At The Lake

You can sit on our bench, just push all the fishing stuff over - the little boy tells me

I thank him and sit and watch them for a bit.

My name is Robert
Nice to meet you Robert, I'm Dianne
He points toward the older gentleman - That's Grandpa
Grandpa nods and smiles

I know a lot about fishing, Grandpa teaches me things
You're lucky. I bet he's a good teacher.
He is but we never catch anything. It's just a thing to do while we talk.
I ask what they talk about

All the important things 

It's Not That Big A City If You Live Here

At 9:07 this morning a man started shooting people on 33rd Street near 5th Avenue. They’re still sorting through who that man was (he was killed by police) and why he started shooting.


That’s not what’s going through my mind.

As soon as I saw the breaking news report I called my Daughter-In-Law; she has family who work on 35th Street and 5th Avenue. Then I called my brother to find out if my nieces were in midtown.


Between those two calls a neighbor called me to tell me her daughter was OK. She knew I’d be worried. Her daughter was in the World Trade Center on September 11th, 2001 and still has serious anxiety and depression issues as an aftermath of that day. She now works in the Empire State Building – on a low floor she tells people – and we were all concerned that this would be too much for her to handle. Thankfully her co-workers are also survivors of 9/11 and they all helped each other stay calm.

While we spoke on the phone and compared notes of TV coverage of the event, my brother and I started to reminisce about all the times we’d been on that street. I walked down that street almost every day when I worked on 33rd Street and Lexington Avenue (about 4 blocks from the shooting scene); we used to meet at the Houlihan’s in the base of the Empire State Building; my niece worked one summer at the Duane Reade drugstore on 33rd Street. We each know people who work in the Empire State Building now or in any one of the hundreds of stores and offices and restaurants within those few streets.

If you don’t live in New York City you probably see it as the huge mecca for business and tourism that obviously it is.

If you don’t live in New York City it must be difficult to comprehend that streets full of thousands of people milling about are also neighborhoods.

While we navigate the crowds on the way to and from home we pass many strangers.

Yet we also pass the doorman we see every morning; the guy we get our paper and coffee from; the Mom who takes her baby to the park at the same time each morning; the elderly woman who goes to Food Emporium as soon as it opens; the pretty young girl who works in the sportswear shop; the janitor who pulls in the trash cans from overnight pick-up; the woman who walks her dogs before leaving for the office …

These are our neighbors and our friends. New York City is our home in exactly the same way that any smaller city or tiny town is home.

That’s what I was thinking as I watched what seemed like a movie unfold in my home town.

There are already hundreds of photos online of the shooting scene.

I’ll share with you some scenes of the NY I know.

    Be careful out there; wherever you are.

What Kind of Hot Is It?

Man it's hot. It's like Africa hot. Tarzan couldn't take this kind of hot.

~ Matthew Broderick as Eugene Morris Jerome in Biloxi Blues

A young Jewish man from Brooklyn arrives in Mississippi

Feels like both Africa Hot and Mississippi Hot

Have Arrived in NJ

Here's a few scenes of folks trying to cool off ...

 

My granddaughter Hope at the park and in the pool with Daddy

 

 

  When I opened the door of my air conditioned car the windshield immediately fogged up

 

OY!

SUMMER STOCK SUNDAY

'Running of the Brides'

Yesterday was the annual 'Running of the Brides' at Filene's Basement. Designer wedding gowns are sold at substantial savings to those willing to push and shove and wear funny hats.

I always want to punch them.

My DIL dreamed of wearing a Vera Wang wedding gown. My son will tell you his wife always wanted "a dress by Suzie Wong or something like that, some skinny Asian chick."

Vera Wang had a sample sale in Chicago right after Jeffrey and Connie were engaged and so off we went. Me, Connie and her Mom. Since this was a last minute decision we couldn't get rooms in the same hotel as the sale. Once we settled in at our hotel about a mile away Connie and I decided to go scout out the sale location. It was around 10 PM and the sale was set to start at 9 the next morning. We found the hotel and it looked very very quiet. As the taxi rounded the corner we saw a few people sitting on the street by the side entrance. I'll never forget the taxi driver - "that's those crazy bride people, by 2 AM there will be hundreds of them."

The look of panic on my DIL's face was tragic. The short plane ride from NY to Chicago had been delayed and she was exhausted. Her Mom was already asleep back at the hotel. Visions of waiting for Springsteen tickets danced in my head and I told her that if she got me a folding chair and a blanket I'd join the line.

I've been to Chicago many times and it is one of my most favorite cities. Waiting all night on that line was one of the best times I ever had in Chicago.

After getting my camping supplies at a Rite Aid the taxi took us back to the line. I got out and shouted out to my co-linees - "hey girls, Vera makes plus sizes right!!."

They liked me.

My real story was told quick enough. A rep from Vera Wang called me "that fabulous mother-in-law from NY" - he was a giant teddy bear of a man who had just been dumped by the love of his life and here he was running a wedding gown sale. He had the most delicious twisted sense of humor and we had a grand time together.

I met a lawyer from Boston. A secretary from Wisconsin. A police officer from Florida. There was a young girl there from a very strict family. She had begged her father to let her sleep on the sidewalk. He kept coming down to check on her. I told him I'd look out for her but I think that might have only made him more nervous.

My most favorite line companion was a man (the only one) who was marrying a woman who was divorced with a child. He insisted she stay upstairs with her daughter. He told me she had never had a real wedding and her ex was a bastard and he wanted her to have everything she deserved. He was a sweet sweet man.

We took turns going for coffee and wandering around the surrounding streets. At one point six or seven of us were standing in front of a high rise with arms linked singing "Oprah, Oprah - please come out and play" - I don't know if Oprah even lived there.

At 7 the next morning one of my new best friends called my DIL at the hotel screaming that she had to wake up and come get on line - and bring breakfast for 20. She and her Mom arrived shortly after. With breakfast for 20.

The Vera Wang people were wonderful. My teddy bear buddy knew the line and he kept it organized. It had grown and grown overnight and was now stretched all around the hotel. The relief in my DIL's eyes made me so happy.

We were let in 12 at a time. No pushing, no shoving. Lots of laughter and excitement.

I gave my folding chair and blanket to a homeless guy on the corner.

My DIL got her dress.

That's the way to 'run the brides'.

some photos of me and "my girls" were taken using my DIL's brother's camera but the memory card was lost so I can't share them. the photos here are of the Filene's sale from the NY Daily News

Six Word Saturday: Heat and Hair

I Blame It On The Heat

The temperature reached the 90s on Wednesday and I needed to venture out for an appointment. I arrived early so I hung out in my car to people watch.

When I noticed this gentleman ...



I immediately thought ...

Give Me A Head With Hair

She asks me why
I'm just a hairy guy
I'm hairy noon and night
Hair that's a fright
I'm hairy high and low
Don't ask me why
Don't know
It's not for lack of bread
Like the Grateful Dead
Darling

Gimme head with hair
Long beautiful hair
Shining, gleaming,
Streaming, flaxen, waxen

Give me down to there hair
Shoulder length or longer
Here baby, there mama
Everywhere daddy daddy

Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair
Flow it, show it
Long as God can grow it
My hair

Let it fly in the breeze
And get caught in the trees
Give a home to the fleas in my hair
A home for fleas
A hive for bees
A nest for birds
There ain't no words
For the beauty, the splendor, the wonder
Of my...

Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair
Flow it, show it
Long as God can grow it
My hair

I want it long, straight, curly, fuzzy
Snaggy, shaggy, ratty, matty
Oily, greasy, fleecy
Shining, gleaming, streaming
Flaxen, waxen
Knotted, polka-dotted
Twisted, beaded, braided
Powdered, flowered, and confettied
Bangled, tangled, spangled, and spaghettied!

Oh say can you see
My eyes if you can
Then my hair's too short

Down to here
Down to there
Down to where
It stops by itself

They'll be ga ga at the go go
When they see me in my toga
My toga made of blond
Brilliantined
Biblical hair

My hair like Jesus wore it
Hallelujah I adore it
Hallelujah Mary loved her son
Why don't my mother love me?

Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair
Flow it, show it
Long as God can grow it
My hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair
Flow it, show it
Long as God can grow it
My hair

So there I was, sitting in my car belting out the song - loud and proud, and a wee bit insane.

I saw the original Broadway performance of Hair and all these millions of years later I still remember all the words.

SIX WORD SATURDAY

"I Was A Dancer You Know"

I heard her before I saw her. I was loading groceries into the back of my car as she approached, the wheels of her little shopping cart squeaking and squealing.

”Looks like snow” she said. I nodded, I was tired and had more errands to do and didn’t want to get into a conversation.

”Busy, busy, busy” she said as she got closer. I turned and stopped what I was doing. She was beautiful. Her smile was wide and open. Her eyes twinkled. She was impeccably dressed. Very pulled together as my Nana would have said.

Her shopping cart was full; it looked like it weighed more than she did.

“Do you need help?” I asked. “No, not at all” she responded. “I live right there”. She pointed toward the senior housing complex across from the shopping center. “It’s run by the church you know” she said and rolled her eyes. I laughed. “Are they any good at running a building?” I asked. She laughed even more, “what do you think?” she said.

We chatted for a bit about this and that – the cost of food, the Pope, the way people drive too fast at the crossing.

”I sound like an old lady” she suddenly exclaimed. I told her she didn’t sound or look like an old lady.

”I’m 92” she said proudly. My face must have really shown how shocked I was because she laughed out loud. “Do I look good for 92 or are you amazed that I’m still ticking?” she asked as she continued to laugh.

”Look good for 92! You look good for 62”

”I was a dancer you know. I was part of the Polish Dance Company back when I lived up north. Those were great days. I worked for a publishing firm for 38 years. After work I went to practice and on the weekends we did shows all over the state. And I would go to the dance clubs on Friday and Saturday nights. Those were the days”

“You move like a dancer” I told her. “You’re so graceful”.

The twinkle in her eye really danced as she asked “are you sure it’s the way I move, or is it my Chanel?”

“It is a Chanel” I said as though I had just uncovered a great secret. “It is, it’s an original tote bag. I’ve had it forever. Everything about me says forever”.

“Good taste and class are timeless” I said and then immediately thought I sounded patronizing.

“Oh thank you! You’re a dear girl”. I love being called a girl and she could see that I was delighted.

”Not many people stop for me” she said, “I’ve had a wonderful time talking to you”

She said she had a pot of soup waiting for her at home. She made soup from scratch twice a week and froze it. “Nothing like a good bowl of soup to warm the bones” she told me as she started to walk away.

I watched her until she crossed the road and was safely on the walk to her building.

This first meeting was back in January. I see her often now. We chat. She calls me dear or sweetheart. She introduced me to some of the other ladies from the building. One of them remembered that I had helped her when her cart broke.

“She’s a good girl” my Chanel toting friend said proudly. “You can always tell the good ones”.

Yesterday I passed their building and had to stop as there was a bus blocking the intersection. A long line of the ladies were boarding the bus for a trip to a Broadway show. I watched with amusement as the driver across from me bounced around in her seat looking annoyed. I rolled down my window and called out “have a great time, don’t get into too much trouble”

As the bus pulled up to clear the intersection I heard the ladies laughing and my heart felt good.

Living History

I got a wonderful e-mail in response to my Dr. King post.

My newest adopted daughter, a friend of my daughter-in-law, is a teacher. She asked me if she could share my childhood story of Martin with her students. One of her kids had mentioned that "without Dr. King you wouldn't be able to teach here". I guess she saw this click in her kids and wanted to encourage them to think about history and relate to it on a personal level.

And it got me thinking ...

I was seated behind two young girls during "Hairspray - the Movie" and they didn't believe that black kids and white kids were not allowed to dance together in the early days of American Bandstand. They thought it was just part of the storyline - a "way to give Queen Latifah something to sing about". When the house lights came on we smiled at one another and I assured them it was true, hard as it was for them to identify with, it was true. We had a nice conversation about then and now - I think they learned a little from me, I certainly gained new perspective from them.

And that got me thinking ...

I was in NYC's Greenwich Village a few years ago and I noticed a group of teens. They were a little rowdy, one had an open beer bottle, the others were just a bit too loud - and one couple was making out - on my car! Figures - the one time I find a free parking spot on the streets of NY. Even a few years ago my car was junky and I was going to walk on when a male couple passed holding hands. The teens got louder - mostly giggling and gasping and jostling each other and again I was going to walk on - kids will be kids. Then the male of the make-out couple said the "F" word and the female made some kissing noises and said she was "disgusted" and well - my inner "Norma Rae" came to life. As I walked over to the teens, under the pretext of opening my car, I mentioned to them that they should lose the beer bottle, there was a cop on the corner and I was sure he'd noticed them since they were so loud. I also told them that they were getting a lot of unwanted attention with the use of the "F" word. My plan worked, my looking out for them gained me their attention and appreciation. They apologized for being all over my car, I shrugged, said it was a piece of crap - no harm done. I asked the male of the make-out couple (he was black) whether he knew that, not that long ago, he would have been arrested (or worse) for kissing a white girl. "Well not today" he exclaimed - looking shocked and confused. True, true I told him, "and isn't that wonderful!" - "People fought and died for those civil rights". To his credit he caught on. "So the "F" word is as bad as the "N" word" he remarked. I told him I didn't know how to measure the words, they were all repugnant to me. I wasn't going to lecture (I really wanted to) - I was just asking him, all of them, if they had ever considered their place in a greater world. A world where other people didn't have the same rights as they did. A world where it was dangerous to show who you loved. "Never thought of that" - "My father says the "F" word all the time" - "We call each other gay". I don't know how much of a difference I made with those kids.

But I got them thinking ...

I had very negative role models in my parents. I often tell people I was "raised by wolves". One of the things that saved me was other adults - my Grandmother, the nosy but loving neighbor, a few inspiring teachers, Dr. King. By sharing themselves, by talking to me as a person they laid the foundation for a free thinking adult. They showed me my place in a greater world. They made something click for me by being there - being part of my history.

And so I realized ...

I followed their lead all these years. I rarely judge young people. I often try to share a moment, a tid-bit of my experience - to show them their place in a greater world - to hopefully make them feel how we are all connected and to give them, if even for a moment, the confidence and security to think outside the box of their homes, their schools, their friends, their environment.

There are so few tangible perks to getting older - the joints ache, the eyes get tired, stuff sags. BUT - the value of our place in the living history of younger folks can be immeasurable. I see it in the eyes of my VFW buddies - how good they feel when they share their stories with me and see me click on something I never considered before. Makes them feel young and important - makes me still see, at my ripe old age, how we all never stop learning.