I caught myself in a mirror as we enter The Lodge. Good God, I look like the perfect mountain woman with my hair frizzing in all directions. He puts his name on the waiting list and escorts me to the bar. He orders me a glass of Cab and he gets coffee. I mention my hair and he says softly, "You look beautiful." All right, Sammy. You are the man.
His name is called and we're given window seating. "I bet you made this reservation weeks ago," I tease. "Wasn't easy," he counters. I order chicken fried steak (this is how you know I am truly Southern) and he orders salmon.
The most eclectic conversation ensues. From the reasons for the spontaneous demonstrations in the streets all over the country after the slaying of Bin Laden to Sammy's research on lifestyle patterns in young adults to our joint abhorrence of violence in film, it just flows.
He knew I was a philosophy and religion major in college. What better way to get a broader world view than the narrow one I was raised with?
"Who's your favorite existentialist?" he wants to know.
"That's easy. Camus. Of course, he might argue he was not an existentialist but rather an absurdist."
"Favorite book?"
"L'Etranger. Camus embodies absurdism in the title character who appears to be indifferent to others but that is his form of free will. He has the will to do what he pleases and doesn't care what the world thinks about him. A stranger to society. I kind of related to that. At the time, I read it in French class, but my professor told me to drop French because I had such a thick Southern accent. What's your favorite?"
"Myth of Sisyphus. Again, his attempt to explain the absurdist condition. Most absurdists felt that man either had to take a leap of faith or conclude that life is meaningless. But, Camus was different because he felt that facing the absurd allows us to live life to its fullest extent, living a life of freedom and passion."
"Amen to that!"
Sammy was an anthropology major, but likes to read philosophy. Really? Who just reads philosophy for the "fun" of it?
"Did you read Being and Nothingness?" he asks.
"Sartre? Yes, where he articulates his existentialist philosophy, his study on the consciousness of being."
"Didn't understand a word of it."
"I was only 20 so probably thought I did. But, what did I know?"
By now, it was almost 8 o'clock, getting darker and foggier by the minute. I really wanted to stay for the clogging show but knew I had to make it back to the Washington Beltway where I was staying with friends.
The drive to my car was harrowing. How am I ever going to get back in this weather? He told me to follow him, he would lead me the 50 miles to the highway. I am so relieved. What a guy! I hug him.
"Thank you," I whisper.
He returned to Miami the next day, but he'll be back in a few weeks. Stay tuned.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Sammy Redux
And, so the arrangements for the Shenandoah date are made. This time, I'm traveling to him, about a two hour trek. My kids recoil, "You're meeting him alone in a forest?!" I admit, I go by my gut. Sometimes, I have amazing common sense and sometimes none at all. But, I'm feeling Sammy is cool. He's a college professor (or so he says). What could go wrong?
We talk on the phone everyday, he's raving about the scenic overlooks on the Blue Ridge Parkway and the sublime sunsets. He sends me multiple directions, insuring my arrival. We're going to be eating at The Lodge, the menu reminiscent of Franklin Roosevelt days with venison, fried chicken steak, fresh caught fish. Okay, I'm game, so to speak.
Then, I check the weather on my iPhone. Uh oh, awful. Pouring rain, thunderstorms, cold. Should we do this or meet in Manassas? I say, let's go for it. On my way, the sun achingly peeks through the thick clouds. Maybe, it'll be okay.
The last stretch is winding, country roads and the torrential downpour nearly blinds me. But I persevere. After all, I'm a Florida gal, torrential downpours are my specialty. I make it to the entrance to the Blue Ridge Parkway and pull over.
Have you ever driven it? My mother is the Queen of the Back Roads. We used to camp in the North Carolina mountains and she couldn't wait to get on the Blue Ridge Parkway. Isn't it beeyootiful? She'd exclaim over and over again. Yeah, yeah, yeah, it's gorgeous. But, my God, it probably takes six months to get from Virginia to North Carolina. For a fast driver like myself, it is TORTURE!!!
I'm here and he's not. I call his number. No service. Great. I call again. Same result. To his credit, he's calling me, too. Finally, I get one bar (AT&T, need I say more) and he's right behind me. I climb in his Isuzu truck and he's a lumberjack in jeans and corduroy shirt. Handsome, rugged, smiling to see me.
We're climbing and he's pointing out the overlooks. On a clear day, I'm sure they're spectacular but mainly we're in and out of low hanging clouds, lucky to see the road. The Lodge is very cozy with its massive stone fireplace; the dining room overlooking the valley below (at least, he told me there was a valley).
Ready to hike? Well, let me tell you, he was. He brought walking sticks and fleece jackets. He was worried I wouldn't be dressed warmly enough, so he brought one for me. I'm impressed. Of course, he was right. I was shivering in my thin rain jacket so I put on the fleece and it hung to my knees. Very sexy.
The sun came out briefly so we could do our two mile hike. All uphill to the overlook, which I have to admit was breathtaking. Although I hardly had any breath left from the steep climb. I needed the break, albeit brief, as there were other couples who wanted their alone time. The hike downhill was much easier and now, I'm sweating and have to shed the fleece. Sammy's just loving life. "You're such a good sport. My daughters call this the Death March."
Hmmm...maybe I should've listened to my kids!
We talk on the phone everyday, he's raving about the scenic overlooks on the Blue Ridge Parkway and the sublime sunsets. He sends me multiple directions, insuring my arrival. We're going to be eating at The Lodge, the menu reminiscent of Franklin Roosevelt days with venison, fried chicken steak, fresh caught fish. Okay, I'm game, so to speak.
Then, I check the weather on my iPhone. Uh oh, awful. Pouring rain, thunderstorms, cold. Should we do this or meet in Manassas? I say, let's go for it. On my way, the sun achingly peeks through the thick clouds. Maybe, it'll be okay.
The last stretch is winding, country roads and the torrential downpour nearly blinds me. But I persevere. After all, I'm a Florida gal, torrential downpours are my specialty. I make it to the entrance to the Blue Ridge Parkway and pull over.
Have you ever driven it? My mother is the Queen of the Back Roads. We used to camp in the North Carolina mountains and she couldn't wait to get on the Blue Ridge Parkway. Isn't it beeyootiful? She'd exclaim over and over again. Yeah, yeah, yeah, it's gorgeous. But, my God, it probably takes six months to get from Virginia to North Carolina. For a fast driver like myself, it is TORTURE!!!
I'm here and he's not. I call his number. No service. Great. I call again. Same result. To his credit, he's calling me, too. Finally, I get one bar (AT&T, need I say more) and he's right behind me. I climb in his Isuzu truck and he's a lumberjack in jeans and corduroy shirt. Handsome, rugged, smiling to see me.
We're climbing and he's pointing out the overlooks. On a clear day, I'm sure they're spectacular but mainly we're in and out of low hanging clouds, lucky to see the road. The Lodge is very cozy with its massive stone fireplace; the dining room overlooking the valley below (at least, he told me there was a valley).
Ready to hike? Well, let me tell you, he was. He brought walking sticks and fleece jackets. He was worried I wouldn't be dressed warmly enough, so he brought one for me. I'm impressed. Of course, he was right. I was shivering in my thin rain jacket so I put on the fleece and it hung to my knees. Very sexy.
The sun came out briefly so we could do our two mile hike. All uphill to the overlook, which I have to admit was breathtaking. Although I hardly had any breath left from the steep climb. I needed the break, albeit brief, as there were other couples who wanted their alone time. The hike downhill was much easier and now, I'm sweating and have to shed the fleece. Sammy's just loving life. "You're such a good sport. My daughters call this the Death March."
Hmmm...maybe I should've listened to my kids!
Anniversary Blues
May 22, 1982. My anniversary. Even 15 years after his passing, this day evokes both profound joy and sorrow.
Our wedding was a down home, backyard affair. We had a reporter-source relationship. I was the "fire brand" politician, ranting on the school system I was employed by; he was the new Education reporter. I could depend on his call everyday at 4 o'clock. A year later, our relationship became more serious, but we kept it secret because his editors thought it presented conflict of interest issues.
And, then, my period was late. So, in a flurry of activity, our friends hastily put together a pot luck wedding scheduled for the next weekend. One called the politicians, another called the reporters. What fun to hear their shock at the announcement! News spread like wild fire and people started calling to ask if they could come. Of course, just bring food.
I'm sure this was the cheapest wedding in history...we only paid for our gold bands. I wore the white linen suit he had given me for Christmas. No flowers, no photographer, no wedding organizer, no caterer.
I had been married before, he hadn't. He was 10 years my junior. He was black, I was white. He wanted children, I was hesitant. I didn't think I was good marriage material; he ignored me. I thought I had a future in politics; he wanted me to do whatever made me happy. And, then, in an instant on a Monday afternoon, my whole future was decided.
The wedding was an ecstatic affair. Beaming throughout the day, we listened to the uproarious toasts and speeches. And, then, escaped to Block Island to bask in the glow of each other.
Of course, it was not all sweetness and light. His mother begged him not to marry me; my parents didn't come. But, even though the odds looked bleak for success based on sociological studies, our marriage worked for us.
Somewhat amusing was the fact that my period started two days before the wedding! Our first child, a son, was born within the year and our second, a daughter, followed him by 20 months. We were the quintessential happy family for five years and then came the death sentence. Then, nothing mattered except loving each other, living in the moment and making memories for our children.
Here is the poem he wrote for me on our tenth anniversary:
She came to me
A curly-haired moppet
Ninety-nine pounds and granny glasses
And a moonbeam for a smile.
We became friends
And dared to be lovers
And in a moment so swift
We shelved our pasts
And let eternity stretch out before us.
She planted gardens
I pounded words
Time took off and carried us away
Births came like spring's renewal
Darkness, like a winter's blizzard.
But always in the darkness
I found the light of love
It grew like a garden
It erased the past
It reveled in the moment
And had a moonbeam for a smile.
Our wedding was a down home, backyard affair. We had a reporter-source relationship. I was the "fire brand" politician, ranting on the school system I was employed by; he was the new Education reporter. I could depend on his call everyday at 4 o'clock. A year later, our relationship became more serious, but we kept it secret because his editors thought it presented conflict of interest issues.
And, then, my period was late. So, in a flurry of activity, our friends hastily put together a pot luck wedding scheduled for the next weekend. One called the politicians, another called the reporters. What fun to hear their shock at the announcement! News spread like wild fire and people started calling to ask if they could come. Of course, just bring food.
I'm sure this was the cheapest wedding in history...we only paid for our gold bands. I wore the white linen suit he had given me for Christmas. No flowers, no photographer, no wedding organizer, no caterer.
I had been married before, he hadn't. He was 10 years my junior. He was black, I was white. He wanted children, I was hesitant. I didn't think I was good marriage material; he ignored me. I thought I had a future in politics; he wanted me to do whatever made me happy. And, then, in an instant on a Monday afternoon, my whole future was decided.
The wedding was an ecstatic affair. Beaming throughout the day, we listened to the uproarious toasts and speeches. And, then, escaped to Block Island to bask in the glow of each other.
Of course, it was not all sweetness and light. His mother begged him not to marry me; my parents didn't come. But, even though the odds looked bleak for success based on sociological studies, our marriage worked for us.
Somewhat amusing was the fact that my period started two days before the wedding! Our first child, a son, was born within the year and our second, a daughter, followed him by 20 months. We were the quintessential happy family for five years and then came the death sentence. Then, nothing mattered except loving each other, living in the moment and making memories for our children.
Here is the poem he wrote for me on our tenth anniversary:
She came to me
A curly-haired moppet
Ninety-nine pounds and granny glasses
And a moonbeam for a smile.
We became friends
And dared to be lovers
And in a moment so swift
We shelved our pasts
And let eternity stretch out before us.
She planted gardens
I pounded words
Time took off and carried us away
Births came like spring's renewal
Darkness, like a winter's blizzard.
But always in the darkness
I found the light of love
It grew like a garden
It erased the past
It reveled in the moment
And had a moonbeam for a smile.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
He's a Man
Okay, I know some of you found the question--What did your husband die of?--perfectly natural. And, you found his reaction--SHOCK--also perfectly natural. Fine. Agree, but you're not living my life. The question and response defines the future of the relationship. It weeds the men from the boys.
So, on a Thursday afternoon, I'm meeting Sammy to find out the answer. I'm sitting at the patio outside Wegman's, a Gucci supermarket for those not in the know. He's late. 2 for 2. Can that be a good sign?
I have an hour and a half until I have to leave for my Hospice Volunteer Training session. I'm patient. I'm rehearsed, thanks to my dear therapist. It's a warm, crisp day. I'm meditating in the sun.
Ahhh, there he is. He's casual, smiling. He looks even better the second time. He starts in on the traffic, the weather. He's terrible at chit chat. Susan was right about that. I wait, pleasantly, giving away nothing.
Finally, he gets to it. In the mid 80s, he worked as a counselor at an AIDS clinic in Miami. There wasn't much hope to mete out back then....no meds, no magic cocktails. (Tell me about it!) Evidently, he didn't last long.
"I had to process what you told me. I haven't known anyone who was so close to someone with AIDS." (Good God, I don't dare tell you about the rest of my family....we have been hit hard by this disease.)
"I confess it took me by surprise. I just thought it was a natural question and I never thought that would be the response. You're right, of course about the blood to blood transmission and there are people who escape it. And, obviously, you're one."
"I want to apologize to you for my reaction. All I can say is that you must be a very strong person to go through that."
Wow, I'm thinking, Susan was perfect. Did she nail you! "I'm guessing he would've worked through the angles and come to some conclusions. I'm thinking he's feeling chagrinned about how he reacted and wants to explain himself."
I thank him and he asks if I'd like some coffee and we drink and continue on our fledgling journey. Later, he asks if I'd like to join him for a hike and dinner at the Shenandoah National Park next week.
You betcha!
He's a man.
So, on a Thursday afternoon, I'm meeting Sammy to find out the answer. I'm sitting at the patio outside Wegman's, a Gucci supermarket for those not in the know. He's late. 2 for 2. Can that be a good sign?
I have an hour and a half until I have to leave for my Hospice Volunteer Training session. I'm patient. I'm rehearsed, thanks to my dear therapist. It's a warm, crisp day. I'm meditating in the sun.
Ahhh, there he is. He's casual, smiling. He looks even better the second time. He starts in on the traffic, the weather. He's terrible at chit chat. Susan was right about that. I wait, pleasantly, giving away nothing.
Finally, he gets to it. In the mid 80s, he worked as a counselor at an AIDS clinic in Miami. There wasn't much hope to mete out back then....no meds, no magic cocktails. (Tell me about it!) Evidently, he didn't last long.
"I had to process what you told me. I haven't known anyone who was so close to someone with AIDS." (Good God, I don't dare tell you about the rest of my family....we have been hit hard by this disease.)
"I confess it took me by surprise. I just thought it was a natural question and I never thought that would be the response. You're right, of course about the blood to blood transmission and there are people who escape it. And, obviously, you're one."
"I want to apologize to you for my reaction. All I can say is that you must be a very strong person to go through that."
Wow, I'm thinking, Susan was perfect. Did she nail you! "I'm guessing he would've worked through the angles and come to some conclusions. I'm thinking he's feeling chagrinned about how he reacted and wants to explain himself."
I thank him and he asks if I'd like some coffee and we drink and continue on our fledgling journey. Later, he asks if I'd like to join him for a hike and dinner at the Shenandoah National Park next week.
You betcha!
He's a man.
Raising My Vibration
WHAT?! She's raising her vibration? What the heck is she talking about?
In an earlier post, I referred to the Law of Attraction. There is a series written by Esther and Jerry Hicks, who represent the Teachings of Abraham, whose essential nugget of wisdom is the basis of life is freedom, the result of life is expansion--and the purpose of life is joy.
OMG, she's going WOO WOO on us. Yep, you're right.
There are a myriad of books on relationships out there but The Vortex in the Law of Attraction series is singularly the most important of them all, in my humble opinion.
And just who is Abraham? Abraham is actually a group of non-physical entities that speak through Esther to share their wisdom. And, through these entities, she is tapping into Infinite Intelligence aka Source, Spirit, God. It boils down to the belief that people create their own reality through their thoughts, and emotions are constantly guiding people toward where they want to go.
The Law of Attraction says you attract what vibration you are sending out. Need attracts need. Positive attracts positive. Negative attracts negative. Like attracts like. All relationships are vibrational requests.
"You were born with a personal Guidance System to help you know when you are diverging from your prebirth understanding of life and when you are on track." It's this Guidance System that helps you to reconnect with who you really are. Your personal Guidance System helps you to establish harmony and alignment with yourself and others, and, ultimately, Source.
And, so I constantly ask myself, what is the vibration I sent out that brought me John? Obviously, I have a need and he fulfills that on some level. But, how does it make me feel? Does it affirm my power? Do I feel in harmony? Does it bring me closer to who I really am?
I always felt a connection there and Edith certainly confirmed that. But, she also confirmed my path. My path asks that I practice non-judgment or, at the very least, work toward that. I try not to judge John. I accept that he practices polyamory and he is clearly more communicative and self-aware because of it.
But, I also confess to having a moral code and being pretty in touch with my personal Guidance System. And, this has moved me toward judgment.
Several weeks ago when John and I were out of town at a bridge tournament, his beekeeper lover had unprotected sex with her other boyfriend, which sent him through the roof. (She hadn't consulted with him first--very important if you have multiple sex partners) But, after much drama, he forgave her.
Later, I learned her boyfriend lost his son and then his marriage within the year. My head is spinning over this. I am in pain for this man.
I asked John about her choice. "The Law of Attraction," he responds cavalierly.
"But, he's so fragile," I say. John has absolutely no idea of the visceral reaction I'm having.
"So is she." And, I'm thinking....this woman is a psychotherapist whose career is helping others make good choices and she opts to get revenge on her boyfriend with this fragile soul. Polyamory? Sorry. This is not coming from a place of love. She doesn't love this man. No, this is EXPLOITATION, NEED, DESPERATION. The Law of Attraction at work.
It makes me sick to my stomach. It's unconscionable. My vibration is too low. I have to go higher.
In an earlier post, I referred to the Law of Attraction. There is a series written by Esther and Jerry Hicks, who represent the Teachings of Abraham, whose essential nugget of wisdom is the basis of life is freedom, the result of life is expansion--and the purpose of life is joy.
OMG, she's going WOO WOO on us. Yep, you're right.
There are a myriad of books on relationships out there but The Vortex in the Law of Attraction series is singularly the most important of them all, in my humble opinion.
And just who is Abraham? Abraham is actually a group of non-physical entities that speak through Esther to share their wisdom. And, through these entities, she is tapping into Infinite Intelligence aka Source, Spirit, God. It boils down to the belief that people create their own reality through their thoughts, and emotions are constantly guiding people toward where they want to go.
The Law of Attraction says you attract what vibration you are sending out. Need attracts need. Positive attracts positive. Negative attracts negative. Like attracts like. All relationships are vibrational requests.
"You were born with a personal Guidance System to help you know when you are diverging from your prebirth understanding of life and when you are on track." It's this Guidance System that helps you to reconnect with who you really are. Your personal Guidance System helps you to establish harmony and alignment with yourself and others, and, ultimately, Source.
And, so I constantly ask myself, what is the vibration I sent out that brought me John? Obviously, I have a need and he fulfills that on some level. But, how does it make me feel? Does it affirm my power? Do I feel in harmony? Does it bring me closer to who I really am?
I always felt a connection there and Edith certainly confirmed that. But, she also confirmed my path. My path asks that I practice non-judgment or, at the very least, work toward that. I try not to judge John. I accept that he practices polyamory and he is clearly more communicative and self-aware because of it.
But, I also confess to having a moral code and being pretty in touch with my personal Guidance System. And, this has moved me toward judgment.
Several weeks ago when John and I were out of town at a bridge tournament, his beekeeper lover had unprotected sex with her other boyfriend, which sent him through the roof. (She hadn't consulted with him first--very important if you have multiple sex partners) But, after much drama, he forgave her.
Later, I learned her boyfriend lost his son and then his marriage within the year. My head is spinning over this. I am in pain for this man.
I asked John about her choice. "The Law of Attraction," he responds cavalierly.
"But, he's so fragile," I say. John has absolutely no idea of the visceral reaction I'm having.
"So is she." And, I'm thinking....this woman is a psychotherapist whose career is helping others make good choices and she opts to get revenge on her boyfriend with this fragile soul. Polyamory? Sorry. This is not coming from a place of love. She doesn't love this man. No, this is EXPLOITATION, NEED, DESPERATION. The Law of Attraction at work.
It makes me sick to my stomach. It's unconscionable. My vibration is too low. I have to go higher.
Apologies to Edith
I confess to seeing John, Edith's son. Edith came to John and me through a medium at the spiritualist church and who made it clear that she preferred my path to his, the world of polyamory.
I confess to not only understanding but also being attracted to the concept of polyamory. Is it possible to love more than one child? of course. Is it possible to love more than one friend? Of course.
But, the reality as opposed to the concept does not appeal to me at all. In my world, it's a giant step backwards. I lived in communes, "loving" multiple people. I will add that I was on a never ending roller coaster of emotions that evoked the very worst in me.
This, I am not proud of. Years ago, one of my lovers told me about a liaison he had and I cut up all his clothes, tossed them outside in the snow and covered them with our dinner. His actions were provoked by my own affair and, strangely enough, we stayed together for the short haul, at least.
I'm a little more mature these days, and drama no longer interests me. Of course, John would challenge my truth, arguing that I could grow deeper through confronting jealousy. But, why? Quite frankly, I would rather walk away and leave those dramas to others. Let me put my energies into being a hospice volunteer or reading metaphysics or writing poetry or deepening my friendships.
Most of my loves burst into a bright flame of early attraction and extinguished just as quickly. The greatest love I ever knew was calm, true, devoid of drama, constant and based on trust and friendship.
I am talking about my late husband, who died of AIDS. And, I know you're asking, how could that relationship be devoid of drama? If that's not drama, what is? I understand your question, but there was no drama because of the complete devotion we had to each other. Friends asked me if I was going to leave him when they learned he was ill. How strange, i thought. Would he leave me if I was sick? Never. Is there a greater gift than helping someone prepare for the afterlife?
I had a past; he had a past. We accepted that and moved into the future together with a Great Faith that eclipsed all the tragedy that confronted our carefully constructed cocoon. The Great Faith triumphed.
So, Edith, I know you're here, I love your presence, I know you're trying, but I'm raising my vibration.
I confess to not only understanding but also being attracted to the concept of polyamory. Is it possible to love more than one child? of course. Is it possible to love more than one friend? Of course.
But, the reality as opposed to the concept does not appeal to me at all. In my world, it's a giant step backwards. I lived in communes, "loving" multiple people. I will add that I was on a never ending roller coaster of emotions that evoked the very worst in me.
This, I am not proud of. Years ago, one of my lovers told me about a liaison he had and I cut up all his clothes, tossed them outside in the snow and covered them with our dinner. His actions were provoked by my own affair and, strangely enough, we stayed together for the short haul, at least.
I'm a little more mature these days, and drama no longer interests me. Of course, John would challenge my truth, arguing that I could grow deeper through confronting jealousy. But, why? Quite frankly, I would rather walk away and leave those dramas to others. Let me put my energies into being a hospice volunteer or reading metaphysics or writing poetry or deepening my friendships.
Most of my loves burst into a bright flame of early attraction and extinguished just as quickly. The greatest love I ever knew was calm, true, devoid of drama, constant and based on trust and friendship.
I am talking about my late husband, who died of AIDS. And, I know you're asking, how could that relationship be devoid of drama? If that's not drama, what is? I understand your question, but there was no drama because of the complete devotion we had to each other. Friends asked me if I was going to leave him when they learned he was ill. How strange, i thought. Would he leave me if I was sick? Never. Is there a greater gift than helping someone prepare for the afterlife?
I had a past; he had a past. We accepted that and moved into the future together with a Great Faith that eclipsed all the tragedy that confronted our carefully constructed cocoon. The Great Faith triumphed.
So, Edith, I know you're here, I love your presence, I know you're trying, but I'm raising my vibration.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Susan On Sammy
"Jeez, I really thought he'd be further along on his path," I lament to Susan, after describing our date. "He's a psychologist." The truth is, like you, my readers, I thought this could go somewhere. But, getting ahead of myself is an issue I struggle with. So, you would think after the life I've lived, living in the moment would be my tao. But, like anything, it's an evolution.
On Mother's Day, I got an email from Sammy. After the positive greetings and best wishes, he writes:
"It took me some time to process our time together. I needed to sort some things out. I was wondering if you would like to have a quiet lunch or dinner at a dull and uninteresting place so we could talk without sitting between bunches of tables full of animated people. I would like to get some closure on some things that were not so clear Friday night."
There are two things that stand out for me here. One, he's hard of hearing. Noise and animation is a problem. Maybe, he's thinking he didn't hear me right. Did you really say your husband died of AIDS? Actually, that's probably the one thing he did hear! Second, he wants to get closure??!! WHAT?! Closure? Are we open? If he wants closure, why bother getting together at all? We can close without a face to face. No problem there.
But, Susan's not put off at all. "I think it sounds like he's struggling with himself. That's not the worst news. Some men would be closed, provincial and not bother to look inside himself. It's interesting that he wants to meet rather than a phone call. It sounds like he's led a rather mainstream life."
"He made a comment about me leading a life on the edge."
"He sounds like he's led his life with his head in the sand. Was there anything redeeming?"
"Physically fit, employed, attractive, intelligent, but rather closed."
"I think it's a credit to him that he wants to discuss it some more. How did you feel other than annoyed?"
"I didn't get a connection, I didn't pick up much warmth. I don't have a feeling one way or the other. I'm trying to keep an open mind. His presence didn't bring out my sense of humor, but first dates are ridiculously weird anyway. I'm afraid that when I meet him again, I'll be on the defensive."
"I'm guessing you won't because he's a psychologist. He would have worked the angles through himself and have come to some conclusions. I'm guessing he's feeling chagrinned that he reacted as he did or he wouldn't have pursued a second meeting. He wants to explain himself. There are more evolved men in that grouping."
"Well, if you're me and this is your reality, it's pretty daunting to come up against such a negative reaction when you're just trying to get on with your life."
"Negative? Or shock? I think he just didn't know what to do with it."
"But, what a question to ask on a first date!"
"He's a psychologist. I just don't think he's comfortable with chit chat. He went right to the heavier stuff. He does direct clinical work so he's used to asking penetrating questions. So, when you meet, give him the opportunity to explain himself but you be ready, too. Remember, this goes both ways. Let's role play. I want you to have a game plan. I'll be him, you be you."
Susan: "I wanted to let you know that I was taken aback by the cause of death of your late husband. I haven't ever dated someone that has been exposed to AIDS. So, I've been looking into myself and realized I had a negative reaction to that. It's bothered me a great deal."
Me: "You and I got off to a nice start. I thought we had good communication before we met and I was wondering how a guy as urbane and educated as you comes across as so provincial? I'm amazed at that. I was wondering how you could be so sheltered. I felt you withdraw. I thought that was not an appropriate first date question."
"You're ready. Stay self-affirming. Be positive. You have incredible stamina. I can't wait for the next chapter. Email me."
God, you'd think this was another episode on One Life To Live.
On Mother's Day, I got an email from Sammy. After the positive greetings and best wishes, he writes:
"It took me some time to process our time together. I needed to sort some things out. I was wondering if you would like to have a quiet lunch or dinner at a dull and uninteresting place so we could talk without sitting between bunches of tables full of animated people. I would like to get some closure on some things that were not so clear Friday night."
There are two things that stand out for me here. One, he's hard of hearing. Noise and animation is a problem. Maybe, he's thinking he didn't hear me right. Did you really say your husband died of AIDS? Actually, that's probably the one thing he did hear! Second, he wants to get closure??!! WHAT?! Closure? Are we open? If he wants closure, why bother getting together at all? We can close without a face to face. No problem there.
But, Susan's not put off at all. "I think it sounds like he's struggling with himself. That's not the worst news. Some men would be closed, provincial and not bother to look inside himself. It's interesting that he wants to meet rather than a phone call. It sounds like he's led a rather mainstream life."
"He made a comment about me leading a life on the edge."
"He sounds like he's led his life with his head in the sand. Was there anything redeeming?"
"Physically fit, employed, attractive, intelligent, but rather closed."
"I think it's a credit to him that he wants to discuss it some more. How did you feel other than annoyed?"
"I didn't get a connection, I didn't pick up much warmth. I don't have a feeling one way or the other. I'm trying to keep an open mind. His presence didn't bring out my sense of humor, but first dates are ridiculously weird anyway. I'm afraid that when I meet him again, I'll be on the defensive."
"I'm guessing you won't because he's a psychologist. He would have worked the angles through himself and have come to some conclusions. I'm guessing he's feeling chagrinned that he reacted as he did or he wouldn't have pursued a second meeting. He wants to explain himself. There are more evolved men in that grouping."
"Well, if you're me and this is your reality, it's pretty daunting to come up against such a negative reaction when you're just trying to get on with your life."
"Negative? Or shock? I think he just didn't know what to do with it."
"But, what a question to ask on a first date!"
"He's a psychologist. I just don't think he's comfortable with chit chat. He went right to the heavier stuff. He does direct clinical work so he's used to asking penetrating questions. So, when you meet, give him the opportunity to explain himself but you be ready, too. Remember, this goes both ways. Let's role play. I want you to have a game plan. I'll be him, you be you."
Susan: "I wanted to let you know that I was taken aback by the cause of death of your late husband. I haven't ever dated someone that has been exposed to AIDS. So, I've been looking into myself and realized I had a negative reaction to that. It's bothered me a great deal."
Me: "You and I got off to a nice start. I thought we had good communication before we met and I was wondering how a guy as urbane and educated as you comes across as so provincial? I'm amazed at that. I was wondering how you could be so sheltered. I felt you withdraw. I thought that was not an appropriate first date question."
"You're ready. Stay self-affirming. Be positive. You have incredible stamina. I can't wait for the next chapter. Email me."
God, you'd think this was another episode on One Life To Live.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Match!
Thank God, I get my fair share of matches everyday from my online dating sites. Otherwise, I'd be pretty discouraged after my rendezvous with Sammy. But I will remain optimistic! These sites are setting me up with guys that match my criteria.
So, when I get PoppaJon, I perk right up! He's local. I'm so tired of getting these matches in New Jersey, New York, New England. Isn't there anyone I could just go to the movies with???
"Like you, he enjoys dining out, is a widower and likes the Blues." He describes his ethnicity as Asian, Latino, Native American, Pacific Islander and Caucasian. Jeez..practically the whole United Nations in one man!
So, what does PoppaJon have to say IN HIS OWN WORDS??
"I am coming off a 42 year relationship. I live with my 42 year old son. I am divorced once and a widower once. (He says he's 60 and I'm trying to do the math but it's not adding up). I'm looking for a kind, considerate woman that doesn't tell lies, do things behind my back or not tell me about relationships current or past. (Just a little baggage.) I enjoy talking things over. I NEED A LIVE-IN, LOVING MAID."
Oh, yeah...that's my guy. Perfect. Where's the broom? I know how to clean! I think I'll Wink him...
NOT!!!
SUSAN!!?? HELP!
So, when I get PoppaJon, I perk right up! He's local. I'm so tired of getting these matches in New Jersey, New York, New England. Isn't there anyone I could just go to the movies with???
"Like you, he enjoys dining out, is a widower and likes the Blues." He describes his ethnicity as Asian, Latino, Native American, Pacific Islander and Caucasian. Jeez..practically the whole United Nations in one man!
So, what does PoppaJon have to say IN HIS OWN WORDS??
"I am coming off a 42 year relationship. I live with my 42 year old son. I am divorced once and a widower once. (He says he's 60 and I'm trying to do the math but it's not adding up). I'm looking for a kind, considerate woman that doesn't tell lies, do things behind my back or not tell me about relationships current or past. (Just a little baggage.) I enjoy talking things over. I NEED A LIVE-IN, LOVING MAID."
Oh, yeah...that's my guy. Perfect. Where's the broom? I know how to clean! I think I'll Wink him...
NOT!!!
SUSAN!!?? HELP!
Joyous
Best Mother's Day Ever. I know you've heard this before but I LOVE MY KIDS! And, you also know my relationship with my own mom has been a struggle. But, on May 8th, all the planets were aligned to make my world right.
Many women artists have had difficult relationships with their moms. We just don't fit the mold they intended for us. But, I'm not satisfied. I don't want this barrier between us. I want to get to forgiveness; I want to get to unconditional love. I made stabs at writing her letters...too bitter, too angry. That's just not me. Instead, I ordered a book for her from Amazon.com. The newest in the Ann B. Ross Miss Julia series, Miss Julia Rocks the Cradle. The following week, I got the sweetest thank you note, written and signed with love. (You know southern women have to send thank you notes!) I called her early on Mother's Day. She was crying, explaining she had just had the most beautiful dream about the whole family--the living and those in spirit--coming together for Mother's Day. She loved the card I sent her, "It blessed me," she said. When she asked what was new on my horizon, I told her I was being trained to be a hospice volunteer. "You were born to do that." I was moved.
Later that morning, my son, daughter and her fiance, came to put together brunch for a queen. We start with mimosas...well, I AM a native Floridian so we must have orange juice! I'm watching my daugher and future son-in-law in the kitchen, working side by side in a happy rhythm I can only marvel at. My son, yelling at the TV, as his favorite English soccer team, Chelsea, is getting skunked by Manchester United. "I've watched this entire season and they lose the most important game!"
We move to the sun-soaked deck, piling our plates with omelets and grits. Yes, they made grits in my honor! GRITS=Girls Raised In The South....you've seen that at Cracker Barrel, right? But, I can barely eat, I'm nervous.
We're running late. They get up to clean the kitchen and tell me to go to Bethesda, they'll be ten minutes behind me. Remember? The Mother's Day Poetry and Prose Open Mic Reading at The Writer's Center. I haven't done this in over 30 years. The night before I narrowed my selections, timing and practicing the three I chose.
I sign up. "Five minutes." That means I can only read one. Dwayne. Within thirty minutes the room fills. My son and daughter, sitting on either side of me. I ask her to videotape me with my cell phone. Ten readers. It becomes clear that these are truly gifted writers, most having published books. The performance poets are delightfully dramatic.
Then, it's my turn. I can't wait to get up there! Yeah, my legs are a little shaky but my voice is strong. I start and it just tumbles out of me. It was comic relief, sort of a welcome respite in the sea of emotional turbulence. The audience laughed in the right places, the applause so worth the scariness.
Afterwards, my son and drive home with the top down, the wind blowing us like free spirits, racing to beat the imminent storm.
But, the piece de resistance was watching the video later and hearing the adorable giggles coming from my girl as she was taping. She's the one who complains about TMI but sends it to her friends...lol.
Life is joyous!
Many women artists have had difficult relationships with their moms. We just don't fit the mold they intended for us. But, I'm not satisfied. I don't want this barrier between us. I want to get to forgiveness; I want to get to unconditional love. I made stabs at writing her letters...too bitter, too angry. That's just not me. Instead, I ordered a book for her from Amazon.com. The newest in the Ann B. Ross Miss Julia series, Miss Julia Rocks the Cradle. The following week, I got the sweetest thank you note, written and signed with love. (You know southern women have to send thank you notes!) I called her early on Mother's Day. She was crying, explaining she had just had the most beautiful dream about the whole family--the living and those in spirit--coming together for Mother's Day. She loved the card I sent her, "It blessed me," she said. When she asked what was new on my horizon, I told her I was being trained to be a hospice volunteer. "You were born to do that." I was moved.
Later that morning, my son, daughter and her fiance, came to put together brunch for a queen. We start with mimosas...well, I AM a native Floridian so we must have orange juice! I'm watching my daugher and future son-in-law in the kitchen, working side by side in a happy rhythm I can only marvel at. My son, yelling at the TV, as his favorite English soccer team, Chelsea, is getting skunked by Manchester United. "I've watched this entire season and they lose the most important game!"
We move to the sun-soaked deck, piling our plates with omelets and grits. Yes, they made grits in my honor! GRITS=Girls Raised In The South....you've seen that at Cracker Barrel, right? But, I can barely eat, I'm nervous.
We're running late. They get up to clean the kitchen and tell me to go to Bethesda, they'll be ten minutes behind me. Remember? The Mother's Day Poetry and Prose Open Mic Reading at The Writer's Center. I haven't done this in over 30 years. The night before I narrowed my selections, timing and practicing the three I chose.
I sign up. "Five minutes." That means I can only read one. Dwayne. Within thirty minutes the room fills. My son and daughter, sitting on either side of me. I ask her to videotape me with my cell phone. Ten readers. It becomes clear that these are truly gifted writers, most having published books. The performance poets are delightfully dramatic.
Then, it's my turn. I can't wait to get up there! Yeah, my legs are a little shaky but my voice is strong. I start and it just tumbles out of me. It was comic relief, sort of a welcome respite in the sea of emotional turbulence. The audience laughed in the right places, the applause so worth the scariness.
Afterwards, my son and drive home with the top down, the wind blowing us like free spirits, racing to beat the imminent storm.
But, the piece de resistance was watching the video later and hearing the adorable giggles coming from my girl as she was taping. She's the one who complains about TMI but sends it to her friends...lol.
Life is joyous!
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
I Meet Sammy
Good Grief! Such interest in a first date! LOL, but, of course, I have created the intrigue. Great Expectations. So much for living in the moment. I have to laugh at the texts coming in asking how it is going. I turn off the phone so as not to turn him off.
It's tapas and the film festival...rather artsy and avant garde...complete with the fabulous John Waters and the beautiful Austrian director, Patric Chiha, hosting Patric's extraordinary movie, Domaine.
We meet a Tapas Teatro for small plates and a glass of sangria for me; he doesn't drink. Fine. He's fit, rather tall, nice looking. Light chatter, families and jobs. I'm interested in what courses he teaches and what kind of clinical work he's involved in...remember, he's a psychology prof. His field work is in an alternative school in Miami, working with kids and families. Cool. I think back to my urban teaching days and totally understand what he's up against.
Then, there's the class he teaches on the movements from the 60s..Vietnam War, Civil Rights Movement leading to the Women's Movement...and I realize I'm his student and I'm getting the lecture. HELLO???!! LIKE I WASN'T THERE??!! I lived in the communes, did my share of drug recreation, grew organic before there was "organic," made the most delicious dill pickles ever! I tie-dyed all of my baby's t-shirts, sewed peace symbols onto her overalls.
Okay, I'm chillin.' Not being judgmental...I tell myself he's nervous and is just reciting what is familiar to him. We enter The Charles Theatre and there is Mr. John Waters who looks amazingly healthy..sometimes, he looks a bit emaciated and waiting at death's door. But, not tonight. He introduces the director who is a gorgeous male specimen--very young, early 30s probably. The film is French and slowly builds the relationship between a 40 year old female mathematician and her 17 year old nephew. Not sexual but sensual; the balance of power changes dramatically as she drowns herself in booze and the nephew emerges from embryo to adult.
Sammy likes it and we return to Tapas to talk it over. But, quickly, the talk becomes centered on past relationships and lives. Oh, dear. His first wife was his high school sweetheart, the mother of his two daughters, a 29 year marriage. I ask how many wives he's had? He replies, "7." "Ohhh, just like Liz Taylor," I counter. We laugh and he goes on to tell me his second marriage to a colleague lasted 10 years before it ended last year.
Then, it's my turn. I tell him about my college love, the marriage lasting four years, the friendship forever. I explain I was married to my second husband for 15 years until he passed. "Oh? What did he die of?"
I'm thinking...You Are Not Really Going There, Are You? This is a first date, for God's sake!
"AIDS."
"Do you have it?"
WHAT???!!! DO YOU THINK I WOULD BE SITTING HERE WITH YOU?
"Of course not." I reply calmly.
He is obviously in shock. The evening's over. We shake hands.
It's tapas and the film festival...rather artsy and avant garde...complete with the fabulous John Waters and the beautiful Austrian director, Patric Chiha, hosting Patric's extraordinary movie, Domaine.
We meet a Tapas Teatro for small plates and a glass of sangria for me; he doesn't drink. Fine. He's fit, rather tall, nice looking. Light chatter, families and jobs. I'm interested in what courses he teaches and what kind of clinical work he's involved in...remember, he's a psychology prof. His field work is in an alternative school in Miami, working with kids and families. Cool. I think back to my urban teaching days and totally understand what he's up against.
Then, there's the class he teaches on the movements from the 60s..Vietnam War, Civil Rights Movement leading to the Women's Movement...and I realize I'm his student and I'm getting the lecture. HELLO???!! LIKE I WASN'T THERE??!! I lived in the communes, did my share of drug recreation, grew organic before there was "organic," made the most delicious dill pickles ever! I tie-dyed all of my baby's t-shirts, sewed peace symbols onto her overalls.
Okay, I'm chillin.' Not being judgmental...I tell myself he's nervous and is just reciting what is familiar to him. We enter The Charles Theatre and there is Mr. John Waters who looks amazingly healthy..sometimes, he looks a bit emaciated and waiting at death's door. But, not tonight. He introduces the director who is a gorgeous male specimen--very young, early 30s probably. The film is French and slowly builds the relationship between a 40 year old female mathematician and her 17 year old nephew. Not sexual but sensual; the balance of power changes dramatically as she drowns herself in booze and the nephew emerges from embryo to adult.
Sammy likes it and we return to Tapas to talk it over. But, quickly, the talk becomes centered on past relationships and lives. Oh, dear. His first wife was his high school sweetheart, the mother of his two daughters, a 29 year marriage. I ask how many wives he's had? He replies, "7." "Ohhh, just like Liz Taylor," I counter. We laugh and he goes on to tell me his second marriage to a colleague lasted 10 years before it ended last year.
Then, it's my turn. I tell him about my college love, the marriage lasting four years, the friendship forever. I explain I was married to my second husband for 15 years until he passed. "Oh? What did he die of?"
I'm thinking...You Are Not Really Going There, Are You? This is a first date, for God's sake!
"AIDS."
"Do you have it?"
WHAT???!!! DO YOU THINK I WOULD BE SITTING HERE WITH YOU?
"Of course not." I reply calmly.
He is obviously in shock. The evening's over. We shake hands.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
I Called Sammy
You may recall that Susan, my psychotherapist/love coach, gave me a not so gentle nudge to talk to Miami Sammy before our meeting. In his next email after my pep talk with Susan, he included his cell number.
"Thank you for your number. Would you like to talk before we meet? I'm driving to New England on Saturday. Maybe, you could keep me company for part of the trip."
Okay, I put it out there....scary, but I did it. Thirty minutes later I get his response. "It would be great to talk to you." Great. Wow. We connected Saturday and talked, after some initial unease, for two hours straight.
There's a lot of synchronicity. He raised his two daughters in Miami but they settled in Maryland where most of the rest of his family live. Both daughters are married, he has one grandson. One daughter lives about five blocks from my kids in Baltimore; the other daughter lived in my town until a month ago and he's spent a lot of time here. He had a place outside Asheville, North Carolina, not far from my mom.
It was comfortable. There was much to say and, yet, never touched our past relationships or politics or religion. I have no expectations; it's a beginning. I try to live in the moment.
We're meeting for lunch in two days and added Friday night to our agenda. John Waters is coming to town! Baltimore's very own legend. Sammy wants to see him, too. Maybe, he's a little quirky like me....well, he is a psych prof.
I emailed Susan. Her response?
Dear Life Dancer,
Parallel lives are so cooool! I think lunch is gonna be a prelude to a sumptuous dinner. Just remember we must move verrry slowly to the dessert.!
Forgive me, I think I've had too much Bruno on Dancing With the Stars. lol
Hugs,
Susan
Uh oh...I just looked at the clock. He's landing at Dulles right now. I've got the butterflies. No dessert Friday. I signed the Love In Ninety Days Contract. I will be in control.
"Thank you for your number. Would you like to talk before we meet? I'm driving to New England on Saturday. Maybe, you could keep me company for part of the trip."
Okay, I put it out there....scary, but I did it. Thirty minutes later I get his response. "It would be great to talk to you." Great. Wow. We connected Saturday and talked, after some initial unease, for two hours straight.
There's a lot of synchronicity. He raised his two daughters in Miami but they settled in Maryland where most of the rest of his family live. Both daughters are married, he has one grandson. One daughter lives about five blocks from my kids in Baltimore; the other daughter lived in my town until a month ago and he's spent a lot of time here. He had a place outside Asheville, North Carolina, not far from my mom.
It was comfortable. There was much to say and, yet, never touched our past relationships or politics or religion. I have no expectations; it's a beginning. I try to live in the moment.
We're meeting for lunch in two days and added Friday night to our agenda. John Waters is coming to town! Baltimore's very own legend. Sammy wants to see him, too. Maybe, he's a little quirky like me....well, he is a psych prof.
I emailed Susan. Her response?
Dear Life Dancer,
Parallel lives are so cooool! I think lunch is gonna be a prelude to a sumptuous dinner. Just remember we must move verrry slowly to the dessert.!
Forgive me, I think I've had too much Bruno on Dancing With the Stars. lol
Hugs,
Susan
Uh oh...I just looked at the clock. He's landing at Dulles right now. I've got the butterflies. No dessert Friday. I signed the Love In Ninety Days Contract. I will be in control.
You Tell Me Now?
After I posted last week, I heard from my high school sweetheart, Will. A year older than me, much wiser in the ways of the world, a brainiac with an impressive vocabulary, nerdy but much cooler. My humor requirement came from him. Like all upstanding Southern teens, we met at church. He was Baptist. I was Presbyterian, but, he showed up at a youth event with one of this friends. He appeared a lot more after our initial meeting.
For two years until he left for college, we shared a joy reserved for a first love. It's still there, I think, although we haven't seen each other in decades. Bless his heart, he's happily married to his college love. I was incredibly naive at 15; he was hilariously irreverent. I was intimidated by his wit; he significantly expanded my thinking and vocabulary. He used the word, 'erudite.' I'll never forget that--a 16 year old!!
Naturally, my mother thoroughly disliked him. She liked to flirt with my boyfriends, engaging them in conversation long after I'd called it a night. Will was having none of that.
After posting Mother-Daughter Relationship, he wrote: "I bet I could add some dimension to the description of your mother. She never really cared for me. Be safe."
Me: "She never really cared for me either. Thought you could relate to that one."
Will: "I was going to put that in my email, but felt it was presumptuous. She was always jealous of you."
Me: "OMG! I cannot believe you said that! I just never really got that until very recently. You couldn't have told me that 50 years ago?"
His people judgment was always spot on. I saw the world through rose-colored glasses. How could a mother be jealous of a daughter? Never crossed my mind. But, years of self-destructive behavior, ragged relationships, and, finally, some tough love counseling brought me right there. And, I'm okay.
In fact, I'm who I am because she's who she is. I love her for that.
Will: "I should've told you but, at one point, you signaled that you were fine and that was all I cared about."
Me: "I'm still evolving but, God knows, I've had one helluva life."
Will: "You are the finest, no need to ever beat yourself up again. Let it come to you, it will."
Is that beautiful?! I had to tear up when I read that.
Me: "If the man thing doesn't work out, I'll settle for a beach house in Florida."
Will: "Less upkeep."
For two years until he left for college, we shared a joy reserved for a first love. It's still there, I think, although we haven't seen each other in decades. Bless his heart, he's happily married to his college love. I was incredibly naive at 15; he was hilariously irreverent. I was intimidated by his wit; he significantly expanded my thinking and vocabulary. He used the word, 'erudite.' I'll never forget that--a 16 year old!!
Naturally, my mother thoroughly disliked him. She liked to flirt with my boyfriends, engaging them in conversation long after I'd called it a night. Will was having none of that.
After posting Mother-Daughter Relationship, he wrote: "I bet I could add some dimension to the description of your mother. She never really cared for me. Be safe."
Me: "She never really cared for me either. Thought you could relate to that one."
Will: "I was going to put that in my email, but felt it was presumptuous. She was always jealous of you."
Me: "OMG! I cannot believe you said that! I just never really got that until very recently. You couldn't have told me that 50 years ago?"
His people judgment was always spot on. I saw the world through rose-colored glasses. How could a mother be jealous of a daughter? Never crossed my mind. But, years of self-destructive behavior, ragged relationships, and, finally, some tough love counseling brought me right there. And, I'm okay.
In fact, I'm who I am because she's who she is. I love her for that.
Will: "I should've told you but, at one point, you signaled that you were fine and that was all I cared about."
Me: "I'm still evolving but, God knows, I've had one helluva life."
Will: "You are the finest, no need to ever beat yourself up again. Let it come to you, it will."
Is that beautiful?! I had to tear up when I read that.
Me: "If the man thing doesn't work out, I'll settle for a beach house in Florida."
Will: "Less upkeep."
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Tribute to Michael
I got lucky this weekend...not in the sense you think!!! I was one of about 40 celebrants at the most amazing 60th birthday party I'm sure ever given. Out in the scenic Connecticut countryside on the warmest day of the year, so far, my dear friend, Dee, was feted by her significant other, Michael.
Theirs is a fascinating coming together. With their former mates, they sat in the same row at the local theatre, never knowing each other. Their relationships ended about the same time and they happened to be sitting together with other friends at the theatre. Michael's friend introduced Dee; they knew each other through law circles. He called her the next day and the next and the next. His enthusiasm smacked right up against her resistance. He talks too much, he's way too ADHD, he's got a few extra pounds. Michael? He sees not one flaw in this woman. He adores her. From Day One.
He totally wore her down. They both are well educated, accomplished in their respective fields. Did I mention he's the most amazing cook??!! How does that go? A way to a man's heart is through his stomach? And vice versa, evidently.
Her former husband carped about her weight (which was perfect), her style (not tight enough), her looks (he wanted her to wear make up to bed). Just never enough. You would think he was all that...which he WAS NOT! But, Michael doesn't care if she wears clogs with her silk nightgown or curlers in her hair at the grocery store or forgets to put on her bright red lipstick, takes five years to decide on the living room color or nags at him a little bit. He wakes up everyday with, "Good morning, my Venus. How is the love of my life?"
Like I said, he wore her down with all that love and nurturing. And, boy, did she need it!
The Party. Whoa. I arrived Saturday afternoon to a flurry of activity of party decorators and housekeepers. I'm shown to my room, which is really a large gorgeous studio apartment in Manhattan.
I go downstairs. There are manikins with Dee's high school prom dresses (perfectly tacky), fire engine red cheerleading uniforms (the beginning of her obsession with red but that's another blog)....one says CAPT on the lapel, no surprise there. Blow ups of baby, toddler and grade school pix, the high school senior portrait. Michael has compiled 760 stills into a 54-minute videography, complete with music from every decade.
Michael planned the menu...all hors d'oeuvres, many of which he made or orchestrated. Just a sample here:
Asian egg rolls with sweet chile dip
Ginger sesame flank steak
Duxelles stuffed mushrooms
Crab cakes with saffron Aioli
Grilled baby lamb chops with jalapeno ginger jam
I'm not kidding....he's amazing.
The guests start arriving Sunday afternoon, everyone completing a name tag that connects them to Dee.
'Politico ally from the 80s, spent summers with our families on the Cape'
One was completely bizarro...'I am a Republican. Bruises are from raw sex.' OMG! Dee says she's very nice, but she scared the be-Jesus out of me! Let me find my Democrat friends.
Then, there were The Girls, Dee's friends from law school, great looking, high achievers, individualistic and funny as hell! These are the words they sang to Dixie.
Oh, I used to frolic in the youthful garden (Now my arteries have hardened)
Look away, look away, look away, Sixtyland
Once I spent my days in copulation (Now, I cope with constipation)
Look away, look away, look away, Sixtyland
I wish I wasn't sixty
Oy vay, oy vay
I've tried hard to embrace it but I just can't stand that number
Lordy Lord above, oh please don't say I'm sixty!
Lordy Lord above, there ain't no way I'm sixty!
Verse 2:
Oh, my legs were limber and my feet were jumpin' (Now, my collagen needs plumpin')
Look away, look away, look away, Sixtyland
In a scant bikini, ooh, my bod was smokin' (Now folks say "You must be jokin'")
Look away, look away, look away, Sixtyland
I wish I wasn't sixty
Oy vay, oy vay!
I've tried hard to embrace it but I just can't believe I'm sixty
Lordy Lord above, there ain't no way to love it
Lordy Lord above, take this birthday and SHOVE it!
They brought the house down.
The party was perfect. Easy to mingle, listen to everyone's story, delightful weather, food and drink flowing, a to-die-for yet very comfortable home. We came to celebrate this beautiful, charming woman and witnessed a great love story. You did it, Michael! You got her and you are so worth it!!!
Theirs is a fascinating coming together. With their former mates, they sat in the same row at the local theatre, never knowing each other. Their relationships ended about the same time and they happened to be sitting together with other friends at the theatre. Michael's friend introduced Dee; they knew each other through law circles. He called her the next day and the next and the next. His enthusiasm smacked right up against her resistance. He talks too much, he's way too ADHD, he's got a few extra pounds. Michael? He sees not one flaw in this woman. He adores her. From Day One.
He totally wore her down. They both are well educated, accomplished in their respective fields. Did I mention he's the most amazing cook??!! How does that go? A way to a man's heart is through his stomach? And vice versa, evidently.
Her former husband carped about her weight (which was perfect), her style (not tight enough), her looks (he wanted her to wear make up to bed). Just never enough. You would think he was all that...which he WAS NOT! But, Michael doesn't care if she wears clogs with her silk nightgown or curlers in her hair at the grocery store or forgets to put on her bright red lipstick, takes five years to decide on the living room color or nags at him a little bit. He wakes up everyday with, "Good morning, my Venus. How is the love of my life?"
Like I said, he wore her down with all that love and nurturing. And, boy, did she need it!
The Party. Whoa. I arrived Saturday afternoon to a flurry of activity of party decorators and housekeepers. I'm shown to my room, which is really a large gorgeous studio apartment in Manhattan.
I go downstairs. There are manikins with Dee's high school prom dresses (perfectly tacky), fire engine red cheerleading uniforms (the beginning of her obsession with red but that's another blog)....one says CAPT on the lapel, no surprise there. Blow ups of baby, toddler and grade school pix, the high school senior portrait. Michael has compiled 760 stills into a 54-minute videography, complete with music from every decade.
Michael planned the menu...all hors d'oeuvres, many of which he made or orchestrated. Just a sample here:
Asian egg rolls with sweet chile dip
Ginger sesame flank steak
Duxelles stuffed mushrooms
Crab cakes with saffron Aioli
Grilled baby lamb chops with jalapeno ginger jam
I'm not kidding....he's amazing.
The guests start arriving Sunday afternoon, everyone completing a name tag that connects them to Dee.
'Politico ally from the 80s, spent summers with our families on the Cape'
One was completely bizarro...'I am a Republican. Bruises are from raw sex.' OMG! Dee says she's very nice, but she scared the be-Jesus out of me! Let me find my Democrat friends.
Then, there were The Girls, Dee's friends from law school, great looking, high achievers, individualistic and funny as hell! These are the words they sang to Dixie.
Oh, I used to frolic in the youthful garden (Now my arteries have hardened)
Look away, look away, look away, Sixtyland
Once I spent my days in copulation (Now, I cope with constipation)
Look away, look away, look away, Sixtyland
I wish I wasn't sixty
Oy vay, oy vay
I've tried hard to embrace it but I just can't stand that number
Lordy Lord above, oh please don't say I'm sixty!
Lordy Lord above, there ain't no way I'm sixty!
Verse 2:
Oh, my legs were limber and my feet were jumpin' (Now, my collagen needs plumpin')
Look away, look away, look away, Sixtyland
In a scant bikini, ooh, my bod was smokin' (Now folks say "You must be jokin'")
Look away, look away, look away, Sixtyland
I wish I wasn't sixty
Oy vay, oy vay!
I've tried hard to embrace it but I just can't believe I'm sixty
Lordy Lord above, there ain't no way to love it
Lordy Lord above, take this birthday and SHOVE it!
They brought the house down.
The party was perfect. Easy to mingle, listen to everyone's story, delightful weather, food and drink flowing, a to-die-for yet very comfortable home. We came to celebrate this beautiful, charming woman and witnessed a great love story. You did it, Michael! You got her and you are so worth it!!!
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