Erma Bombeck Might Have Cured My Cancel Pleasure Condition

I am here in Dayton, Ohio, at the Erma Bombeck Writers Workshop. If I wait until it is over to write a recap of the weekend, then it is sure to be too long. I will divide it up. Day One was pretty cool, and I will tell you three reasons why.

1. I started my morning by walking over to the Dayton University Library where they have a big exhibit on Erma Bombeck. I’m telling you that I got chills in that space with her typewriter, newspaper clippings, and correspondence. I felt almost teary eyed reading her words. It’s clear to me just how much she lead the charge for women as humorists.
2. My name tag badge has an added blue ribbon that says, “First Timer,” so that veteran Erma Workshop attendees can welcome us or be helpful. It was great to spot other newbies. I made a few friends tonight. Believe me when I tell you at first I felt like I was back in a middle school cafeteria trying to find a person to talk to or sit with.
3. The third part that was cool about the opening day was meeting two authors I really like. One who is a relatively new other who also had a podcast (Moms Don’t Have Time to Read) Her name is Zibby Owens, author of Bookends (a memoir) and Blank (a funny fictional novel). I went a little fan girl on her. The other author, Anna Quindlen, was interviewed on stage. She’s a favorite of mine, fiction and non fiction. I brought a book for her to sign. She was lovely to talk to. One quote I wrote onto my phone that Anna said which really stuck with me was (in referring to the collective group of authors in the ballroom), “We are the connectors in a world that needs connecting.”
   

The last part of the evening they opened up the mic for anyone volunteering to read aloud something they were working on, or a piece they wrote for the Erma Writing Contest if it had not been chosen as a winner. It was entertaining to listen to all of the writers read their work. A few months ago I sent in a humor entry (450 words or less) and did not win. I did not read it aloud on stage. In the spirit of sharing, I have decided to include it below. The topic is Cancel Pleasure. Without a single itty bit of a doubt, I am glad that this Writing Workshop did not get cancelled or that I did not have to cancel it for any reason. One sentiment I took away this morning from my visit to the Erma Exhibit made me think about the piece I wrote. Erma wrote a whole page about “If I had to live my life over again…” One line was, “I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained and the sofa faded.” That one line made me reconsider my cancel pleasure.

MY ENTRY into the Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop:

“We cannot make it tonight.”

“Of course we can reschedule,” I replied into the phone, attempting to mask my inner happy dance. 

Cancel pleasure!

A rush of dopamine washes over my introverted body. I am not a social recluse. I like people (sometimes). We make plans and look forward to them. But when something comes up like a scratchy throat or an 8% chance of snow then things change. I am more than fine with that. Delighted in fact, because I suffer from (or relish in) cancel pleasure.

Not to be confused with cancel culture where one’s public actions or words are deemed socially unacceptable leading to a boycott. Cancel pleasure is much better (and socially acceptable I hope). It is that feeling one gets when you can put back on your pajamas, keep your car inside the garage, and sink into the sofa. It is the highly coveted gift of time. 

I am aware that not everyone enjoys a good cancellation like I do. Last Saturday morning my son paced around the kitchen in his collared shirt and golf pants. He stopped walking and read the text on his phone and threw up his hands.

“Darn it! He can’t play now.” 

“Bummer! But now you can get comfortable and relax.” I reminded him, “It’s a bit cold outside anyway. And you get a little cancel pleasure!” My son frowned at me and then texted someone else to play golf.

Modern technology makes cancelling even easier. Rather than a painful conversation on the phone hearing the disappointment in a friend’s voice, you can simply send a short text and add some emoji (the green barf face or the masked face both work great). Even better if you’re on a group thread and others start bowing out, you can join in with, “Gee it looks like only half of us can make it to dinner. Maybe we should reschedule?” Then your comment gets thumbs-up likes. Now we are all enjoying some cancel pleasure.

COVID tipped the scales and overfilled our cancel pleasure tanks. Parties, weddings and trips were all cleared off the calendar. It’s no fun to sit at home with your son in cap and gown as his name is announced on a virtual college commencement ceremony. Or to change a big family reunion beach vacation to a chaotic Zoom call with technology challenged elders (like me). No dopamine rush there. 

But alas, we rebounded and we are happier than ever to get out and see people. Restaurants, stadiums, and airports are now buzzing with crowds. Places to go and people to see. Go, go, go.

“What’s that? You have a fever? Oh, I totally understand. Let’s do it another time!”