2020 Vision...

another New Year...another decade...another stab at New Year's resolutions...and I know I will break them...but it is the thought...or intent...right?...like I will resolve to write more, edit more, read more...and then I'll grab the tv remote...and find "Working Girl" or "Devil Wears Prada"...recite the lines till the closing credits...and after my butt has become attached to the couch cushion think...oh, yeah, I was going to write...or I will resolve to eat fewer cookies and chocolate...and be drawn like a moth to the flame to the box of snowcaps at the movies...vowing to only eat a few...and then reach for an empty box halfway through...the previews...or resolve to curse less...although there have been reports about cursing and intelligence...but they are probably posts by Russian bots I saw when aimlessly scrolling through Facebook...and I will try...but I know I will find myself at a left-turn light...on Old Country Road...which allows about 2.5 cars per light...and the light will change to green and some idiot at the front of the line will be looking at their phone or kid in the back or whatever and just sit there...and none of us will move...except for the person behind me...antsy and inching closer to my trunk and I will shout loudly at the car up front..."move you stupid fucking moron"...well, and there will go that resolution...and I will resolve to not let the political climate get me riled up and negate my blood pressure medicine...but for that I would have to move to Papua New Guinea...and even there I would have WiFi...maybe a tan and wild hair too...but I would not escape the curse of internet immediacy...so maybe I will just resolve to give a little more...expect a little less...and find happiness in that sweet spot in the middle...to all my family and friends...I wish you peace this new decade...this 2020...peace in our world, your immediate world...mostly peace with yourself...me...I'm looking for the snowcaps...

Big Little Women...

2019 movies...there was QuentinTarantino's love poem to Sharon Tate...Martin Scorsese's atonement for films knee-deep in gore without redemption...Bong Joon-ho's insidious tale of class warfare...Lulu Wang's tender look at what we gain and lose in assimilation...Noah Baumbach's (un)biased look at the denouement of marriage, maybe his own...Todd Phillips polarizing view of karma in our increasingly uncaring society...but Greta Gerwig…your latest take on Little Women destroyed me in the best sense of the word...in this century as women claim to be a Carrie Bradshaw or one of  her posse...just color me a March girl...I am Meg...and I want to be an actress...but realism sits me down...I am Beth...the piano calls my name...but my concert is for no one but me...I am Amy...the world is wide...and French...and the easel beckons...but there is a clarity too...and the paint brush is packed away...I am older...I am Marmee...angry at the world every day...because of how it should be and how it is...for everyone...for women...and I vow to be better...and now I am approaching Aunt March's age...as a man the outspokenness would be bold...as a women...in Alcott's time...and even now...crochety and rigid...but most of all I am Jo...the writer...creating a world with a pen...or a keyboard...brimming with equal portions assuredness and self-doubt...Greta Gerwig is Jo too...and the writer in me ached for her...the previews for her exquisite film consisted of Sponge Bob, Dolittle and other fodder aimed at children...what the hell was Regal trying to say?...that Little Women is a children's movie?...would they pull this shit with Tarantino?...will the DGA or Oscar invite Greta to the big boys table?...or sit her in the parlor on a velvet settee?...well maybe if her name was G. Gerwig...you know like J.K. Rowling...or J. March...

frankincense and myrrh and schmaltz...

'tis the season...but this year I find myself doing a double-take...when Thanksgiving swept in on sweet potato pies I thought...wait isn't it Halloween?...such has been the race of time this year...2020...a new decade...it is right around the bend...and next week Christmas and Chanukah begin...cookies and egg nog...and latkes and donuts...and heartburn and another inch on my tuchas...and all I want in my stocking is my old 21-year-old svelte leg...sorry, digressing...all I want at this time of year is to avoid the television...news, in particular...unless I'm binging some streaming series that will amuse but ultimately disappoint...this world is leaving me numb, and hard to entertain...floating into awards season...used to be such a guilty pleasure...and now this season is earlier...which I hate to inform the old networks and cable stations on life support...will not increase your ratings...now I shrug at the predictability of it all...the holiday miracle?...535 pink slips in DC?...I have no answers...maybe time to think and feel like a child again...the unbridled joy in the shadows of a Menorah...or in footed pjs under a tree on Christmas morning...the masses are joyless...searching for hope before sunrise wakens us to a new decade...Happy Holidays and hoping we all find that joy again in 2020!...

merrily we roll along...

the lions are circling...it is the 21st century fall of our Roman Empire and we are battling for our sanity...or at least to not be "cancelled" or thrown to the hungry lions with one "ok boomer" tweet...we mock the younger generation...they resent us with a fierceness that is unsettling...and all of it done on a worn living room couch...tweeting on the latest phone made in China while McDonald's delivers...progress...and the holiday season is upon us...earlier and earlier because bottom lines are crumbling...industries vanishing...and the world is burning...but I keep thinking about something I saw in Port Authority about a week ago...you are laughing because if you've been in any of New York's main transit hubs you are also thinking to yourself...surprise me because I have seen it all...maybe you have...you already are immune to military fatigues and loaded guns...men and women who stand guard while the crowds shove past...you've seen the homeless sprawled out on staircases and subway benches...screaming in rest rooms for no apparent reason...inching closer to you as trains roll in the station as the sweat beads your forehead wondering...is this the day I get pushed...evaluating those around you...would they pull me to safety...and the whole time trying not to inhale...this is our New York...this is our ancient Rome falling...and so it was when I was weaving through humanity on a Monday rush hour eve...navigating through Port Authority...one door and a staircase away from the subway when I felt his presence to my left...a large disheveled homeless man...in a hurry...rolling a beat-up office chair...why?...it really puzzled me...I kept thinking about him as I pushed my way onto a downtown C train...C meaning "c if you can breathe"...where the hell was he taking the chair?...where did he find it?...was it wedged in the trash between the piles of discarded Starbucks coffee cups?...the lions keep circling...you think throwing an impossible burger at them will keep them at bay?...maybe I should have asked that guy with the chair...as he rolled into November darkness...swept away with the masses...heads downs...phone screens dotting the night...

the party's over...

it has been several weeks since my daughter, Lauren's wedding...and I can honestly say I have post-wedding planning blues...many of you can relate...and to be honest...it actually doesn't have to have been a wedding...whenever we are involved planning or anticipating a big event...there are the weeks that follow where we don't know what the hell to do...well, we do go about the business of life, of work, etc...but that underlying feeling of excitement...nervousness...even the stress it wraps around...all gone...but truly this one is by nature different...our family dynamic has changed...we have expanded...I now have a son-in-law...I am now a mother-in-law...and Lauren has started her own family dynamic...the changes are subtle...but there...for me, I think what I am more cognizant of is the passage of time...and with 60 looming just about 6 months away...I am contemplating how I'd like my next chapter to read...to those around me...and most importantly to me...they say that 60 is the new 40...who is this they...cause they don't feel these bones as they swing over the side of the bed in the morning...but there in my mind...the road is open and boundless...there is time and possibility...but first coffee...

bubbe and zayde

September is coming to a close...the leaves are turning...and falling...but summer is in full bloom...little rain...abundant sun...and for me, after months of poetic drought...I find myself not just wanting to write, but needing to...I believe there are no greater writing prompts than joy and sorrow...and so it has been for my larger family these last weeks...cousins on the greater family tree of my beloved grandmother Bella, long gone...three funerals...and in between, the ultimate happiness in my daughter, Lauren's wedding...as I embraced family at all these events it got me thinking...about how family trees bloom, expand...and these days...disperse throughout our country...social media gives us the chance to reconnect...to see children we may never meet...to marvel at how diverse and large we have become...but there is nothing that can replace hugging someone you have not seen in years...double-digit years...looking into their eyes...at their faces...and recognizing a grin...or laugh...and knowing it is the same as their mother...or grandfather...the passage of time diminished...our children may not fully understand how their successes, both professional and personal, lift up older generations in times of sorrow...how that affirms that the tree will continue to bloom...I wondered while standing alongside my cousins on yet another cemetery last week..if the bubbe and the zayde, as they were affectionately called...my great-grandparents...did they realize when they struggled to come here what they planted...how it would grow...and be sustained through grief and loss...an everlasting tree tended to from generation to generation...and so I pause and thank them as we approach the New Year...L'Shanah Tovah Tikateivu...

waxing...poetic

giving up can be liberating...at least that's what I think the line was...at this age ask the four of us in that conversation what the line was and it would be like the movie "Rashomon"...we were talking about waxing, tweezing, hair dye and well...you get the drift...and as some of us cross the line to retirement...and others think about the prospect in a not too distant future...we, as women, were musing over the effort involved in keeping up...the minutia of appearance...who is it for?...and so the opening line...but, really, the deeper subtext is that ability to finally say...what the hell...screw it...I'll do what I want, when I want, if I want cause I've earned that...and more...lately I have found myself thinking so much about time...how it is squandered...then cherished...thinking about what I have learned, and how much there is still to learn...giving up can be liberating as a statement in and of itself sounds defeatist...but it is not...when you stop worrying about what you cannot control and focus on being present...in the moment...there is a freedom...ultimately it doesn't matter if you remembered to wax your eyebrows...or get your roots done in time...because if you are present for yourself...you are present for those you love...and those who love you and need you...and for that I say...amen...and pass the tweezers...

it's too darn hot

it's this summer's tune...after this country was put in a late spring twister blender...drowned in flood waters...now we bake...the temperature is hot hot hot...our political figures from highest office to lowest fan flames and tempers...it's only July 19th...so much more of summer...it's only July 2019...so much longer till November 2020...solutions?...none...suggestions...well, yes...turn off the news...put the cell phone face down...turn up the music...call a friend or two...then see that friend or two...which I did earlier this week...got me thinking about all the posts in my feed about friendship...about vacations with your girls...oh, yes...definitely not fake news...catching up with lifelong friends with a crisp glass of wine in hand...the sky crystal blue...water before us...well, your pulse slows...frown lines give way to laugh lines...oh, hell, we laughed...we listened...took pictures...had strangers take pictures...to remember...which I hope we all will...maybe a testimony that anger should be fleeting...joy may be elusive...but friendships like these...how they can lift you up...well, that's eternal...

shower to the people

sometimes I think that I would love to speak to orchestra conductors...because it would be fascinating to know what they hear as they wave the little baton through the air...do they hear the violins...the flutes...or is all of that drowned out by the voice in their heads urging them onward...such it seems to be with planning life events...Saturday was Lauren's shower...and much as it had been at her bat-mitzvah...the experience seems to be one where you are present and so happy...and then kind of out-of-body...the voice in your head whispering...is everyone here?...take a picture...try and mingle...omg, the cake...they need to serve the cake...take a picture with the cake...and then that subtle shift into slow motion...where you watch your child...not a child...a beautiful woman...smiling with joy...and then you smile...and realize that all the planning...the minutia...all for this moment...it is here and everyone is smiling...the sun is radiant...the only showers in this room are the good wishes and love from friends and family...all the instruments in blissful harmony...the conductor letting a smile escape while turning to the orchestra...and that my friends, is a rhapsody...and Gershwin would be proud...

the cane mutiny

the title of this blog was originally going to be 248499...that number would be belted out in full Les Miz style by Jean Valjean...Hugh Jackman for my movie people, Colm Wilkinson for my Broadway babies...the number was assigned to me two weeks ago when I checked into the Hospital for Special Surgery for routine left knee arthroscopy...the poor left knee that has seen this before and decided to act up with zest the last few months...when told of a new treatment where your own stem cells are injected during surgery I thought...well, maybe this will help...I pulled the trigger and scheduled quickly figuring with Lauren's September wedding fast approaching I would have time to be back and ready to party...now how does that expression go...people make plans and G-d laughs!...a few days after the surgery I noticed increasing pain in the left calf...I was already in PT and they worked on it...but for good measure they told me to watch it...and I knew what they were thinking...two days later my calf was bruising and swelling...and I was promptly sent for an ultrasound...and thankfully there was no DVT...but a substantial hematoma...by the end of the week by calf looked like it had gone for a few rounds with Rocky and Paulie in a meat locker...you know that pain chart scale...1-10...I was off the chart...that cane that I came home with was my best friend...I was in constant contact with my surgeon's physican's assistant...to this day I have not heard directly from the surgeon...anyone surprised?...this week there was another sonogram...a ruptured cyst at the back of the left knee drained...and then being told that the fluid in my calf was dispersed throughout the tissue...no pocket to drain...and so I am wearing a leg sleeve designed by Josef Mengele...compressing to get the swelling and bruising to dissipate...elevating the leg...watching May fade away and hoping for relief...glad that the dress I bought for the shower is nice and long!...time to get the ice bags out...again...and hope this is only one day more!

plagues and prose

it's National Poetry month...yea!...a whole month to read the beautiful works of poets long gone and some just cresting the literary surface...and to be reminded that I am not writing much these days...and not too pleased about it...and tonight Passover begins...and so, as I observe commuting, and life in general, these April days, there are new plagues upon us...and so I bring you the new 10 plagues...10) construction...in the subway stations...one day a staircase is there...one day you're walking into a wall...not metaphorically...alternating almost daily...just to keep you on your toes...9) rolling luggage...tourist season...I'm home from college season...the wheels never roll on a fucking piece of Samsonite season...all zig zagging in front of you while attempting to make the train season...8) pasty leg season...that first and only 70+ day of sunshine and your legs look like two loaves of moldy Wonder bread...you roast in jeans...7) Citi Bikes...and the people who use them...riding against traffic...through red lights...without helmets...in flip flops...what could go wrong? 6) going to that play or musical with anticipation...smile on your face...then...Times Square...ten million people...all looking up...not moving...and four thousand fondle-me Elmo's...after which you watch "The Deuce" and become wistfully nostalgic for the old scuzzy Times Square of days gone by...5) walking on Fifth and no longer seeing Lord & Taylor...dreaming of Christmas windows...then seeing so many empty store fronts in Manhattan...a shiver runs through you in the spring breeze...4) this one, specific to LIRR riders...third rail construction...parking lots closing...months of crap coming...oh, and some fare hikes...3) Lori Loughlin's smirk 2) urinetown...aka NYC...an endless stream of consciously ignoring quality of life by the powers that be...and 1) true story...#1 train uptown to Penn this week...holding onto a center pole...two men sitting and chatting in front of me...and then I hear it...not once...not twice...but at least three times with full butt lift...farts to end all farts...everyone sits motionless...but you look at each other...oh yeah...gotta love NY...it's a gas, gas, gas...

Schticks and stones...

I was watching a movie the other day...from the eighties...comedy...I probably knew more than half the dialogue...certainly all the punch lines...and as I watched I realized...quite sadly...that the same movie could never get past go these days...it would never be financed...never open in movies theaters nationwide...ah, political correctness...which when it crept into the corners of our society years ago was actually quite necessary...but now it has rendered us mute and frozen...we stop writing, afraid to offend...we become shrill...defensive...and humorless...were we always so insensitive...did our laughs come at the expense of others...uh, yes...if you did laugh did that make you a bigot...you probably would say of course not...but isn't everybody...even just a bit...laughing when we shouldn't because of unease of what we don't know or understand...can you laugh at yourself...at "your own people" as easily...I remember the old line that sometimes it is best if the joke you tell is only about yourself, or "your own people"...but are we only safe if we stay in our own lanes...where does that leave us in this rich melting pot that is our country...there is a scene in Spike Lee's insightful and incendiary "Do The Right Thing" where the characters...each a different racial or ethnic group...face the camera and hurl every slur they can at each other...kind of harsh and cathartic in bizarre fashion...I wonder sometimes...next time there is a national debate...let them all yell at each other...all that bile and distaste...get it out...pause...laugh at the absurdity...shake hands with meaning...and get the hell on with it...just thinking...

February made me shiver...

the sky was brilliantly blue today...sun so bright the sunglasses didn't cut it...it was a sky that made you feel life was ripe with possibilities...of course, I felt like a strapped-in mummy in the driver's seat...mummified in a down coat, scarf, gloves...ah, the trappings of a February chill...tomorrow, we slide into March...I am twitching as a remember what happened last winter...we sailed, save a January storm...and then it hit...the dreaded word on Long Island...four weeks in a row...Nor'easter...I whisper a prayer to the weather gods...please, no repeat...because my sallow complexion and flaking skin are crying for spring...I figure with the wind earlier this week...the one where we felt we were up in the cyclone with Dorothy...yeah, that one...well, that's it, we got all of March in two days...bring on early spring...I want to smell the leaves in bloom...send the coats and wool off to the cleaners...banish the boots...I sink into the couch with a cup of tea...ready for the torment of the news...but I daydream...tulips...and realize...that we will all be wearing green, and trudging through snow and rain in a few weeks...such is the way winter plays it last hand...the countdown starts...ignore Lee Goldberg's forecast...and pray Lonnie doesn't roll up his damned sleeves on Channel 2!!!

Ratatouille...

ok, so I've been slacking off on the blogposts...and the poetry...officially, a writer's slump...except kvetching to newspaper and magazine editors...that garners response...some published...but it's not where I want to be, from a writing standpoint...bleh...we are deep in winter...spring, not so close...and we are sliding towards the Oscars...yawn...after 9 billion awards shows, it's hard to muster enthusiasm...but going to the movies...nestling in as the lights dim...that is still my sweet spot...and so, I generally catch up with movies at the AMC that's literally within walking distance...especially with the weekday morning special of $6 and change...but the theater is rundown...there have been rumors for years that it will close...that if AMC moves forward into the yet to be approved and started entertainment complex at Nassau Coliseum...it will certainly shutter the dumpy multiplex by me...and there we were two weeks ago...on the weekend in theater 10, "On the Basis of Sex"...an earnest, yet strangely forgettable movie that should have been a September release so it wouldn't get trampled in the Oscar stampede...I digress...I was seated on the aisle...the theater smelled...not pleasant...more like eau de penn station mixed with stale popcorn...about 30 minutes before the movie ended, I thought I saw a shadow move in the aisle, towards the screen...nah...and then again...wait, was it Ratso Rizzo...Willard...Ben...omg...my pulse raced...with 5 minutes to go, I whispered to Mike...I think there are rats here...the credits rolled and we ran...ew...ew...ew...I called the AMC the next day and spoke to the 12 year old manager who was stunned...or high...I called the Nassau County Board of Health the next business day...they took all the information...and called me back a week later to inform me there was an abundance of evidence from their little stop at the theater...gross...how this resolves, who knows...but I am sad...I drive by and the movies call me...but not enough to squat in a ripped chair waiting for the carpet to move below...but really, what I want to know...are those little guys running underfoot AMC stubs members?...just asking for a friend!

a day in the life...

I read the news today, oh boy...and had to share it with those I knew from way back when...NYU days...School of the Arts days..before there was Tisch...when classes and studios were in an old shitty building called "South Building"...where we joked that the tv studio equipment looked like it was dropped out of a plane...when film students bowed at the Scorsese shrine...way back before the Village and Soho became high-end shopping grounds...when you knew exactly where the back entrance to Chumley's was...when the bathroom was unisex at McSorley's...and when we were impossibly young...blessed with many talented professors, some not that much older than us...and so when I saw that obituary...Mark Chernichaw...there was a catch in my throat...my advisor...my teacher...my friend...I remember his laugh...his caring...I remember him barely holding back the tears as we sat around the morning after John Lennon was murdered...yes, way back when...before we became numb to murder and loss...and how in that morning I saw him as a peer...and it was awesome...such is the grace of creativity...with the torch passing forward again and again...I think of his family and I am truly sad for their loss...but I cannot picture as he was now only then...and when I think of him...that time in my life...I remember with joy how I was then...art pooling at my feet and the world opening wide and bright...and for that I thank you, Mark, quite deeply...rest in peace...