacier that scraped across the continent thousands of years ago. In the fourth grade I learned the name of this landform, but I never remember it because I have another name for this hill.

I simply call it Mine.

And every year for as long as I can remember, I’ve gone to the top of my hill.

As a child, my mom would go with me and hold my hand. We’d pick blackberries on the hill and eat them until our fingers and lips turned bright purple and my belly ached. We’d watch hang gliders fly off the edge with their nylon wings, and hold our breath until they landed in the field below.

I remember one of my earliest visits to my hill. I ran through the tall grass and picked wild flowers. Mom warned me to stay close and not go far, but something called to me.

I let go of her hand and stepped to the grassy edge. I looked out at the entire world I knew. I could see my house, and my daddy’s farm. I could count the cows and see the soccer fields I played on.

As the wind blew my mother’s voice through my ponytail and fluttered my shirt, I closed my eyes and held out my arms and imagined myself soaring up over everything and flying away.

Now every year I go alone to the top of my hill. I stand at the edge, and I hold out my arms and close my eyes. And for a moment, just a moment, I soar up over everything and fly away.

I drive by my hill often, and every time I yearn to climb it and stand alone at the top of my childhood world. But even more, I yearn to leave my hill.

It’s time to really fly. Watch me soar.

(my apologies to Dr. Seuss for butchering his style)

Hello!

I have a question; it’s a big one too.
I need a suggestion, and I thought of you.
Over and over I’ve read Dr. Seuss’ book,
And from “Oh the Places You’ll Go” a lesson I took.

I need to see the places out there,
drive and fly and swim where I dare.
There are seven continents in the world,
people and places and things to be swirled.

Shaking me up, from inside and out,
that’s what my journey’s about.
I’ve set a date – it’s coming soon.
On Aug. 15 I’m leaving by noon.

“I’m throwing my life away”
I laugh out loud and say.
My family wonders, worries and weeps,
but these things are done in bounds and leaps.

Burning Man’s the first place that I’ll go,
but after there, I just don’t know.
North America, Antarctica, Timbuktu?
Where do I go, and what should I do?

Perhaps I’ll swim in the Mississippi,
and chat with an Asian hippie.
I could ride down the Nile,
or gaze at the Rockies and smile.

Maybe I’ll camp in nice parks,
and swim with Carribean sharks;
Climb mountains and hills,
and somehow deal with my bills.

Oh the places I’ll go,
but where I still don’t know!
So I’m asking you people who look at this site,
To send me your ideas – write write write.

No place on Earth is too near or too far,
if I can go by foot, plane, train, boat or car.
It’s time to add vagabond to this virago.
So please oh please let your thoughts flow.

For inspiration and consideration:

Oh, the Places You’ll Go!
by Dr. Seuss

(To read the story or leave a reply…) Read the rest of this entry »

I love librarians.

Forget the orders to whisper, the secret society of the Dewey Decimal System and the late-fee nazi. Librarians are mainly magical people.

They have tools, and they know how to use them. They might not know how to fix a car or speak Spanish, but give them five minutes and they can show you a source to find out.

There are these things called books. You might have heard of them. They’re at the library, and you can read them for free. And there are these things called computers, with the Internet. You guessed it, also free at the library.

But knowing what book or Web site to look at – this is one of the magic librarian’s powers. And their help is free too!

Even better is having a librarian as a friend. Especially an awesome Lady of the Library like Bliss Girl.
She knows about my hunt, and took it upon herself to help.

Look what she sent me!

Subject: They might not all be girls
Date: Thu, 23 Jun 2005 18:20:15 -0400

…but they are all elliottes!

My source, the Reference USA (directory) database, unfortunately
doesn’t provide gender information. But – equally importantly – it IS
searchable by first name.

So in case these 45 listings are helpful for you… here are some
gender-indeterminante Elliottes across the United States. It’s hardly
comprehensive, but I thought it might give you a few fresh leads.

Cheers,
Bliss Girl

List of 45 Elliottes with address and phone number. (I’m not on it because I don’t have a phonebook listing.)

What a friend! What a librarian! And to the brilliant man who dubbed her Bliss Girl – Bravo!

I just promised him I will add posts about things beyond the hunt, and I will – really. But I had to share this news.
Thanks BG.

FYI about the database, according to the Web site:

ReferenceUSA is an Internet-based reference service from the Library Division of infoUSA. The site was designed for use as a reference tool in libraries and is continually enhanced based upon suggestions from librarians and library patrons.

The ReferenceUSA database contains, in module format, detailed information on more than 12 million U.S. businesses; 102 million U.S. residents; 683,000 U.S. health care providers; 1 million Canadian businesses; and 11 million Canadian residents.

ReferenceUSA’s residential information is compiled from more than 3,900 White Page telephone directories. Each listing appears in the database exactly as it appears in the phone book. ReferenceUSA does not include unlisted phone numbers, Direct Marketing Association and Canadian Marketing Association suppression files, or state-regulated mail and telephone suppression files (U.S. data only). Information is available eight to 12 weeks after it appears in the phone book, and the file is processed through U.S. and Canadian National Change of Address records on a monthly basis.

Each U.S. residential listing also contains information from the most recent U.S. census, including median household income, median home value, latitude/longitude and percentage of owner-occupied housing.

At approximately 12:37 a.m. I emailed two theater groups – 7th Sign and NYMT Collective – an email asking them to forward it on to Elliotte Crowell.
This is her:

My email:

To Elliotte Crowell:
Hello. My name is Elliotte Ann Bowerman.
As you might have noticed, we have the same first name. This is why I have contacted you.
I realize I might sound crazy, but I am searching for female Elliottes (of various spellings).
I have heard “You’re the first female Elliotte I’ve met” my entire life, and I have never met another female Elliotte.
During a conversation with a friend, I wondered about the lives of other female Elliottes.
As a journalist, I’m just naturally curious.
So I am trying to find as many Elliottes as I can to talk with them about their names, their lives, and their experiences as female Elliottes.
You came up during my Google searches, and your picture proves you are in fact a female Elliotte.
As an actress, did you chose your first name or were you born with it?
I was born with mine, and somehow it fits me perfectly.
Either way, I would really appreciate the opportunity to speak with you.
I just started a blog about various things, including my hunt for female Elliottes.

You can read about it, if you like, at http://blogs.bootsnall.com/Virago+Vagabond/

I would really love to talk with you – via email or telephone, whatever works best for you – and then write a post on my blog.
It’s a funny idea, but I am sincere. For years I’ve wondered about the rare lives of female Elliottes.
I hope to hear from you soon.

Thank you for your consideration.
~Elliotte Bowerman

contact info I don’t want to post

Hopefully I’ll hear from her soon, or at the very least get some odd responses from the theater folks.
In the meantime, a friend has provided me with the name and phone number of a female Elliotte he knows. Thanks –

Since search engines are right at my fingertips, even as I type this blog, I have opted to Google for “Elliotte” female and “Elliotte” woman, etc.
I’m starting with my exact spelling, but I’ll branch out to various numbers of Ls, Ts and Es.

1:37 a.m. – The start of this blog and search.
So far, things look good. The searches have turned up the following female Elliottes to contact:
Elliotte Crowell – an actress – mail@7thsign.info
Elliotte Finn Orlove – Brett Orlove U Penn Class of 1988 and his wife, Debbi, happily announce the May 12 birth of their little girl, Elliotte Finn Orlove.
Elliotte Krier – in 2003 a 9-year-old girl who participated in a 5K race in Littleton, Colorado. She finished 136th out of 210 and it took her 37:56 minutes. Bravo.

2:14 a.m.
Ok, now I have spent about an hour going through a bunch of Google searches for all sorts of Elliottes, and I’m exhausted. A Google search for “Eliot” woman turned up 866,000 hits. Add another T – “Elliott” woman – and I hit 974,000.
“Elliotte” got me 196,00 hits – mostly for Elliotte Rusty Harold. The man’s prolific!

The big problem with these searches is Elliotte (and various spellings) is a last name and a first name, so female “Elliotte”s are really Sarah Elliottes and Jenn Elliottes – not Elliotte Elliottes. Or they’re Joe Elliottes and Bill Elliottes… you get my drift.

I still have to call the FBI, but there has to be another solution. I’d love to hear your ideas, and if you know a female Elliotte (I do mean her first name) – let me know.

I’ll continue hunting, but at least the search has given me some female Elliottes to contact.
Hold on, it’s 2:25 a.m. – better wait until dawn, at least.

In the hunt for female Elliottes, I figured it’s best to start close to home.
So, who keeps track of all the Elliottes in the United States?
What secretive, potentially evil government agency has a database that will reveal the female Elliottes of the world with a click of a mouse?
Mulling this over, I ran across my meager paycheck and found the answer – Social Security.
Everyone in the United States legally, and plenty of folks here illegally, has to have a 9-digit SS number.
When I started working, I burned my number into my brain. Other American female Elliottes out there must have done the same.
Light bulb – SS Elliotte could be the answer!

Time to hunt. A quick search brought me to the Social Security Web site, and a toll-free number to call with questions:
1-800-772-1213 (open 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. in Spanish and English. People who are deaf or hard of hearing, call 1-800-325-0778)
Quick clock check – 6:15 p.m. – still open!
After wading through 15 minutes of automated messages (I really hate those things) and punching my S.S. number into the service (here comes a tax audit), I finally reached a human being – Sharon.
I eagerly explained my situation:
“Hello, my name is Elliotte. I need to find women of my kind – the rare female Elliotte. Everyone has a Social Security number, including these unique individuals. Can’t you just do a quick search to tell me how many female Elliottes are out there?”

“Uh, ma’am, are you joking?”

“No, I am on the hunt for S.S. Elliotte.”

pregnant pause – “Ma’am, we don’t do that. I can’t find out how many Elliottes there are. We only search by numbers. I need nine digits, not a first name and gender. This is the wrong place for you.”

“Oh. Really? I thought Social Security knew everything. Do you know who can help me?”

“No ma’am, I don’t.”

“Ok, maybe I’ll call the FBI, or the IRS. Thanks.”

Quick search of the FBI site:
The FBI can be contacted twenty-four hours a day, every day. Here’s how:
FBI Headquarters in Washington, D.C.
Call (202) 324-3000

What’s behind door number two?

“Hi. My name is Elliotte.”
surprised look – “Elliotte? For real, your name is Elliotte?”
mental sigh – “Yes. Elliotte. My dad named me after a cocktail waitress in Hawaii. Nice to meet you Joe.”
This is a conversation I have had hundreds, perhaps thousands of times.
As a writer, many readers seem surprised to hear a feminine voice on the phone when they call. The unique spelling leads to jumbled sounds that might be close cousins with Swahili- “eeeeelieoat” “eeeelowette” and “elleeeetay” are just a few.
But I don’t mind. It’s actually fun to be surprised with a new way of butchering my name. And dad might not have planned it, but he certainly made me memorable at the bars.
There are very few female Elliottes in the world- at least I think there are. I haven’t found any evidence of a sleeper Elliotte cell anywhere. Have you?
In comparison to the glut of Sarahs, Jennifers and Amys (I know at least 10 of each) – I love being unique.
I wonder if other female Elliottes agree.
But I don’t know, because I’ve never actually met or even spoken with one.
I don’t even know how many are out there roaming the world, or even the United States.
Today I decided it’s time to find out.

Here’s the plan:
I am going to search for female Elliottes by any means available – the Internet, the phone book, inside government sources and people I know, just to name a few off the top of my head. If you know a woman/girl/virago named Elliotte, let me know!
When I find one, and I know I will, I want to talk with her, maybe even meet her. I want to find out about the origin of her name, and how she has used it to her advantage. There is power in a name like Elliotte, and I have a feeling those blessed to have it – by birth or by choice – have utilized that power.
And after I meet or talk with a female Elliotte, I’ll tell you about her.
It’s information you’ll want to know. And if I happen to spawn a wave of baby girl Elliottes, the world better watch out – we’re dangerous.

Now, nasty dictionaries (note the word “dic” in their name) make viragoes sound bad – a quick Google search gave me “a noisy or scolding or domineering woman,” and wikipedia even said it’s ” a pejorative name for a verbally abusive and angry woman. It is borrowed from Latin virago, which means ‘resembling (-ago) a man (vir)’. ”
Well, this “noisy, domineering, angry woman” says to hell with all that.
I got the wonderful phrase Virago from Florence King’s book “Confessions of a Failed Southern Lady.”
In it King writes that viragoes are “the only V worth having… A virago is a woman of geat stature, strength and courage who is not feminine in the conventional ways.”
That’s me to a V.
Like King’s mother, I should have it painted on my bowling ball. If I had one, I would.
Instead, I’m painting it on my blog.
Perhaps my parents knew before I was born that I wouldn’t fit the conventional ways of womanhood.
My father decided to christen me Elliotte, the name of a cocktail waitress he met on vacation in Hawaii. She’s not my mother, and dad claims “nothing happened, I just liked the name.”
I’ve yet to meet another female with the same name, although the brilliant show “Scrubs” has a female Eliot Reid (I like my spelling better) as one of its main characters.
A few people have told me they’ve met other female Elliottes (spelling varies), and another quick Google search showed me “Elliotte Crowell” is an actress, but generally I’m a unique first encounter with the female Elliotte kind.
I like it that way, because my dad might not have known it when he named me Elliotte, but I’m a woman of geat stature, strength and courage who is not feminine in the conventional ways.
So when I start my vagabonding in August, you can call me Elliotte, or Virago for short.