Ever since last week’s Mad Men I’ve been singing songs from Bye Bye Birdie. My parents said I could see any Broadway play I wanted to for my tenth birthday. No choice. It had to be Bye Bye Birdie. For some reason my mother thought it was about juvenile delinquents and “researched” it. As we read the same sources–The New York Times and The New Yorker I found this strange. Of course she found out that it wasn’t about delinquents. On my birthday, July 19, 1960, we went to the Brooks Atkinson Theater to see it. Can’t believe I remember the theater but it was a momentous event in my life and we didn’t take my younger sister which made it all that more sweet. (Sorry Elka)
Two years later my grandmother died shortly before my sister’s tenth birthday and I guess my mother wasn’t in a celebrating mood. Elka was going to see a play for her eleventh birthday–November 24, 1963. Unfortunately all theaters were closed.

For a brief while there really had been Camelot. I have a friend who argues that the most significant happening in 63 was the arrival of The Beatles and he makes some valid points but then I ask if he divides our childhoods into “before” and “after.” The security that we all felt, and it might have been fake, faded quickly away. Maybe it’s better for children not to be so innocent, but we had a rude awakening. I think our (cohort) behavior later in the decade answers that question.

And can you imagine having all theaters closed two days after a president’s death now? Basically everything was closed. The bowling alley wasn’t and my parents made me go bowling. I missed Jack Ruby killing Oswald but did see the birth of the instant replay. I never did fully forgive my parents for that.
I wasn’t in love with Robert Kennedy and had a hard time forgiving Teddy Kennedy for what happened around my birthday in 1969. However, he turned into one of the best damn senators and I realized that he had paid the ultimate price a Kennedy male could pay–he could never become president. Being a big believer in universal health care–I think it a marker of a civilized progressive affluent country, and a fervently fearful person as I pay premiums for my whole body but it’s only partly covered, I hope his death brings people together. I’m afraid it won’t. I have already seen Kennedy satires ( I liked the Dead Kennedy’s) and they just ain’t funny, right now.
(A bit of politics–most Democrats never wished Bush dead, gone yes, dead no, nor compared him to Hitler and I find every Republican who silently condones either Teddy Kennedy jokes or Obama equals Hitler statements filled with blame and shameful) End of politics.

Cooper has a Pet Clark (as she says) song from Finian’s Rainbow up this week, and it stirred something in my soggy brain. Then I read Bob Herbert in the New York Times and I finally remembered one of my all time favorite songs, “Look to the rainbows.” I used to be a romantic and it’s about the most romantic of songs. I couldn’t find the Dinah Washington (I think) version, but Patti Labelle’s is damn good. I prefer it to Aretha’s.

Herbert uses this line “Follow the fellow who follows a dream,” as an epitaph for the Kennedys. It’s always been romantic to me and I loved this song in secret as I was damned if I were going to follow any man, but yes it’s perfect and it’s perfect for any man who follows any woman also. And I no longer secretly love it
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WGOBQ63Gc7k&hl=en&fs=1&]

Here’s a beautifully written opinion piece on Ted Kennedy that goes into much much more. It shows how words might be distorted and made whole again. I might not agree with the “distortions” but….

I miss my best friend. Talking on the phone isn’t the same as dropping by. I miss New York in summer–always its best season. I miss feeling so comfortable in my place I can complain bitterly about everything.

That isn’t to say I’m not happy here. I was a New Yorker all my life and now I’m not. To deny that takes adjusting would be foolish.

I bought a recumbent Schwinn stationary bike that is a hypochondriac’s delight as it tells you your heart beat and whether or not it’s in the right zone. It even tells you if you’re in shape or not. It almost feels as if it exercises for you.

It’s just different enough from riding a bike to make me long for a mountain bike that I will buy come fall. I have always loved the repetitive foot motions in bike riding. It makes me zone out and mediate I guess.

I began writing an article for sale on shaking up my life by moving from New York to North Myrtle. Then I realized that it’s in incredibly poor taste to write about buying a house this year.

I have climbed personal mountains but my mother always said I had the worst timing. If I lost a job and foreclosed on my home it would be more in vogue. I realize how whiny this sounds but….

I reached a plateau-going-off-the-meds-wise. This isn’t depressing as I think I have done incredibly well but hell it ain’t heroin, crack or even pain killers. Just the single most difficult anti panic attack drug to withdraw from but really it’s nothing

That’s kind of the way I feel about myself right now. In a slump. I’m not the super strong wonderful woman people keep saying I am. If I were I would know how to fix my back deck hose. I would have more flashlights and lights that actually worked in my back deck.

The other night I had company and just after dark we heard what sounded like a water pipe bursting. It was the frigging garden hose as I couldn’t turn the spigot all the way off–neither could any other woman who tried. Actually it was pretty funny as we all ended up soaking wet. Since the temperature was well into the 80′s nobody really cared.

I made “irregular grounds” that looked like nothing into an incredible winding outsidedeck with two dining areas, a living room and just chaises for now. Between my second floor deck and the deck that wraps around the house my outside room the square footage is twice the size of my Upper West Side coop.

The only thing I have left to furnish is the sun room and I’m waiting for the wicker store to go on sale when I will scoop in and furnish it in two seconds. I want an all white room in an otherwise color filled house.

Oh yes I do feel better about myself. I love having a house with a staircase and a small kitchen that is still large enough to cook in. The house leaves a small footprint so why do I even care about justifying my purchase? Or how do I write this article so that I’m a sympathetic character? Never have been great at that. I don’t come off humble enough and yet I’m so apologetic etc.

Neighbors ask for tours of the house which cracks me. In New York it would be quirky normal. In September I’m having an open house for EldonOne and Jimbo–so they can invite prospective clients, and the people who work in town and always asked to see pictures can come over. It feels strange to have a house that’s considered so “showable.” I hope that people don’t think me unfeeling to have renovated it this past year. I couldn’t live in the house the way it was, I did help the economy and I’m sick of justifying this purchase and renovation.

If I climb metaphorical mountains in the wrong year have I still climbed mountains?

I can’t wait until tomorrow when the sun will shine and I will spend the entire day at the beach and think about nothing more pressing than how lovely the waves are. Someday I will learn to write again. I don’t know what’s happened to the one thing I always felt I could do better than most. I think just about everybody writes better than I do and is more interesting. I hope that this is just the pre-September blues, and I will wake up one morning in mid September all psyched about my writing again. I hope that more than anything except for health care reform passing.

I was going to take this post down as I didn’t like it. Then I read it again and I must say I can write. I think it’s blogging I find depressing as I began, pretty much, at the top and always knew I couldn’t sustain that. I think I would rather write for the sake of writing and maybe being published than trying to write posts. I feel the last call, last chance bell ringing/clock ticking something furious.

First the Monterey Pop v Woodstock debate. I wasn’t at either but did see every showing of Monterey Pop the day it came out. I recorded Woodstock the other day after i realized I have only seen snippets, but only seem to watch HGTV or health care reform centered shows.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eqWVOSSmPpc&hl=en&fs=1&]
Hi you old faithful friend. I gave you a little party the other day as keeping you up for five years marked a milestone in my life. It was the longest I have been ever able to do anything. Now that you’re five there’s no telling what we’ll be able to achieve together.

Blog let me be honest. There are a few rivals for your affection. First is Facebook. FB is usually fun. If only I could be pithy clever…sort of like Bill Maher who I spent last night watching, with a group of friends, while eating Southern food. We kept rewinding and I still couldn’t remember all his one great one liners on the subject that seems to have overtaken my thoughts–health care reform.

He did ask, and blog you and I have wondered the same, what plans the Republicans have if they hate our plans so much. The only one I can remember is McCain’s “you can take your insurance with you.” As I was paying $1300 a month because I lived on the UWS and had a faux-Rolls life style, that wouldn’t be doable on a greatly reduced income.

OK blog you’re asking as any sane blog would, what does this have to do with FB? Many people seem to plan their days around putting in pithy clever or pithy zany remarks. If I could remember all the awesome amazing incredible interesting thoughts I come up when there’s absolutely no way to write them down–in the shower, on a walk in the beach usually in the water, or when I half wake up at night, the world would know how truly clever I am. I know, I know, everybody says that, but….

Big Question blog: how are you going to help me? We, you and I, lurk in blogs where bloggers who call themselves writers use “your” when they mean “you’re” over and over again. We’re never sure if that’s done on purpose as some kind of weird affectation that seems to work. People just love these blogs that, well, aren’t very well written. Or, we think, interesting as the bloggers uh excuse me writers don’t know how to tell a story or stand away from the pack and let their quirks show. They are super-friendly, often with alcohol inspired blogging names, attend blogging fairs and often write about subjects that were tired three years ago. Yes there is no such thing as a new subject but there should always be a new way to say it.

Blog we have traveled some roads less taken together and some roads most people wouldn’t brave at all. Let’s find a straighter road, not the most traveled, but not apart from the crowd and finally achieve something that will bring in some dinero.

The link takes me to my first post. However it can also be found by going into August 04 in the archives
Today, August 13th is my five year blogiversary

If you read my first post and I don’t suggest you do you will see that I never expected this to be “public,” and I have always been writing variations on the same themes.

I miss the posts on my parents. I hope that I’m not moving too far from them in my life and my memories. Also miss the posts on friends and lovers. I hope the posts come together in book form. I promise new stories. Yes Doug there are things I have never written here. More than you can imagine….

My blog has given me much. Not in the financial sense but to have met so many incredible people in so many different arenas, that is joyous.

Many people, my age, can’t understand how something that hasn’t given me monetary gain can be so enriching. I’m not going to attempt to explain. As I’m not going to attempt to explain to these people that writing for the sake of writing and having an audience can be empowering and spill over to all different facets of life.

Five years ago I would have laughed had you told me where I would be living now or that I would own a house with unexpansive grounds I just made much larger by moving the gate to fill half the concrete driveway so that I can have a winter garden–the sun hits it constantly. I’m going to take a table, buy some chairs and some more chaises for it. The older part will have the grill, table and chairs and outdoor living room furniture because really I do most of my living outdoors.

I have a flower garden in front and a vegetable garden, on the downstairs deck or unexpansive grounds, though nobody in my court has been able to grow more than seven tomatoes this year. I don’t know, nor does anybody who knows more than me, what’s wrong with the cucumbers, but I’m big on peppers–three kinds–which is good as they’re one of the pricier foods here. I will have new pictures soon.

There is the slow food movement and there is my slow life movement especially in August.

This is the first time in my life I feel totally assured of what I’m doing–except for the investment in the next biggest thing that seems to be tanking but might just come back and roar.

It has taken me a long time to reach this place and I thank everybody who has been taking this journey with me. I do mean “journey” in every sense.

To the person who told me he secretly misses my responses to my tormenters. I hated them when they were happening. But they did make me feel wanted or needed in a very strange sense. I would rather be needed for expertise in subjects I don’t even know yet as I refuse to stop learning. I always believed you’re only as old as you think. Blogging has reinforced that.
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Just to keep that last paragraph real. Here’s something from moveon. I won’t debate health care. It’s too necessary and the arguments against a health care bill too sick. I will stop with one thought.

The first for profit health insurance companies in America began in 1974. It was done through the establishment of ERISA and is too complicated or too simplistic for my rain soaked brain to explain. Yes ERISA is a pension plan act but….

The point is that the American medical system the way it is now is under 40 years old. Medicare is older. So by changing health care systems we’re not changing something so thoroughly entrenched it’s all many generations of Americans have known.

I remember going to the doctor and paying a fair price for the visit. Insurance was for major medical bills. The reality is that just as ERISA was enacted advances were made in medical equipment and we, or our insurance companies, paid for every new great invention and many that weren’t needed or weren’t needed for that particular patient at that time. Maybe every doctor doesn’t need the newest best equipment.

I am grateful for the medical advances. It is said that more advances in medicine have been made since 1950 than in all history before that. That’s incredible.

I do have to end with something personal. In the 70′s my father saw that health costs were spiraling out of control for the many people in the arts he knew. He was the CPA for the Theater Development Fund (mostly known for the TKTS booths but has done much more for people in the arts)and began the first group insurance program for self-employed people in the arts. I have always considered that one of his greatest accomplishments and am very proud.

I can’t begin to state how ironic it would be if I’m denied coverage for a medical condition because I forgot to state something on my application. Here, in South Carolina, if you join through a group, not an employer, all the individual rules apply to you so I don’t understand the advantage of joining through a group. I want to enjoy the years before Medicare not live in fear of becoming sick

This was just going to be a little blogiversary post. Carried away has always been my blogging middle name.

Bone began NaBloSoFroDraWe 2009 or clean out your drafts week. I wrote this two weeks ago and kinda forgot about it. I meant to fill in the character sketchs but….

New York has never been about museums, theater, even restaurants to me but family, friends, the best museum in the world–the streets of New York, and OK I love restaurants in the city and Long Island more than any other place.

I stayed with my sister on the Island for a couple of nights and then went to my spiritual home, the Upper West Side. My best friend Lucia and her daughter Lucianame live in the best of all buildings. It’s non-doorman, just seven floors, built around the turn of the last century, one of the first elevator buildings in New York and half the building has been living there for thirty years or more. They all know me and treat me as just another building resident which is way cool.

I didn’t watch Seinfeld when it was on originally but instinctively knew that only the best friend could say “it’s me when ringing the door. And after your mother your best friend gets the coveted O or 1 spot on speed dial. Yes we all check.

One night Lucia and I went to a coffee shop across the street from her building. The food’s exceptional, the staff is wonderful and you never know who you’re going to run into but chances are you’ll run into Eleanor and end up eating with her.

Eleanor’s 83 and has been living in the building longer than I’ve been alive. She moved in as a young bride. Her husband died a few years ago and her son finally found himself a few years ago.

Eleanor’s the only Upper West Side Jewish Republican I know. Now we all voted for Rudy the first time, and Bloomberg the first time as we’re pragmatic and only tough Democrats when we have to be. Eleanor’s amazing–a group of us are Eleanor groupies. She would run for office because she knew the candidate would lose and she didn’t want the nice young person to suffer politically.

Eleanor worked on Wall Street until the 87 recession when she moved over to the city where she still works full and very long days today.

The city is honoring Eleanor with a ceremony and a party today. Lucia collected money from people in the building and bought her some jewelry. I so wish I could be there. Eleanor’s like the mother I miss and thinks I’m beautiful so I would love her just for that. .

Saturday night Lucia, Lucianame and I went to the cafe at the 70th Street pier for burgers, salad and sangria. Lucianame found it too funny that I needed “roughage.” Well it had been a week of heavy eating and for some reason…why am I defending my use of the word “roughage” rather than “fiber.” OK so we got back to the building and bought ice cream from the truck at the corner. As we were eating our ice cream, Miles came in.

Miles has AIDS. He was supposed to die ten years ago. For a number of years I would see Miles with an aide. He shakes but he has cheated death so long and through so many attacks. I almost cried seeing Miles alone with a dog. Miles is an artist. He specializes in buildings and when he and his lover lived in San Diego he began a movement to preserve some buildings. Recently he went to San Diego as the city was honoring him. PBS is doing a special about him.

The people in Lucia’s building gave him pricey flowers and he was so touched he painted a picture of them. He took us in to see the painting and the long foyer, living room and one bedroom that were filled with his art. I was stunned both by the almost plain lined buildings that came alive, and the floral art that while still in his style was lavish and lush.

These are just two of the people who live in one smallish building on the Upper West Side. I heart the Upper West Side, this building and its residents so very much.

I also adore Cooper who went to NYU so…this is one of the many reasons why

I couldn’t stop loving Bill Clinton even when I detested his wife who I now admire. I’m glad that I have a reason to love him!!!!!!!!!!! Can I just say, he’s so darn cute?

This article’s on the death of old media as exemplified by a party Tina Brown gave. Now she has The Daily Beast which I read.

A lot of bloggers went to its launch party. Not this one. I don’t feel very blogger like. Nor do I feel very writer like.

I’m coming face to face with who I am. Smashing head first into the giant thunder cloud she was lost for two decades. Or so some think. Not really. This blog will be five years old next week which isn’t really an achievement but I gave up being a multi award nominated reporter for it.

Not really again. I couldn’t go any further at that particular paper for the most personal of reasons and being me didn’t apply anywhere else–or send in clippings. I have two books and should scan them in but first I have to set up my whole office so that my life can easily be found and one of the bad side affects of going off this med is that I’m ADD’d to the max. No frigging patience for anything boring and most of life is. Though I can clean….and water plants if it ever stops raining.

Tomorrow there is only a 20% chance of rain and I’m going to the beach–the four blocks I live from it? It’s four long blocks when you take a chair and something to drink, maybe something to eat, and a book–hard covered or trade paper, of course.

I’m not doing well if I’m trying to prepare for a lifetime of poverty, but I’m betting on me, to come through for me, as if I don’t who will?