I was 20 and had an open ended return ticket to Israel. Before going to Israel I was going to England and France by myself. Met people on the plane; it was the way kids traveled then. Everybody else on the plane, or those I ended traveling with, had backpacks. I had a matching set of luggage, because my father was convinced that backpacks would kill me.

Before I left my father had to give me detailed instructions; over and over again. One was not to forget my Blue Cross/Blue Shield card. I was 20, in perfect health and exceptionally fit. Had to be to carry the luggage.

I didn’t forget my Blue Cross card. It would have been a mortal sin,

But as I kept on trying to explaining to my moustached, way too long side-burned successful CPA father, nobody in England, France, Greece, Spain (where I was supposed to go someday after leaving Israel) and Israel accepted Blue Cross.

Later in life, my father usually would look just like Hal Linden who is considerably younger. However there were times my father would let his hair grow too long; I called him Einstein, and he thought that was a compliment.

My father had certain quirks and one was an ability to believe what he wanted to believe. He could be so wrong and think he was so right.

I showed him my Blue Cross card at the airport. Somehow he kept on forgetting that.

I know this next memory is false; he couldn’t have possibly followed me onto the tarmac, and screamed:
“Do you have your Blue Cross card? Are you sure that you have your Blue Cross card…Blue Cross…Blue Cross?”

I like the memory though. Always have.

He was being installed as president of our community’s civic association that night. The woman in charge couldn’t understand why my parents had to be late.

He said; he really said:
“Are you kidding? I would get into the plane and parachute halfway from England to spend more time with her.”

He would have; even though he was scared of heights and couldn’t swim well. I could beat him by the time I was eight, and my dad took games and sports seriously. He never let me win unless I really had.

I learned early to ignore his diatribes. But his insistence on my taking my Blue Cross card on my maybe for six months; maybe for years trip, has always made me laugh.

I did get to backpack through England and France, though my backpack’s were matched luggage.

Irony; I love buying luggage. The Swiss Army Knife luggage company came out with pink luggage. Tried to buy pink, non ultra-suede luggage two years ago. Couldn’t. I actually have to walk on the other side of Broadway so I don’t pass the luggage store, because I absolutely don’t need it.

And I never lack good health insurance. It’s very very important to me. Can you blame me?

Proud to be a daddy’s girl who went her own way. Think he was secretly proud.

Wrote a post and put it in draft mode as I felt as though I were walking on a high beam with a safety net. As I’m scared of heights, lack proper depth perception, and tend to be clumsy, the high beam would immediately freak me, I would become dizzy, want to throw up and be paralyzed. What good’s a safety net?

There is no real safety net in blogging except for your own boundaries. I’m willing to cross many, but not willing to be stuck on the edge of the high beam.

I wrote about the long term effects of being disorganized. Though it’s a problem that I didn’t make nor did I ever want in my life, it has always been a shame that I hold close to my heart though I do talk about it.

I make it and me sound pathetic when in reality it’s not nor am I, but when you’ve spent your life fighting a problem that refuses to be solved, it feels more immense than finding the spot where the magic stone is that uncovers the key to life, and not being able to dig deep or hard enough.

I have conquered most of the problem; it’s that last little bit that will stop the paralysis and allow me to finish what I have begun that I can’t conquer. If I could further explain it, it would no longer be a problem.

On that note, I end for now.

Just posted Bonnie of Frogma’s comment on Bring it on! If you read it you will understand.

I love the USA but I haven’t felt good about it since the impeachment. The one for lying about sex.

Remember he wasn’t indicted; remember that The Grand Jury hearings were a mockery because we kept on hearing things about it while it was happening.

Scooter Libby lied about much more important things. Obstruction of justice into an investigation about JoeWilson/Valerie Plame. There might be an investigation into the war in Iraq.

As I remember Clinton was convicted before the impeachment hearing happened by all who didn’t like him;though he was never even indicted. Have linked the official Impeachment hearings. Have separately linked an explanation of the federal Grand Jury process. I bitched enough when I was on a New York City Grand Jury for a month; can’t imagine what it’s like to be on one for two years. the University of Michigan Document collection Clinton’s hearing includes that and much more. It’s an amazing source of information.

When Ken Starr began his very public campaign against Clinton, mud began to be slung, and not by “liberals.” It’s Republican/Conservatives who have been throwing words around, and have been trying to make everybody they don’t like into a meaningless idiot.

Read the indictment. It’s in plain English. Libby lied!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hope that Rove is investigated. Impeach Bush and that entire administration. They’re the ones hiding behind talk about moral values. Morals and values that they lack; read the indictment.

I’m very proud of my country today; I’m very proud of being part of Bring it on!

The radical right has gone around the blogosphere lording it over everybody that they don’t agree with, because they had the power.

I have been ashamed of this country since the Impeachment, then there was the stolen election, then 9/11. Gave Bush a free pass until he sent us to Iraq on March 9, 2003 to look for WMD’s.

I can be ashamed and still love my country. For America to become great again we must investigate the war in Iraq. Don’t want to see one more person needlessly die.

Scooter Libby sort of represents the entire administration to me. The arrogance, the I’m better than you, holier than thou attitude. He lied and lied and lied and lied and lied.

Investigate Rove! Convict Delay! Investigate the war in Iraq! Investigate Cheney!
Impeach Bush!

We the people of the United States of America have begun to be heard from; we finally are beginning to count again. Not just the Bush administration, his friends, and the Internet trolls who are sooooooooooo righteous.

Not turning off comments; don’t want to be accused of banning, everybody I don’t like, when I have banned one person for making overtly racist remarks.

This is my country and I love it so much. Don’t understand how I can love it and blame the government for lying since before they were actually in power?

Maybe you will understand now.

ONE MORE THING: WE SHOULD BE LOOKING FOR BIN LADEN: THE ENTIRE CITY OF NEW YORK WILL HELP HANG HIM. AND I CAN’T THINK OF ANOTHER PERSON WE WOULD BRING BACK THE DEATH PENALTY FOR

DON’T TELL A NEW YORKER THAT WE LIKE TERRORISTS OR SUPPORT THEM IN ANY WAY. WE JUST HAVE NEVER UNDERSTOOD HOW THE WAR IN IRAQ HAD ANYTHING TO DO WITH 9/11

This is going to be the best Halloween in New York in, oh, five or so years. Don’t remember it four years ago, no I was in no condition to celebrate. So when I’m asked “why do you hate America so much?” it stings.

9/11 was very personal; I have made peace with it, but will never forget it. Never. Almost a thousand more people died in the implosion than have died in Iraq. Hope we can keep it that way.

The first plane attacked at 8;58 AM. Two and a half hours later it would have been lunch time. The mall would have been filled with people who worked in the neighborhood, lived in the neighborhood, or were just passing through. I mention this because many people I know did escape. Had it happened later, I can’t and won’t imagine how devastating it would have been.

So when people ask me why I hate America: a few things; I knew that day that I would have been willing to die for my country, because I love it so damn much.

When did dissent become confused with hate for a country?

Why don’t we ask the Clinton haters the same question? Because it’s their right and responsiblity as citizens to speak out.

We understand and respect their dissent*, but they have never given us the same courtesy. Think that says a lot.

*While Clinton was president; during the after-election, and right now. Because I just might think that making light of the indictments is un-American.

My friends the Ralphs are friendly with Steve Windwood, and his wife. James Ralph can be very proper; but is saved by being a great conversationalist. Only with people he likes, but he likes me so….He lives for good conversation and good wine, along with good behavior.

One night, a mutual wonderful but crazy friend, Joey, invited himself to dinner at a good downtown restaurant. The Ralph’s are half Italian, and only eat at Italian restaurants, The Union Square Cafe and a few other restaurants like that. I have always wanted to pit my sister against the Ralph’s in a find the best restaurant in a half hour contest, no Zagats allowed; fifteen block area. Anyway enough fantasy. Read more…

I’m Doug’s guest on waking ambrose today which for for some reason having to do with his url, I insisted on blogrolling as bitterbierce.

TB didn’t mean to rush the figures; it was, uh, sort of obvious that it would happen soon.

Ruined the one night I actually watch TV when the show is on. To hear James Spader talk about growing older and how women have it easier, because they don’t get fat–well he was talking to Candice Bergen. James Spader of Sex Lies and Videotape, White Palace, Secretary, talking about aging on Boston Legal

We all have issues about growing older; we all want to look as good as we did at 39. Read in People once that most people consider that their ideal age. I did for many reasons I won’t get into here. Yes I have advanced degrees and certificates in aging, why did I pick People ? Because the words in that article have stuck with me; because they interviewed celebrities we’ve all grown up with or have watched grow up; and they have more vested in their physical appearance. Read more…

Think, Pia, think about the rest of your life. Think about all the books and magazines piling up in your bedroom; all the DVR’d TV Shows. Force yourself to admit that sometimes writing in your blog and reading other blogs is more exciting than real life; how sometimes you would rather tell things to your blog and blog friends than your real life friends.

Sometimes you find yourself blogging instead of doing real life things; you are late to appointments. You’re not the late type. Something has to happen.

Breathe in deeply as you tell yourself ten times “I am not my blog, I am not my blog….” Read more…

Really kinda off blogging this week but just began reading an article where the author’s daughter won’t pay for magazines, newspapers, music etc.

Curious,and just in case you don’t want to read the longest intro in the world where I actually begin to understand exactly why I reacted so vehemently last week, would you pay for the above–especially the etc?

After the longest intro in the blogging world is the post that I had written last weekend to keep in all week while I read books, watched TV and did other totally superficial and horrifying home things. But life never turns out as planned so I did none of that, and took this off the first page as soon as possible because I didn’t want to see it. However, I do like it. And in writing it, I worked out what was bothering me, and got to thank a few people with shout outs and some more with just names because I’m too tired. But duh, to summarize, what was wrong, a week ago Friday was the fourth anniversary of my mom’s death which was just a month after that day–and I got it through and wrote the story that follows late Saturday night and y’all know the rest.

Should we just throw old people away? And what was that about me not be able to face the passing of my youth? Hey when you work in ancient non-renovated nursing home give me a holler. Because I faced aging and death every damn day. Didn’t include this before because it’s all over my blog. Please tell me again how superficial, self serving and devoid of meaning my life is. Maybe my blog is my release; maybe I like to be multi-faceted. Maybe it’s you noble right wingers who really live the shallow lives. I sure don’t. Picked the exact wrong person at the exact wrong time to insult, and you did insult me. Threatening me with “I have friends,” was funny. Because so do I; but I don’t go around saying that; they just show up Read more…

My sister reads me two letters that she has found among our father’s papers. One was a letter to me on my 16th birthday. By the end, both my sister and I were crying. He loved me so purely.

My sister must tell me that he never wrote a letter to her like that. I respond:
“since he never gave it to me, does it count?”

Both of us know it does. The letter is very beautiful; my dad talks about the joy I have given my parents, and how wonderful I was despite our differences, because of my compassion, caring and generosity.

He talked about what a beautiful wonderful baby I had been.

As I was perfect up to the age of nine, it has always been hard for me to compete with Pia, the very early days in family lore.

My rebellion against my dad had begun in earnest two years earlier and would last nine more years. My father’s temper was fierce; he was always right.

It’s hard for a daughter to admit that she’s the person her father most loved in the world. He loved my mother very very much. He never tried to do anything yucky to me. I don’t know why I feel compelled to add the last two sentences, but if I don’t…people might add that to the list of my immoral acts.

I was almost forced into rebellion by his raging love; and have never regreted a moment of the rebellious years. Despite myself at times, I was independent and strong. In order not to be swallowed by want to live my life for me and to protect me, I had to maintain my distance. My dad understood.

Even in high school I had a whole other seperate city life. My parents didn’t try to keep me in the suburbs. The Village beckoned and greeted me with open arms as it did so many other teenagers. I knew my dad was secretly proud that I fit in so well there, and had stopped caring what the people in our suburb thought of me when I finished Junior High. Actually I cared too much but wouldn’t let anybody know that.

We always stayed in touch, and saw each other. When I lived in Cambridge, and took statistics during the summer so that it would be shorter, I would fly to New York almost every weekend so that he could tutor me.

Somehow statistics made sense to me. We would talk about them in the larger context of life. For the first time, my dad, the CPA, investor, large stake poker player, and owner of four successful stores, saw that I had a good business head. Statistics helped our rapprochement.

My father wouldn’t have been suprised that I breezed through the statistical part of my full year grad research course, and did even better in post grad statistical research. It’s all done on computer and is a matter of knowing what figures to plug in and why. My dad had given much more difficult assignments years before that weren’t done on computer.

My sister seems to remember his temper more and more now; I never forgot it so it was easier for me to confront my feelings about it. Uh, therapy on and off my whole life until ten years ago helped also. As does the knowledge that my dad helped make the world a more fun, nicer place.

My father was compassionate, caring and generous. When people asked him for help he almost always complied; and if he didn’t, there was a damn good reason.

I realize that I’m talking in abstractions. It’s so easy to record the fights; and so hard to record the good times. For several years before his death I asked if I could video him. He always said no. Now I understand that though he was in good health he wanted to stave off the kinehorah (evil eye) by not recording his memories.

I will explore our fights. There were some great ones

Bring it on! has only been around since last March. In that short time we have grown incredibly.

Please go there sometime this weekend. There is some damn fine writing, and I’m not talking about me, plus some exceptional videos

I put up a very revised version of the post under this one on Bring it on! Read more…