Friday, August 3, 2018

Stop! In the Name of Love...

the dog days are upon us...New York has been under a soupy sky...humidity rising every day...and I am looking like the long lost Supreme...Diana's distant middle-aged cousin with the Jew-fro, Sherri Supreme...there is no product strong enough these days...so it's the ponytail, with curls escaping, then frizzing...or just letting it go...I keep thinking back to the endless winter...the torturous cold spells...the spring that wasn't...and I feel I shouldn't kvetch...but then I find myself longing for those three or four days of crystal blue skies and no humidity...hell, my hair could have made like page 65 of Vogue then...but it is not to be...the thunderstorm symbol dots endless days in the forecast...I glimpse the sun symbol in the distance...and hope it remains...last night a tornado warning flashed on my cell...I did a double take and turned the TV on...and there was Lee Goldberg and his white teeth showing some shitty red cell of torture floating over parts of the tri-state...I scratched my frizzy head and thought...where's that Glinda bitch when you need her...ugh...baby, baby, baby...where did the sun go???

Monday, July 16, 2018

Mamma Mia, here I go...

a few weeks ago my daughter, Lauren, got engaged...it wasn't what you would say a total shock...I'd known her fiance had the ring for a few weeks...and when she crossed the threshold of our apartment, and held up her hand...my stomach flipped...but just a little, as if the reality of it all had not been fully absorbed...about a week later, Mike and I were off for a long-planned vacation to celebrate our upcoming (November) 30th...timing...resting up before the roller coaster ride of planning...of doing your best to gently blend two families...to not offend although it is a given that someone will get pissed...and I thought back to my own wedding planning...and how I thought I knew it all...I looked at old wedding albums...a miniature of my mother's...my own...scrutinizing pictures of my mom and grandmother...mothers of the bride...and I realized that I am older now than any of them were then...deep pause...when I came back from the vacation, and even while away...I attempted sleep while lists of people danced in my brain...a daunting to do list...how much would I or should I do without morphing into a Momzilla?!?!…and I'll admit that it really did hit me as Mike and I pulled out of the catering hall parking lot, ink still fresh on the contract...my eyes welling up on the Meadowbrook...the planning, the agita, the joy will be here and pass so quickly...as it always does...I hope I can savor more than I might have as a bride...maybe the passage of time gives deeper appreciation of the gift of pure joy...I sigh...pass up on the cookie...dress shopping in the distance...hideous three-way mirrors...Lord, have mercy...and bless them...

Monday, June 18, 2018

whole lotta love...

the summer solstice is almost upon us...we are in the twilight of spring...a season ripe with celebrating earth...and our mothers...our fathers...and often the memory thereof...of the hopeful new beginnings of June weddings...joyful endings with graduations...and the outdoor concert season...there I found myself praying to the weather gods two nights last week...praying for dry weather so I would not schvitz under a cheap rain poncho...and the weather gods listened...I will talk about the two concerts in reverse...Dead & Company at Citi Field on Friday...this my first time seeing this incarnation of the infamous Grateful Dead, a band that played in the background my life essentially...I vividly remember many fellow students in the spring of '79 at Binghamton who did see them...the concert where someone tripping on acid, most likely, fell over the rail and later died...the story becoming more discussed than the setlist...flash forward to last Friday, a gorgeous night in Queens...and I tried embracing the experience of songs that had no beginning, or end...some I knew, some I didn't...I enjoyed the first set...found the jams of the second too long, too indulgent...musical masturbation...yeah, maybe I'm not a Deadhead...last Wednesday...Forest Hills Stadium...Robert Plant...oh, Lord, this was the bucket list item I waited a long time for...I admire him as an artist...pushing the envelope...trying new partnerships...new musicians...for many it is a disappointment that he refuses to reunite with Page and Jones and head out for that longed for Led Zeppelin reunion...but I get it...and he does too...he heard the faithful and sprinkled in old Zeppelin tunes...so that the gray roots, receding hairlines, extra pounds and aching bones we all shared Wednesday night faded away...in the encore, with that first note of "Whole Lotta Love" I swore I saw a rock god...lustrous golden curls, vest and bell bottoms...wailing against time in its infinite cruelty...oh, Mr. Plant...ramble on any time you want...

Thursday, May 31, 2018

twit or tweet

I first thought of titling this blog entry, we will have grace...haha...but in this world of immediacy...we are in twitter hell...I really think that everyone should be forced to write a tweet...pen and paper...let it sit for an hour...then read it and wonder if it's still that little gem you think you've crafted...ah, Roseanne...the woman...the show...but here's a somewhat relevant aside about the need to "reboot" every show that met the dust, yet somehow, we yearn for once more...the world...our world changes faster than our own perceptions grasp...what was daring and dear to us over twenty years ago does not necessarily "fit" moving forward...Roseanne, the show, the writing...in its original incarnation was at times brilliant and revelatory...and at times, lazy...I watched some of the reboot...in terms of writing, it seemed more the latter...Roseanne, the woman...her show ended its first run in 1997...think back...there were no IPhones, no Facebook, Twitter, Instagram...just the chance of winding up in a gossip column with overheard conversation...or a public misstep on a late night show...or for Roseanne, just a horrific clip of a mocking rendition of the National Anthem...ah...how would that play now in our incendiary culture?...but here's the basic truth...the first discussion show be about the tweet in and of itself...not to compare it to rogue and ruthless tweets, or on-air conversations of others...because if we can't agree on the ugliness of the first, we will never get to the table to discuss the second...until that time, I hope for the grace that an open heart can give...and for a serious pause before we all race off that ledge...

Saturday, May 5, 2018

whoa, ah, mercy, mercy me....

oh, things ain't what they used to be...how sad that Marvin Gaye's lyrics still stand so many decades later...but for me, when I hear that song, it is not the sadness and dismay of pollution rotting Mother Earth that I hear...it is the ocean waters of Brooklyn...it is the cry of vendors, "get your knishes here...ice cream here...coca cola"...it is the cry of mothers warning their kids not to wade too deep...it's the songs blasting from transistor radios...and I smell Coppertone, and sand and sea...I cannot tell you why...but it is good...it is more than good to go back to that time and space...where for a few brief hours the world and it's violence were buried in a sand castle...my worries thinking about that first day of middle school a few short weeks away swept out in the waters off Coney Island...and so, last week...turning up the A/C as we slipped from winter to summer in a spring minute...Marvin came on the radio...and I smiled...and turned it loud...and forgot about every news story...twitter feed...and a daunting and boring to do list...I cranked that song up and I was eleven again...burying my brother in the sand...giggling and freckling and not giving a shit about any of it...still tasting that chocolate fudgesicle in the corners of my lips...no worries about what it would do to my hips...there is magic in the music...ah, mercy, mercy me...sometimes memories are just what you used to be...

Thursday, April 12, 2018

whoever saves one life saves the world entire....

Yom HaShoah...in April, sandwiched between days of wet snow and trees aching to bloom...this day begs remembrance...the time of oratory from survivors at libraries, community centers, school and temples is dwindling...the survivors aging out of a world so violent it begs their testimony...and Jews...our assimilation complete in so many ways...and then, once again, we are targeted, scapegoated...often enabled by complacency and reluctance...sin of omission or commission?...the irony that our children now study  abroad in cities where so many of our people were rounded up like cattle...their memory crushed under the wheels of putrid train cars teeming with our brothers and sisters...it is so much easier to forget...the pain of history is often soul crushing...for me it is not a choice...an option...it is a necessary mitzvah...for people I did not know...relatives reduced to a Yahrzeit candle...to affirm that the Holocaust is not just a paragraph skimmed in a text book...to memorize for question #42 on some ridiculous standardized test...it is a chapter from the dark history of my people...of all people...for the sorrow...the guilt...for looking at the ugliness that is man...we remember...for what was lost...we remember...but mostly, as Anne Frank said so eloquently, "look at how a single candle can both defy and define the darkness"...

Tuesday, March 13, 2018

Tee (time) for the Tillerson

I am exhausted...we are approaching 14 months of this presidency and I have lost track...who's on first?...the latest casualty in the White House revolving door...the dinosaur, T-Rex...and then we all smack ourselves lamenting the firing of an oil executive...to be replaced with Pompeo...not Ellen Pompeo, of "Grey's Anatomy" fame...no, Mike Pompeo, of CIA fame...if that is anything worthy of fame these days...I mean, I hear CIA...and I'm thinking of my pals on "Homeland"...Mandy Patinkin and Claire Danes...and I'm getting wrinkles as my face contorts following the newest season...because "Homeland" always seems to be one step ahead of the curve...and if it is, and you don't watch it...well, don't watch it...it is all too real, and you'll never stop throwing up!...and I am jumping all over the place...but I am just following the lead from 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue...because the hiring, the firing...the tweeting..this is really elevating distraction to an art form, isn't it?...something to think about jumping the snow piles for green beer this weekend...but someone please tell Pompeo not to unpack so quickly...he's gonna need more than the luck of the Irish!...