"i ain't down yet"....

2016 was a shit storm...sorry, but true...and i'm closing my eyes till midnight tomorrow...afraid another ap bulletin will scroll across the bottom of the tv...or another facebook or twitter post will flash a face...another gone...my youth and memories vanishing in quicksand...yes, there is perspective...these are not my family...or friends...but now it seems so many are my contemporaries...and that is enough for pause...and so the escape to the movies...start cramming them in before the oscar noms...oh, for how many years, before the immediacy of social media, did i sit by the tv...pen and paper...scribbling the names of nominees...strategizing which movies i needed to see...this was when the golden globes were still buried on tbs on saturday night(and still should be)...before the sag awards were a thing...oscar was it...on a monday in april...then march...then sunday in february...and so it's value has diminished...as so much has...and some of the movies this year are very good...but painfully sad..."jackie"...a bottle of vodka..."manchester"...two bottles of jack..."moonlight"...a few shots of tequila...ah, but "la la land"...maybe not perfect...but in the last days of the shit storm...before it was george and that beautiful voice...then debbie's daughter, and carrie's mom...i sat mesmerized...the colors and music washing over me...damien chazelle's vision was my sweetest memory of mgm classics..of gene kelly...fred astaire...ginger rogers...leslie caron...and yes, america's sweetheart, debbie reynolds...of dreamers...romance...what we lose along the way...and for that alone i was grateful...and it reminded me of the solace and saving grace of the arts...and so it would seem it is up to the artists...writers...musicians...and dreamers...to pull us across this finish line...leave 2016 in the dust...i'm checking out of this heartbreak hotel, carrie...i ain't down yet, debbie...'cause i gotta have faith, george...wishing for a peaceful 2017!

"One for each night, they shed a sweet light..."

and so it is almost Chanukah...and Christmas...and also thankfully, the end of 2016...when I look back at this year i can't think of a more appropriate song than that old temptations classic, "ball of confusion"...there is no peaceful corner of our globe...the "dead montages" in music, film, theater, and sports are staggering...our weather is more violent...there is little escape from the barrage of hate on social media...and i still haven't seen "hamilton"...and yet...so many are racing in preparation of holidays this weekend...baking and wrapping and hugging through the random cruelness of twenty-first century life...and all are anticipating 2017...what will it bring to this world...and to our loved ones...and many seriously wonder whether one person can change this world...well then. ..say a prayer when you light your menorah...or attend mass...or in the quiet moments early in the morning...whisper a prayer for someone who cannot...and then maybe promise one act of random kindness this new year...pay it forward even in the face of despair...spread joy even in the absence of hope as we cross this year's finish line and welcome 2017...

november rain

it could be snow...such is the rationale i use while additionally wishing my car was a boat...november's monthly average rain in two days...hypnotized by the wipers at red lights, my mind wanders...and i become increasingly depressed realizing we are one month from the end of another year...how many resolutions and plans can you squeeze into 31 days?...maybe easier to carry them forward...swish swish swish...do i have clothes at the cleaners?...swish swish swish...passing fairway...swish swish swish...what the hell should i make for dinner?...swish swish swish...what were those resolutions made in january?...was i serious or trying to hold back time?...ah, this rain...as sad as chapin's "taxi" playing on the radio...almost home...think i'll grab the afghan, a cup of chamomile and close my eyes...daydream...a sunny may afternoon...petty's "running down a dream" blasting...resolutions beckoning in a blue endless sky...

suffragette city...

i suppose reading this you might find it strange...blogging before the outcome of the election...but you see for me it's the bigger picture...or smaller...we stand in line today as a nation divided...it is ugly...it may get uglier in days to come...possible recounts...maybe a gore vs. bush nightmare again...but that is not the real issue...the real issue is where do we go from here as a nation...so many are amazed that we are at this point...vitriol...mob mentality...and it stirs something very unsettling within me...maybe it's after seeing "denial" a few days ago...or turning away from continued reports of rising anti-semitism around the globe...and on our campuses...maybe it's because of what campaign rhetoric has brought to the surface...or maybe it's because tomorrow is the anniversary of kristallnacht...and so many people do not even know what that is...and the knot twists when i realize that many future generations may never know what it was and meant because of how easily our histories are rewritten in the age of instant information and blind acceptance...and so now do i need to defend all i am?...isn't it enough that we all see our children the same way...wish for them the same things...it makes me shake...how did we get here again...how do you put out the fire of hatred...i pause...later i will exercise the 19th amendment...but sadly wonder...where is the amendment that will eradicate hate at the core...maybe this...put down the phone...breathe deep...crack a book

it's just a jump to the left...

yes, let's do the time warp today...halloween...one day crammed with so many memories...costumes...parties...and, oh yes, chocolate...but here i am...at a certain point of life...and in between it all...not dressing up or working on a costume for my daughter...in a community with no trick or treaters...and missing it all...well, maybe not cleaning the mailbox november 1st coated in shaving cream, toilet paper, and...ew, sometimes eggs...really missing the chance once a year to be someone else...to reinvent yourself for a fleeting and often hilarious moment...thinking back to my two favorite costumes....scarlett o'hara and morticia addams...yes, a hula hoop and curtains for the first...and even finding a long cigarette holder to complete the second...and also, wistfully remembering walking in the village parade 1981...before it was over-hyped and televised...i think of icy cold halloweens, my nose red at dusk...rainy ones with umbrellas and soaked sneakers trying not to slip on the drenched leaves...and glorious sunny ones, the sun blazing as it set over the last foliage...and i can still hear the sound of candy hitting the table as it was unceremoniously dumped for sorting...being young and wanting it all...being a parent and trying not to sneak it all later that night...but mostly i think of children...the youngest...not jaded...the wonderful costumes...and the pure joy and trepidation as they looked up at me, arms spread wide holding their goody bags...running with glee down my lawn into the darkness of werewolves and vampires and ghosts...and the sweet memory of youth...

look back in anger

i close my eyes...and dream of november 9th...please let this nightmare be over already...make america great again...i'm with her...both slogans offend me...as a writer...really?...this is the best money can buy these days?...but seriously...last night the third and final debate...hallelujah...as i watched the great pumpkin vs. sisterhood of the traveling pantsuits...i began to boil...these are the days of uncivil discourse...style over substance...and the world is watching...and we are watching but not listening...because we are numb...and guilty...because this is not the worst of it...what passes for senators, congressmen, legislators, and yes, now in nassau, county executives is appalling...so few really grasping the meaning and intent of serving their constituents...so go ahead and read the facebook posts ad nauseum...line your wastebaskets with endless campaign mail...mute the tv commercials...as for me, i'm dreaming of peter finch...crazed and ranting..."i'm mad as hell and i'm not going to take this anymore"...i reach for the window latch and pause...cause really, who the hell would listen these days?...

cause i gotta have faith...

it is that time of year again...baseball playoffs in the distance...football stats mounting...and brisket...rosh hashonah...days of awe...yom kippur...hours of atonement...they loom as summer ends...then fly by...but faith is that elusive feeling deep within...and i have to admit that i am green with envy when i see those so sure and steady in their belief...because for me it has always been much like the ocean...ebb and flow...rocky and tranquil...dark, then luminous...and so much emotion tied to memory...and family...and joyous dinners in tight places...and then to all who are gone...no longer at the table...i think ultimately, for me, my faith is not really within temple walls...although there is sweetness in prayer and peace in the silence...for me it is in the writing...and the determination to share memories...feelings...of what came before and where i wish we could be in this lifetime...and so i will grasp that this holy season...take it with me into the new year...wishing everyone reading l'shanah tovah...a sweet and happy new year...and yes, i really do want world peace...

leave it to cleaver...

september in the city...in our city...nyc...which for new yorkers is, and will always be the only city...we now live in the long and painful shadow of 9/11...and so like many people i was perplexed that last sunday the miss america organization chose that night for airing...albeit the talent competition...or lack thereof...was a welcome relief to the sadness that permeates that day every year...the baton twirler should have had flaming batons a la "miss congeniality"...yeah, that would have been fun...but what really opened my eyes was the question and answer segment...20 seconds to answer rather hard-hitting questions from celebrities (a stretch as some of them wouldn't even make the "d" list that "dancing with the stars" scrapes around)...and yet, they weren't awful in their 20 seconds...tanned, teased, taped and starving these young women made me shake my head...multi-million dollar matt lauer should have taken notes...the pretty boys on the left and barbie fox girls on the right also...november looms in the distance and we deserve better...from candidates and pundits and the media and ourselves too...and then there it was...while having dinner with friends thursday the news broke with the story of the man and his meat cleaver...and bedlam a block from penn station...my commuter hell hub as it were...but i didn't flinch this thursday... in the shadow of the lost towers i am numb...i just came up with the hope that police would be all over that hub...and i would get out of dodge...did you see that blur at the city line friday?...nah, it wasn't the road runner...it was bratton...leave it to cleaver...a farewell for bratton...from this beloved city...our big apple with insidious rotting at the core...

summer breeze...

sweet days of summer...the jasmine's in bloom...and the halloween decorations are out...santa will be schvitzing in aisle 13 before you blink...as labor day weekend bears down...and tropical storms with names we cannot, or do not care to pronounce swirl in the atlantic...there is a sadness underneath...one you almost think you brought on yourself...yeah, someone caught you peeking at the burgundy and other tempting earth-toned sweaters spread in display in 90 degree heat...and smelling pumpkin spice scented candles...yeah, you did that...you cheated on summer...the shortest, sweetest, sweatiest season...so much expectation in such a short time...and poof...although we all know warm air will swirl for several more weeks before that first early-morning-where-is-my-freaking-sweater moment...so, push back...hold on to bare feet and tall drinks...early morning coffee on a porch or terrace or outside table...inhale the bliss of emptying bottles of suntan lotion...walk the beach before sunset...hold it all in...all that heat...to melt the blues of booted feet in cold dirty slush on a faded january afternoon

cliff notes for life...

so there we were...the wonderful women of my writers group...on a hot tuesday morning...lamenting the lack of real reading in schools these days...handouts not books...abbreviation over interpretation...and as it were, all things that hold our attention longer than the millisecond it takes to tweet...or post...or snap...time moves faster...our losses multiply...are paraded on social media for impersonal empathy...and then buried deep...i joked that it's almost like cliff notes for life...should we really sweat the small stuff...or even big stuff...when it will be something so easily forgotten in the time it takes to microwave your morning java...but then i had to pause...and the sadness was real...some student this fall will read "the grapes of wrath"...in twenty-five snippets or less...the rapturous beauty of americana swept away like the dust bowl that roared almost a century ago...some school district will put that mad dane "hamlet" on a shelf while drilling common core or other standardized bullshit that no one will remember years from now...not like my memory of the passion and joy passed from my teachers...even during the lean budget years of the seventies in the city..."twas brillig, and the slithy toves. did gyre and gimble in the wabe"...i can still hear the delight in our recitation...close my ears and smell the textbooks...musty...heavy in my hands...ah, life is short enough...burn the cliff notes...bonfire of insanity

What I saw at the revolution...

week two of conventions...i am watching hillary's coronation while visiting dear cousins and my aunt in bernie country...there is a sad poignancy to that..cause probably the only thing mr. trump said months ago that resonated was how the system was rigged against bernie...Americans have torched the system this year...for better or worse...last week I kept thinking about how i wanted a beer at an indians game with kasich...i am not republican and as a woman many of his policies leave me boiling mad...but through the circus of this year there was a decency about how he ran things...as was with bernie...so the best i can do is breathe in the green mountain air...listen to those speeches crafted by a multitude of ghost writers...look for a glimpse of passion and hope from both sides...ivanka on the right...cory on the left...and maybe all of us writing our future in between...

i can't breathe

it's the beginning of july...unofficial first heat wave...lack of deodorant on the subways...no air conditioning in the stations...and i can't breathe...isis is shitting on the world...america is a powder keg about to blow...police shooting civilians...civilians shooting police...in one of the most gun-friendly states...food for thought...but mostly just profound sadness...when i close my eyes...i am a child again...no social media...no immediacy...sanitized news for the most part...the newspaper or walter cronkite...black and white...but the images...the riots...the anger...it remains to this day indelible...and it haunts me these days...and ironically i am craving that black and white set...i don't want a minute by minute update on my phone...i don't want to read the tweets of celebrities who need to crack a book once in a while...and listen to something other than the sound of their own voices...politicians...who need to self-edit and rethink their hiring process...i want the assault on my senses to stop...want to put this country on pause...we are so efficiently doing the job for terrorists...pointing the gun, as it were, at our own heads...maybe this weekend...turn it all off...hug your family and friends...and pray to whatever it is you hold most sacred and holy...pray that you can rise above this...that we can rise above this...so that we can breathe

it's the bitch of living...

i have decided that i should not be afraid of the zika virus...because i have used the women's bathroom at penn station...and i am still breathing...although, i am still trying to shake the image of various homeless women and their life's belongings in carts...and trying to erase the sound of the woman screaming in the booth next to me from my memory chip...although it could have been a lirr commuter rejoicing in the fact that a truck didn't hit a queens overpass at 430pm, that a distracted soccer mom didn't run a crossing at 3pm, and that someone did not feel a track in suffolk was a great place to check out...ah, penn...east side...west side...pee around the town...welcome to new york...de blasio's new york...or as i now refer to it...urinetown...the new york post...i cannot really call it a newspaper...it is really required reading at trump university...however, when they published pictures last week of various people peeing into subway tracks...parks...streets...well, i thought there's hope for you yet...someone needs to blow the lid off this bullshit...because the city council approved easing punishment for public urination...littering...and other "little things"...those little things that impinge on daily quality of life...whatever quality is left...and now...2016...well, you need rain boots and an oxygen mask to walk the streets...before bed last night i caught a story about a poor woman walking on the east side...6pm...a man came behind her and shoved a bag of shit down her pants...i just can't...the pretenders had it...just not ohio...i went back to new york...but my city was gone...watch where you walk out there...although it just may be the tracks of my tears...

prose like a butterfly, blog like a bee...

and so the poetry spouting beloved boxer is gone...supreme athlete...poet if you didn't know it...american...muslim...conscientious objector (look that up if it's before your time)...husband (several times)...father (of nine!)...muhammad ali...finally succumbing to parkinson's...the ultimate price he paid for his prowess...the mighty are falling...the musicians...actors...writers...and so many who have shaped the worlds we have lived in...but tell me...what athletes today would truly defy status quo...be so eloquent in the shadows of a beautifully violent sport...can you imagine coming home with olympic gold...and not being able to sit down to eat and celebrate where you wanted?...we have come so far...or so they say...how can so many sing his praises...post pictures of his face...and hate who he was at the same time...and here i am railing against the machine...because i am not painting pictures with poetry here...no, this blog is for the day to day...the tedious...the nuance...the things that hurt...and anger...and sometimes if i am lucky...the fleeting moments that sing me to sleep...and so tonight i am hoping that muhammed ali's soul is drifting peacefully to a better place...where he is loved and admired for all that he was...the messy imperfection that is the human soul...and for that we say...amen

sisterhood of the tan pants

last night at dinner with friends the conversation went to clothes...and the dismay over favorite pants that don't fit...did the cleaners shrink the pants?...would they shrink them if i cheated on them and took up with another dry cleaner?...was it the winter?...age?...the case of pinot and cookies?...i laughed inside...because this seems to be a ying yang constant for me...my body is wreaking havoc on my soul...and self image...the scale is up and down faster than the latest roller coaster...the fine art of camouflage is useless in summer...i give up...and so back to dinner...there is shorthand that exists between dear friends...the shared angst of aging parents...and the emptiness for parents who are gone...the worry over children and nieces and nephews...what kind of world are we handing over to them...and the disbelief over how much time has gone by...how many shared meals and stories...and as i thought about this only one thing remained...fuck the pants...i don't care what size they are as long as these "mamashanas" will be there...and as long as we can bitch and laugh together...there will always be this sisterhood...searching for the perfect tan pants!

pie, with a side of life...

yesterday, i saw the new broadway musical, "waitress"...and if it weren't for a little show called "hamilton", then this would be the musical announced again and again tony-time...quite wonderful...when i had read way back about the musical adaptation of the movie i was very excited...and yet, the quirky independent film...the vision and artistic achievement of the equally quirky adrienne shelly...always brings tears to my eyes...her brutal murder, which was at first thought a suicide...and most definitely not...her movie...writer, director, co-star...would open to raves at sundance...and she would never live to see it...artistically, i am sure her talent would have soared further...but her little girl...the beautiful cherub as lulu in the movie...robbed of her mother so young...and so, as i watched this version...i felt tears well up...yes, for jesse mueller's soaring voice...sara bareilles' haunting and uplifting score...diane paulus'  beautiful interpretation of at times funny, but mostly very serious subject matter...no they welled up for ms. shelly...her delectable pie of a film...and for the life she should have tasted

purple rain and pink moons

last week we were awash in purple...another musical genius' wings clipped far too soon...purple everywhere obliterating our search for the pink april moon...i've quoted this before...excuse the repeat...but, hell, the candles mount on that birthday cake and soon repeating will be the new norm..."april is the cruellest month"...oh, yes, t.s. eliot...you knew it well...the irony of life, and nature...because promise is often followed by harsh reality...that first warm day, your face to the sun...then, jackets and boots again...spring snow...you get it...but then again...we still have the choice to look for what will bloom amid all that is bleak and dull...and to nurture it well...to look up at the budding trees as your feet skim the garbage on city streets...the juxtaposition...as prince so eloquently sang...to dance in the purple rain...and maybe ignore the sound of doves crying in the distance...

idol worship

and so this past week we said goodbye to "american idol"...the granddaddy of reality tv...i came upon this cultural phenomenon mid-second season...and watched until the last few years when it seemed to be like the guest that overstays...and, also, i discovered "the voice"...and those contestants can sing like nobody's business...but i watched wednesday and thursday...the clips, interviews and contestants from so many years...and smiled...but winced too...the very subtle cruel underbelly of all that was "idol" was the perverse fun in the untalented...whether they were truly people who were clueless that their singing should be contained to the morning shower...or scripted by ratings hungry network executives...there is a meanness in reality tv...and maybe we don't see it anymore as it creeps into daily life and becomes the fabric of what is acceptable...so, do we thrill more at a pure voice that comes from some higher power...or the pitchy wannabes who hang around for weeks batting baby blues and plunging necklines...swagger and scruff...but even this cynic forgave it all...the hot mess of a 15-year-old war horse when they showed Kelly Clarkson, via tape...pure joy in her voice surfing all the notes...while very pregnant...reminding me that sometimes we do get it right...

brussel(s) sprouts...

march plods on...a holy weekend for so many...the pastel colors of easter float around me...but belgium...oh, belgium...images of fine chocolate vaporized in a media minute...again we watch...and look away...pray quietly to whatever higher spirit we seek in these moments...you cannot rationalize what is never rational...and you wish for just one moment that everyone would shut up and not try to further a professional or political agenda while the blood hasn't dried in subway stations and on terminal tiles...there is humility in the realization of how little we can control...and so in this little blog...i ask that if you celebrate this weekend...say a prayer for those around this globe who long to pray but cannot...and then say one for those lost in brussels who no longer can...and i will do the same next month with my loved ones at our passover table...then maybe...only for a moment...love will win

"he vould have an enormous schwanzschtucker"

it is march...the campaigns forge on...the republican field narrows...you can smell desperation through your tv screen or phone...because we now have come to this...i'll bet jeb (or as i call him "just enough brains") is glad he went home...carson too...and without frau fiorina on the stage the latest debate became a scene from "american pie...the younger years"...it is hard to fathom...and embarrassing...for whether or not this is your party...this is supposedly the same party that gave us reagan...dole...mccain...but now...it's the roar of the crowd...shouting...yelling...and, yes, the size of your dick...which is appropriate if you are watching at home...since we are the ones getting screwed...but truly...why not just do the right thing...present this as a wwe event...let's get ready to rumble..."teflon trump"..."robotic rubio"..."crafty cruz"...and "kill me so i can go home kasich"...fox should carry it...a nice lead in to idol...vote one off each week...hmm...then i thought about this...maybe we should go really old school...like the romans...lions and an arena...but being an animal lover i couldn't...after all...eating one of these guys...full of hot air and no substance...they would just give those lions gas...

look before you leap...

2016...a leap year...extra day...now, if this happens to be your birthday...yea!...go you!...unless you're on the other side of 50...then maybe stick with march 1st...but seriously...an extra day of february...ah, that monthly commuter ticket thanks you...an extra day of winter...your dry skin thanks you...but an extra day of campaigning...no one thanks you...well, can't speak for all of you...but for me...i am done...i was really done when it started...and you cannot get away from it...because for the three media seconds that are not spent on the election...you get to hear about kanye's broke ass or another slashing in the big apple...or maybe it'll be winter storm "we didn't catch this one on the radar so you're stuck inside for three fucking days watching the weather channel and candidate debates"...yes, i am done with political promises, non-political assurances and analysis from pompous pundits...i moved to nassau county almost four years ago...with a tax structure that would make ponzi blush...and now this corrupt county had to hire a compliance chief...yes, another salary...for someone to literally oversee and babysit elected officials...oh, don't get me started...it's bottoms up folks...if it stinks at the bottom it rises to the top...ah, leap year...what we all really need is a leap of faith...and not the kind packaged for our consumption at the top...no, just the kind that helps us get out of bed in the morning...to keep trying to fight the good fight...raise our kids to care in a very unforgiving, and uncaring world...and catch them when they forget to look before they leap

what's love got to do with it....

several days ago...as i navigated through the costco parking lot...two days after yet more snow on long island...i observed the masses heading for the store entrance...having been deprived of bulk food shopping for 24 hours...looking like the walking dead...and then i heard yet another radio ad for valentine's day...and thought about it...someone once said to me years ago...it's just a hallmark holiday...and there is some truth to that statement...after all...what better way for retail to recoup the losses of january's Christmas returns...and i also remembered...not too fondly...the times when after struggling only weeks earlier to secure new year's plans...there i was again...hoping for more than a night of bad pre-cable tv on valentine's...that double punch if it fell on a saturday...flash forward and i was the mom buying packaged cards filled with disney princesses...crayons and markers...the deep desire for acceptance buried in each little card's catch phrase...and as we would pack them in a backpack i thought...lord, what's love got to do with this?...paper and chocolate dictating your worth...yesterday, i was at the register in macy's...and the salesgirl was joking with her co-worker..."just give me a date for valentine's, hell i don't care if we break up the next day"...i smiled at her and joked that valentine's and new year's were like the prom revisited each year...and she laughed in agreement...but somewhere deep inside she'd meant it...and i looked at her and thought...in the name of love?...not...screw you godiva!

"well i got some beer and the highway's free"..."

bruce!!!!...who better to lift you out of the winter doldrums...especially after days of navigating snow piles mile high...and slush corners river deep...so where did it start for you?...was it way back?..."greetings from asbury park"...born in the usa"...or more of a legacy passed down from your parents...for me it was 1981...the ultimate cultural exchange between close friends was about to unfold...me and jeannine...nyu days...i would share my love of ballet...and slight obsession with a certain male ballet star...hmm...what is the name...oh, yeah...baryshnikov...and then exactly on my 21st birthday...lincoln center...american ballet theater...misha (68 today!)...paired with cynthia gregory...we were left breathless with his first jete...and then that summer...the old brendan byrne arena...it was jeannine's turn...bruce!!!...half way through the concert..."sherry darling"...jeannine turned to our section screaming, and pointed at me..."her name is sherri"...and everyone turned around singing to me, beer flying...and when it was over...it was off to the record store...there have been several bruce concerts since then...and without fail...no "sherry darling"...oh, he would sing it on occasion...just in other cities...on other tours...so when "the river" tour was announced...i dutifully logged on to ticketmaster...waited...walked away from the laptop...and by some miracle two tickets popped up...so there we were last night...waiting...when a group sat down behind us...a bit older...a lot louder...obnoxious loud...reminded me of a classic woody allen line...what i would give for a sock of manure...but ok, i thought...who cares?...bruce, right?...and then it happened...they started discussing "sherry darling"...the "throwaway" song of the album...one guy defended it...loved it...couldn't wait...wanted to shake his hand...but the other one wouldn't shut up...and then his wife chimed in..."oh, he's going to sing the river?"...you know...you can't make this shit up!...thankfully, the roar of the band and crowd drowned them within minutes...and third song...well, you know...and i almost turned to sing (with a twist)..."he keeps talkin' he'll be walking that last block"...but, what the hell...hey, hey, hey...not this, sherri darling...

cause i'm already standing on the ground...

death is coming in multitudes of three's...it's drowning the soundtrack of my youth...and hurts on these short, brutally cold days...it allows no respite from the media-driven squawking these days...the discourse of our nation...the discourse of our globe...and there's that sudden skip your heart does when you realize that your age...and the age of those who've passed...well, that's a small gap...natalie cole...who lived longer than the ravages of her youth should have allowed...but that voice...that range...david bowie...androgynous beauty...limitless talent...the biting "suffragette city"...the sad and sweet "changes"...hypnotic "let's dance"...but it wasn't enough...glenn frey...who now will never sit in that box at the kennedy center...and watch his music eloquently dance below...will never marvel at the full circle that rock and roll can be...all now part of maudlin montages and social media excess...sadly, because although they may be our soundtrack...a song from that old transistor radio...turntable...car speaker...boom box...concert venue...cd...iphone...let's get some perspective...they're never going to be that empty seat at christmas or thanksgiving...they're sweet footnotes...or footprints in your memory...ah, but on nights like these...i'll admit...breaking out an old cd...i'll close my eyes...longing for that peaceful, easy feeling...