Cat's Eye Marketing Blog

Writing Mistakes That Make You Look Stupid: 5 Things Your Teacher Was Right About

Recently I read an article on writing that encouraged bloggers to forget everything about writing they learned in school.

Yeah, sometimes English teachers can overload you with reading books by dead white authors.

It's not exactly the way to get the hang of writing to inform, engage and entertain. You know, like the good bloggers and content marketers do?

I believe in breaking the rules—when it makes sense and doesn't make you look stupid.

Take my blog post title. You are never supposed to end a sentence with a preposition like "of" or "about," right? The right way to write that title would be:

5 Things About Which Your Teacher Was Right.

Now read that aloud. It's silly, clunky and downright stupid sounding. So don't write it that way. Go ahead. Break the rule.

But there are other rules you shouldn't break. Because when you do, your readers lose faith in you. Your silly mistakes make them stop reading. Or they just get so distracted about the wrong word choice that it's all they can see, in a blinking-stoplight-at-an-intersection kind of way.

 

5 things your teacher was right about

1. Use exclamation points sparingly. You've seen it before. A piece of marketing copy that screams at you:

Sign up now! Don't wait! Time is running out! Get your online marketing ebook for just $19.99! It'll give you everything you need to know to start your own online business! Offer good until December 31, 2009! Click here to order!

Okay, the exclamation point test. Read the above paragraph aloud. For every sentence that has an exclamation point at the end, read with the proper emotion. That would be with extreme excitement. Go ahead. I'll wait.

Does it sound a little silly? Of course it does. I don't use exclamation points a lot. When I do, it's to scream.

2. Use apostrophes in the right way. This one gets me going. A lot. Someone will write:

The movie had it's moments, but, mostly, it was boring.

Okay, test time. Every time you use an apostrophe, say the sentence using the two separate words instead (in this case, "it is" instead of "it's). If it still makes sense, you've used the apostrophe correctly. If it doesn't make sense, lose that apostrophe. In the above sentence, it would read:

The movie had it is moments, but, mostly, it was boring.

The writer should have used "its" instead of "it's."

3. Dump the clichés. I wrote one post on clichés and then another, so I won't go on and on here. Just know that words like "killer" and "awesome" and "rock star" make you sound like every other writer out there. Find your unique voice and use it.

4. Avoid 'throat clearing.' I love this term. I heard it first from Chris Brogan. One of the rules in the classic book on writing by Strunk and White says it a little differently: "Omit needless words." Whatever you want to call it, it means getting the scissors out and cutting anything that doesn't add meaning or value to your sentence. Take the first sentence of this memo: 

It has come to my attention that we are having a problem with some of our staff who are arriving late and leaving early. 

The writer doesn't need the first seven words. Because if it hadn't come to her attention, how could she be writing about it? So, removing those and other needless words, you have: 

Some staff are arriving late and leaving early. 

Then go on to explain how that is hurting the company and what should be done about it. 

5. Adverbs are not your friends. This one comes from the great Stephen King in his book On Writing. He goes so far as to say, "The road to hell is paved with adverbs." Use a strong verb instead. It's much more powerful. Take the sentence:

He closed the door firmly.

Is the word "firmly" really necessary? Why not say instead: 

He slammed the door.

 It's okay to use adverbs. Just be careful, so when you do use one, it makes your sentence stand out. Mostly though, you should just avoid them. 

Do you see writing mistakes that make you cringe? Care to share them? 

The Cat from Cat's Eye: In Memory of the Nuz

No blog post has been harder to write than this one. But I have my kleenex close by. So here goes.

 A pet is hard to lose.

 A pet that showed up at a special time in your life is very hard to lose.

 We called him the Great White Cat. His name was Nuz.

He would have been mortified if he knew that it was short for Nuzzle. We named him that because he would stand on his hind legs like a pony and give us strong head butts until we thought he was going to knock us over.

 Extreme nuzzles.

 

How Nuz found us

Some of you have heard the story. Bear with me because I need to tell it one last time.

It was April 1993 in Ocean Shores, Washington. Bob and I were giddy with excitement. We had spent hours and hours thinking of a name for the graphic design business we had just created.

We had scribbled dozens of ideas on post-it-notes and pressed them on the white board. The notes stuck, but none of the names did.

Until Bob turned to me and said, "Cat's Eye."

The cat's eye conjured up the ability to focus, attention to detail, curiosity about new things—everything that would make a design company sharp.

It was decided. Cat's Eye it would be.

Just hours later, in the midst of a wild spring storm, through the sound of the wind and pelting rain, I heard a faint cry. I opened the patio door and there was a tiny, frail, soaking wet, white kitten, shaking violently.

I brought him inside, dried him off and turned him around. It was then that I saw the cat's eyes. One was green and the other blue. It was a sign. 

He was all kinds of sick. Fleas. Worms. And an upper respiratory infection that left him on IVs for two days.

But he was spunky and he survived.

Quirky Nuz

He was quirky, this cat. It was as if he had searched for us because he knew he would fit right in.

He was several animals in one and could take on the personality of each. Kind of like a writer does.

Early on, when he jumped up on our bed, we learned that if we threw a small object, say a wrapped cough drop, he would fly through the air, catch it in his mouth, trot back up to us and drop it. Then came the stare that meant, "Throw it again. Please throw it again."

He learned the command, "In position!" and when one of us would say it, he would scramble to the end of the bed and sit up, at attention, waiting for us to throw it again.  

He could fetch. He was a dog.

Sometimes he would jump up on the bed in the middle of the night and we would hear a plop. It was Pépe, his furry purple hand puppet. He had carried him in with his mouth, fully expecting us to play.

Other times he would scale our stone fireplace that went from floor to ceiling—without the harness a climber uses. He was a mountain goat.

He climbed to the top of our Christmas tree one year and knocked it over. Okay he was just being himself that time. Bad cat.

For a few months, our daughter's cat Alex stayed with us. Not exactly the perfect role model, he showed Nuz how to pull food from the cupboards and refrigerator. 

One day after Alex was gone, we came home to a mess. Nuz had climbed up onto the kitchen counter, opened the cupboard and dragged an opened bag of potato chips onto the floor. Bad cat.

He loved cantaloupe and corn and Pudding Pops. Yes, he was a little weird.

He had great taste in music. We moved three times with him and the only thing that would calm him down in the car were the sounds of James Taylor, BB King or Pavarotti.

 

Business partner Nuz

He was the Cat's Eye mascot from day one and took on the role with class.

He was in our print ads. In one, he was sprawled out on the carpet on his side. The ad's headline said, "Relax. Cat's Eye will take care of it."

He was fascinated by the fax machine and waited by it, as if he was our assistant, watching the paper until it finally came through on the other side. Never could quite teach him to bring us the fax, though. Sometimes he got tired of watching and would fall asleep.

The press loved him. In 2000, when Cat's Eye won the Best in the Northwest Family Business of the Year award, his photo was on the big screen as the master of ceremonies told the story of our name, and of Nuz. A day later, he was in The Puget Sound Business Journal.

He was unimpressed.

 

The day that was different

Monday, November 2, was a typical day. Except, come to think of it, for a week or so, Nuz had been spending more time on our bed at night. More than he usually did.

That night, he left for his own soft bed in the living room at 10.

At 2:30 Tuesday morning, a strange crinkling noise woke me up. I turned on the light and there was Nuz, pawing at the cover of the New Yorker magazine I had left on the floor.

He didn't look right. I pulled him onto the bed. He couldn't stand up. His eyes were dark.

I wrapped him in the soft UW Huskies blanket he loved and called the vet hospital. Our problem:  the first ferry from the island to the mainland didn't leave until 6:30.

When I described the symptoms, the woman on the other end of the phone, said,

"Wrap him in a blanket. Turn the lights down low and hold him."

I did. He died in my arms at 4:45am, Tuesday, November 3.

He wasn't destined to catch the 6:30 ferry.

I like to think that he managed to somehow make it to our bedroom that night because he wanted to tell us that he was leaving us. And because he did that, I got to spend his last two hours with him.

He was a good cat.

Rest in peace, sweet Nuz.

 1993 - 2009. 

What Connects Us in Social Media: On Puppets, Davenports and Other Stuff

I had a strange memory return today.

On twitter (you know that micro-blogging thing where everyone talks at once?), a writer friend I follow, @copylicious, was having a bad day.

You see, the Bay Bridge from San Francisco to Oakland was closed. So she couldn't get home.

And the only word was that they would be sending "updates on when people might get the next update."

And, on top of it, it was her birthday!

And she had not one, but four writing deadlines staring her in the face.

So you see, she really was having a bad day, when she blurted (tweeted):

"Why don't they allow puppets in high-level meetings?"

Well, that started people talking.

"Yeah, why don't they allow puppets, anyway?" said @wildheartqueen.

"Did somebody say a meeting with puppets?" said @starshyne, "Sign me up!"

And so it started. Our puppet stories. Now, with twitter names like @copylicious, @wildheartqueen, @starshyne, and @CatsEyeWriter (that's me), you'd kind of expect it, right?

 

But wait. Why don't they allow puppets in high-level meetings?

My puppet story was begging to be told. So I told it. On twitter. The condensed story, that is.

Here's the slightly longer version:

Several years ago I was manager of writing resources for an international nonprofit that had 5,000+ life-saving relief and development projects in 126 countries around the world. Projects to bring clean water to villages. Health care. Agricultural tools. Schools and classrooms.

I worked from the headquarters in L.A.

It was a high-stress job. Tense deadlines. 14-hour days. I traveled to West Africa to film a documentary and got malaria. Survived 130-degree days and a sandstorm in a village chief's hut in the Sahara Desert.

When I returned, I was a changed person. And exhausted. And really needing a "normal" job again.

Of course, I was afraid to tell my boss, especially after having just returned from this month-long trip, which was my class in International Development 101.

Then I remembered. Bob and I had just been to a silly small-town carnival, where he won an adorable purple furry hand puppet for tossing a ring that landed on milk bottle lid. You know that carnival game. The one it's almost impossible to win? Oh, wait. Every game at a carnival is impossible to win.

We named him Pépe.

I didn't have the nerve to quit my job just like that. But I had a feeling I could get Pépe to do it for me.

We went to a restaurant by the Santa Anita racetrack called The Brown Derby. Just the three of us. Me, my boss Dori and Pépe, who I kept in my purse through lunch. After the meal, when the coffee had arrived, I pulled him out and he managed to say, in a high-pitched, squeaky voice, "I'm so sorry but I think it's time to leave this job."

Moment of silence. Okay, huge moment of silence.

Then Dori burst out laughing.

Pépe had broken the tension so we could have a conversation. I talked about how honored I was to have been selected from more than 200 applicants for the job. How much I had learned about myself and the world. How I would love to stay involved as a consultant (which ended up happening).

We connected, even though I had just quit my job.

 

How social media connects us

Yesterday on twitter, I found a way to connect. Over puppets. Again.

I found like-minded people who also loved puppets and weren't afraid to use them. Other weird people. Like me.

Plus, I recently connected with another twitter friend. The uber-talented and very cool @sparkyfirepants. He's a designer and illustrator who lives in the mountains of Oregon and raises alpacas.

I wrote an article for Biznik called FAQ Page Lessons from the Encyclopedia Man. It was all about overcoming objections in the Q & As on your website's FAQ page, so you can move prospects farther along the path to purchase.

@sparkyfirepants read the article and sent this message (publicly) to me on twitter:

@CatsEyeWriter: Enjoying your article. One of my favorite words is "davenport."

I had started my article with a scene from my childhood, where the door-to-door salesman was trying his best to sell my mom a new set of Encyclopedia Britannicas. I used the word "davenport" because that's what we called our couch.

I explained that to @sparkyfirepants (Don't you just love his name?).

He tweeted back:

@CatsEyeWriter: No, really, I love it. I have a story to tell you when we meet sometime. A funny davenport story.

 Another connection.

Now, mind you, I've known Sparky Firepants (real name, David Billings) for almost two years, but we've never met in person.

But I feel like I know him. We can talk about business, family and weird words like "davenport." How cool is that?

So much is written today about being authentic. Don't hide your uniqueness. Don't be afraid to show the real you.

But if the real you is someone who likes to make puppets talk, is that okay?

If you like to form bonds and connections with people by making them laugh, is that okay?

Once we started talking about puppets on Twitter, there was a separation. The people who definitely believe in puppets and story and magic. And the people who think it's a little weird.

We puppet people actually attracted each other.

What do you think? Do you attract people like you—on your blog, on Twitter, on LinkedIn? And if so, is that a good thing or a bad thing?

How has social media connected you with others? Do you sometimes connect over things that have nothing to do with business. 

Would love to hear your thoughts in the comments section.

 

 

Who Are You, Anyway?: Showing Up Online

It's been a strange week. I'm in day 10 of the crappy upper respiratory stuff.

Type. Cough. Sniffle. Repeat.

I'm keeping my water glass to myself and trying not to breathe on Bob. In fact, it would be better if I just didn't breathe at all, his eyes are saying.

And why is everyone talking about website bios all of a sudden?

This week had a weird synchronicity to it. People have been talking about website bios and social media profiles. In phone calls. On Twitter. On forums. In emails.

Everywhere. 

For a minute, I thought they'd all gone crazy. Then I put it together.

It's what I've been working on all week for clients. Fun, memorable bios. About Us pages. Social media profiles.

Bios are on my brain. So of course I'm paying attention more.

You know, like when you buy a new car and all of a sudden you see all the other ones on the road just like it? They were always there, but you just noticed them.

Showing up online: part II

This past week, I had lots of smart questions from people struggling to create their bios, to boil down the essence of who they are in a short paragraph or two—in a way that is consistent and that attracts the people they want to work with.

Here are some starter tips:

1. Align your profile and website bio with your brand.

Your website gives people a good idea of who you are (or it should). But if the bio on your website, the one on your blog and the one on Facebook sound like you are talking about three different people, I'd say you have a problem. Unless you have multiple personality disorder. Then, of course, it would make perfect sense.

Connect your profile with your brand. If you are playful, and your website copy reflects that, so should your profile. Got a quirky sense of humor? Go with it. Someone tweeted a line from my website bio on Twitter yesterday: She said, "@CatsEyeWriter's website bio says she can juggle, has been to Timbuktu and can say, 'Four knives will be sufficient' in Swahili. I LOVE THIS!"

Everything I said was true. And, yes, a little quirky. Just like me.

Just be sure you show yourself in a real and consistent way—across all platforms.

2. Tell what you do best—and for whom.

When I am browsing through Twitter profiles and bios or visiting someone's About Us page on their website, I am attracted to the ones that deliver their messages with style and originality.

One of my Twitter friends, Havi Brooks, says it this way on her website's About Havi page: 

My duck and I (okay, the duck is a little weird and that could be a blog post all by itself) help bright, creative kooky people (who she does it for) destuckify their stuff so they can do their thing (what she does best).

She goes on to say:

So they can work through all the overwhelming, sometimes-terrifying goo that gets in the way of doing what they love and biggifying it like crazy.

When I read this, I know right away. Either I am her target market or I am not.

3. Leave the cardboard person at the doorstep.

I saw a small business networking site recently that warned its members to only enter "basic business information" into their profile. They said, "It's not about you personally. It's a business profile.

I couldn't disagree more, particularly if you are a small biz owner. People who are deciding whether to interact with you are looking for someone real.

Asking yourself a few of these questions will help you uncover—and show—the real, multi-dimensional you:

1. What three things do you believe most about people?

2. What is the one thing you've done in your life that you are most proud of?

3. What's the one thing you haven't done yet that you want to do before you die?

4. What three adjectives best describe you?

5. Which movie or TV character are you most like and why?

6. What's your favorite food or beverage?

7. Name the two things that bug you the most when they happen.

Use phrases from these answers to make a list. From that list, mix and match until you come up with the whole person that best describes you.

On Twitter, it's a challenge to do that in just 160 characters, but that's part of the fun. And it's the very process that gets you to the core of who you are.

My Twitter profile says:

Slightly neurotic copywriter. Loves strong verbs, creating unique online identities, oaky Merlot & John Cleese. Thinks the word cree-A-tive is overused.

4. Act online in ways that match your profile.

People are getting to know and, hopefully, trust you, so your online behavior and the copy in your bio should not clash. Who you are should not change. Whether you write an article for a social networking site like Biznik, create a new blog post or make a comment on Twitter, stay true to yourself.

5. Play with the content as you change and grow.

You aren't going to be the same person you are today. None of us are. Hey, next year you might climb Mt. Everest. Or write a book. Or become a goalie on a women's indoor soccer team (which one of my clients did) You might join the hole-in-one club. Or master conversational French.

Profiles are easy to edit. Be sure to do that regularly so when things change, your customers, prospects and colleagues can keep up with all the cool things you are doing.

What does your profile say about you?

You'll laugh. You'll cry. You'll buy stuff.: 5 Strategies for 'emotion-based marketing'

There's a big fat war raging. We've always been told that people buy based on emotions, but need to justify their purchase with logic.

They satisfy the heart before the head kicks in to tell them they've made the right choice because…blah, blah blah (insert boring reasons here).

But, the thing is, two nights ago I was in a fun audience (how many educational events do you go to where you get to sit in the auditorium and sip on wine as the presenter goes through his PowerPoint show?).

Anyway, this semi-famous marketing expert from the cold white north (Canada) was talking about social media as a marketing tool for businesses when he turned around and said:

"Of course you would never use emotions in B2B (business-to-business) marketing."

Kind of caught me off guard.

 B2B, B2C, Aren't They All Just People?

We forget that business-to-business and business-to-consumer have something quite obvious in common.

Consumers are people who buy stuff.

Businesses are run by people who buy stuff.

So why treat B2B marketing any differently?

My 5 strategies for emotion-based marketing

Inside that business owner in the stuffy shirt is a real person. She laughs. She cries. She likes songs and movies because they make her feel. She has a heart and a head. And when her emotions are touched, she tends to remember the message more.

Here are some ways to reach her:

 1.    Tell her stories. 

You can do a lot with the right story, one that appeals to the senses, one that shows your personality and voice, and paints a picture.

 2.    Use analogies. 

People love an analogy because they "get it" right away. And because they are visual, analogies touch a deep, emotional part of the brain. We explained why we dumped our brand new business by comparing the needy "baby" to our jealous 16-year-old, Cat's Eye Marketing. Use this powerful tool when you can. 

3.    Make him laugh. 

John Cleese, one of my heroes, said it perfectly: "If I can get you to laugh with me, you like me better, which makes you more open to my ideas." I'm not talking cruel or sarcastic humor here, or just telling jokes. I mean the kind of humor that makes us all see that we are a lot alike. The kind that brings us together.

4.    Scare her (in a nice way). 

Don't underestimate the fear factor. We all have fears of losing something or someone. Of not doing something right. Of losing our best clients. Of our business failing because we made the wrong decision, went with the wrong vendor, spent too much money on a solution that didn't work. Find a way to identify that fear, then walk your client to the solution which, of course, is your product or service.

5.    Satisfy other emotional 'cravings.' 

There are tons of these. It takes a little time and skill to hit on the one your customer may be feeling, but it's worth it. Put yourself in their shoes, find the right emotional craving, then satisfy it. 

What about you? Do you think emotions should be used in B2B marketing? Do you ever market to people's emotions? 

Get Off the Hamster Wheel: 5 Ways to Avoid Social Media Overload

We're maxed out—all of us. We were tired before social media came tripping into our lives.

And the worst part? The guilt. We are made to feel that we're not a serious business if we don't participate in the "community."

That we'll be missing the conversation if we don't hang out online.

Of course, you need to find time to actually run your business, too. Developing project bids, meeting with prospective clients, balancing the books, returning phone calls and emails.

Oh, and fit the family in there somewhere, would you? And sleep. Guess you'd better find time for that.

I subscribe to the blog of Chris Brogan, one of today's bright minds in social media. What completely blew me away last week was his post The Shape of My Game.

He walked his readers through a normal day, practically minute-by-minute. Now granted, this is not your typical small biz owner, but it struck me how much successful people have to do just to keep up the pace.

 5 Ways to Avoid Social Media Overload

 Whether you are just starting down the social media path or consider yourself a pro, it's easy to get sucked in and pretty soon you are letting the social web rule you instead of the other way around. Here are five tips for taming the SM beast:

1. Choose a couple of platforms and focus on them. You don't have to be everywhere. Besides, it's better to produce good stuff on two sites than scattered, unfocused messaging on six. It's ideal if one is your very own (your blog or your e-newsletter) and one is an external platform. I blog, write an e-letter and participate regularly on Twitter and Biznik. Two should work fine for you, though. Or even one.

2. Decide what your goal is and stay with it. This makes a huge difference. If you don't know where you want to go, you'll never get there. For my blog, my goal is to cross-promote my e-tips and increase the number of people who see me as an expert in my field. For Twitter, it's searching out opportunities to collaborate and cross-promote with other marketers.

3. Schedule your social media time like you do other things. If you are distracted by bright, shiny objects (like that "Mentions" column on Tweetdeck that tells you every time someone is talking about you!), turn off the noise. One of my friends turns Twitter on twice a day, for 10 minutes. That keeps her in touch, but not tied to it.

4. Save sacred time for the work your business needs you for. This is the tough one. Days can be fragmented with blogging, emails, and social networking sites. I've seen people have great success by blocking out two uninterrupted hours first thing each morning for the day's priority projects. It's especially important if you need to work up momentum and then have focused time to think through a project. The key here, of course, is to turn off the phones and those irritating email pings.

5. Give yourself some 'play time.' Reward yourself with short breaks, even a walk around the block. If you are a creative like me, play is essential to your self-nurturing—and your ability to produce new ideas. I keep my juggling balls handy. My watercolor set. My paddle ball (remember those board thingies with the rubber string and little red ball?). My kaleidoscope. 10 minutes with any of those and I'm good to go for another hour.

If you are feeling social media burnout (and we all do from time to time), try a couple of these ideas. And let me know if they help. 

Good Stuff You Might Have Missed: Friday Customer Relationship Gems

Sometimes, there is so much stuff out there that good things slip right by us.

I've been blogging once a week for almost two years now. I also write a weekly marketing e-tip. Content overlaps every once in a while, but not much.

What I believe

I believe in giving stuff away, lots of stuff. I believe that trust comes with generosity.

And I don't like hidden agendas.

They say:

"Subscribe to my cool, very helpful newsletter."

They mean: "I'm going to sell you as much stuff as I can in it."

They say: "Want short, useful tips you can read in 5 minutes or less?"

They mean: "If you are a speed reader, you can read my newsletter in 5 minutes. The tip is at the very end, after all the invitations to buy my e-books and attend my paid events."

Really, I don't like hidden agendas.

My Friday gift for you. Actually, 5 Friday gifts

Here . Some free stuff on customer relationship marketing. In case you can't afford those expensive CRM programs or that $200 dollar an hour-consultant.

Now these don't substitute for in-depth consulting, but they are things you can do—practical things—to improve your marketing and your relationship \with your prospect and customers, right now.

If you find this helpful, you can always sign up for my free (and "hype"-free) Marketing Hotspots, delivered to your in-box every Tuesday.

If you don't want to subscribe, that's cool, too. But accept these gifts anyway (if you'd like):

Multi-Sensory Marketing: A Tale of Three Little Customers- Did you know that your customers respond to your marketing and advertising messages based on how they best process information: visual, auditory or tactile? Find out how to use the right marketing strategy for each of these unique customer groups. 

5 Tips for Following Prospects and Customers without Being a Stalker- Ever been hit with the hard sell moments after exchanging business cards with someone? Eew! Learn how not to be that clueless person. How to keep in touch without being obnoxious.

Cookies, Milk and Scraped Knees: 6 Things Your Customers Wish You Knew- Find out what your customer is really feeling when they are reading your marketing copy. And how to recognize and address them.

Promises, Promises: 5 Ways to Build Customer Trust with E-Marketing- There's  a lot of slimy e-marketers out there. Here's how not to be one of them. How to build the customer trust that leads to sales.

5 Steps to Finding 'Warm' Prospects: Melting the Ice- Chipping ice off the windshield is hard. But of you take some time to warm the car up first…Well, you get the idea. How to warm up your cold prospects.

Okay, that's it. Hope these tips are useful. I write them with you in mind. Every week. Sign up here for a free subscription. But only if you want to. 

One Girl, One Hero: A September 11 Story

I wrote this story last September 11.

September 11, 2008.

Seven years had gone by. Seven years since the day that changed our perception of our world—and our safety in it.

Still, some of my friends had memories too painful, too fresh, to read what I had written.

They sent me emails. One friend was supposed to be on one of the planes and still had grief—and guilt that he was spared.

Another couldn't talk about it, just one line about the Pentagon and black choking smoke.

I wanted to write a story of hope, of good over evil, but some weren't ready yet.

 

A September 11 Story—Retold

It was the day after the day.

September 12, 2001 was a Wednesday. I know because Wednesday was my mentoring day.

I swung into the parking lot of the elementary school not far from Seattle.

My friend was a smart, but troubled 8-year-old. I'll call her Bella. She was in the gifted class.

Bella loved to read. I brought her my old comics, like Little Lulu. She read them out loud and laughed hysterically at the strong, spunky Lulu. We made bracelets out of plastic jewelry and waved our hands at each other to see who could make the loudest clicking sound.

We played board games. Once she tried to teach me chess but she gave up. I could never figure out what move to make and she got tired of waiting. Sometimes Bella would come into the library, sit down and frown, arms crossed, swinging her legs. On those days, she didn't want to talk to anyone, not even me.

On this particular Wednesday, Bella was quiet. She sat down, took out the set of blocks and started building, her tongue sticking out in concentration.

"What are you making?" I said.

"Towers," she said, keeping her eyes on the blocks.

My heart did a flip. She continued adding blocks until she had two blue buildings, side by side. She gently pulled out blocks on each side, about three-quarters from the top of each tower, so there were perfectly square holes on all sides.

Then she did an astounding thing. She lifted a black crayon, holding it with the thumb and forefinger. She made it climb, turn, then slowly push through the empty space, from one side of the tower right through the other side and onto the library table.

"See?" she said.

"If they just would have made the towers this way, with holes in the sides, the plane could have gone right through. And no one would have been hurt. Why didn't they make them that way?"

She frowned.

I swallowed. I didn't have any words.

Bella punched the buildings with her fist. The blocks fell across the table and onto the floor. 

As the weeks went by, in my "Wednesdays with Bella," we talked more about the terrorist attacks. She asked why the firefighters had to go in those burning buildings. She wanted to know if any kids died.

I had to tell her the truth. I felt like she needed to know.

She said she never wanted to go on an airplane again. Then she walked out of the library, down the hall to her classroom.

 

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One Wednesday four and a half months later, Bella and I sat in the library.

"I'm going to New York City for a writer's conference tomorrow," I said. "What would you like me to bring you back?"

I waited, expecting, I don't know what: a t-shirt, maybe.

"I want a picture of a firefighter," she said. She stared at me with huge brown eyes.

"And what I really want is an autograph," she said. She studied my face.

"I'll do my best," I said. "Hey! How about if I bring a picture of you and maybe a short letter, and see if I can find a firefighter to give them to?"

I had no idea if I could do this.

Bella's eyes lit up. She grabbed my pen and wrote:

                                                                                         Jan. 29, 2002

Dear Firefighter,

    Thank you for working hard to clear the ground at ground zero. I think it is very brave that you are doing what you are doing. Thank you.

                                                                                      Your friend,

                                                                                      Bella

 

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I stood in the fierce Manhattan sun, in a line that wound down four blocks and around another two. Just as I got to the fence with its mementos and massive butcher paper wall, with thousands of messages of hope and sorrow scrawled every which way, I saw him.

He wore brown overalls, a blue shirt with an embossed fire department insignia and a navy blue baseball cap with red letters: FDNY. His name was JJ, from Engine 299, Queens.  His eyes widened as I told him about Bella. I handed the letter and photo to him.

"Wow," he said. "Tell her these are going up at the station." He waved the letter and photo. 

"She wants your autograph," I said.

"Are you kidding?" 

No, I said, it's the one thing she wants me to bring back from New York.

He took the paper from me and wrote,

Dear Bella,

Thank you for being so kind and thoughtful.

 

                                    Your Friend,

                                   J.J. Kerns

Then he reached behind the fence and pulled out an FDNY hat. "Give this to Bella," he said. "Tell her it's from me."

He held up Bella's letter and I took a photo of him.

 

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The next Wednesday, Bella was sitting on a chair in the library waiting for me.

"I brought you something from my trip," I said.

I handed her J.J.'s photo and note, which I had framed. Her eyes got big.

"Cool!" she said, jumping out of her seat as if I had just brought her the biggest, softest teddy bear from FAO Schwartz.

I reached into my bag and pulled out the FDNY cap. Her face sagged. She grabbed the cap and put it on. It made her look goofy, the way it covered her ears and most of her eyes. I helped her adjust the tab in the back.

Bella stood up. "I want to go back to my class now, " she said.

 She pushed the bill of the cap down and peered out at me.

I smiled. "Sure." 

I watched her skip down the hall, pumping her arm in the air. 

One horrific day. And four and a half months and 3,000 miles later, a genuine, heartfelt connection between an eight-year-old girl and her hero.

It's the one good memory I have from September 11. 

 

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We have had eight September 11's since that gut-wrenching day.

Bella is now a high school junior. She doesn't need a mentor anymore. She's bright, achieving, just starting to think about the rest of her life.

As we never forget September 11, as we think about the sacrifices that were made for us, let's also think about the kids who, if only for a season, replaced Britney Spears and the Backstreet Boys with bigger heroes, like New York's firefighters.

 

What about you? Do you have a story of hope, something good that came out of September 11?