It was a hot June night. Not hot as in oppressive, I want to die weather like today, but hot enough. In New York, the hottest part of the day is always dusk when the heat’s had time to settle on the cement, and the buildings seem to ooze both heat and drops of hot water from the air conditioners. The steam rises both from the street, and subway gratings, and it can feel as if you’re trapped in a manhole cover or a pot of not quite boiling water. One thing you learn in New York early and never forget: heat rises.

I was wearing a blue with little pink and yellow flowers bustier dress; the skirt flowed like a Marilyn dress. Here comes the big confession: sometimes when I would a dress like that I wouldn’t wear underwear; go commando as it’s called now. But, and this is a big but, I had a two piece bathing suit that almost exactly matched the dress; only the flowers were a bit larger. That morning in a burst of clothing creativity, I decided to wear the bottom as underwear. To make the dress work appropriate I had worn a blue silk fitted jacket that I had left at the studio.

Noel was walking to my right, and Lucia to my right. The subway grating was right underneath me. The fire station bells began ringing as it did whenever notable people passed it. I couldn’t understand why suddenly Lucia and Noel were trying to tame my dress that was whirling with the blast of hot air from the subway. Their faces had turned bright red, and not from the heat.

Something made me turn around, and face three very well dressed men who were trying not to smile. Two of the men were young, very good looking; “bodyguards,” I thought before my brain had time to register exactly who they were guarding. Or maybe I really didn’t want to realize this. I thought of something clever to say, but before I could say it I began laughing. Real laughter; not girly giggles or shameful bursts of restrained laughter that turns into coughing fits. I knew that as long as I lived I would never forget this meeting. But I just couldn’t stop laughing; the six of us were standing on Lafayette Street, laughing until tears came.

And that’s how I met the man for whom the bells were tolling; the boss of bosses himself, John Gotti, shortly before he went to prison.
If Lucia comments, and she will, do not believe her version. I wasn’t just wearing underpants, I was wearing a shield of armor, a belly covering bathing suit bottom.

No I don’t approve of him or anything he did. Just getting that out of the way. But it’s a hell of a story.

Now she’s an incredibly mature seventeen year old who has to make her first major life decision: Barnard or Tufts?

I think I know what the answer will be but both sound great to me. I’m so so so proud!

She’s so Zooey!

Though Susan G Komen retracted its very political and very wrong decision this blogger will be sending money to Planned Parenthood. I think I have a story in the archives somewhere about being eighteen and needing to find out if I was pregnant or not. If not I will hopefully write it this weekend

Planned Parenthood was there as it was there for exams and questions I didn’t want to ask my mother. I do wish Planned Parenthood offered mammograms as many insurance companies still don’t cover them and so many people are without any health insurance. You shouldn’t have to risk bankruptcy if you get sick before 2014. My insurance covers so little it scares me yet is almost $500 a month–older and pre-existing conditions.

This is an incredible and incredibly flawed country that panders to the right. This week we showed the power of Facebook, Twitter and Tumblr. It was amazing to look at my Facebook wall and see almost all statuses in support of Planned Parenthood.

This is going to sound so elitist and maybe it is but I do understand more than a high school grad and don’t care who hates me for saying that. Few people including doctors know much or anything about NLD in adults. So I say “this is my opinion,” or “I believe.”

People say I talk down to them. But how do they talk to me? Apparently all people with NLD are forever children who need to be talked to as if we are slow seven year olds. I resent that.

I don’t consider my accomplishments amazing. It makes me sad to realize how much more I could have accomplished had I known about NLD prior to age 56. That’s a fact.

Think about that. I navigated through life without being called “disabled,” which I’m glad about but that also meant I got no service. None at all. I graduated from college and grad school–and did exceptionally well. I should be very proud of that. Instead I feel that I didn’t live up to the potential I know is in me.

I’m told I lack humility. I thought about this a lot and if lacking humility means I’m not Mother Teresa well I’m not. But I care about people a great deal and take much pleasure in helping them. I think I succeed more than I fail.

Am I self-centered? I sort of had to be as navigating the world wasn’t easy for me. I see people in the NLD community who are obsessive and self-centered about their children. That’s considered a good thing but making your own way isn’t?

That’s called advocating. People advocating for themselves are considered wonderful but people like me who were raised to question everything and might see another solution to a problem or another problem completely are considered to be troublemakers.

Unfortunately my parents are no longer on this earth. They would have have loved to advocate for me. They did but it was hard when you don’t know exactly what the problems are.

I want to begin the New Year feeling good about myself, and damn it I will because I’m more, much more than a series of negative comments and words.

I am obsessive. I don’t think that’s a horrible trait. I need to make up for time lost. Contributing to the world is very important to me.

OK I easily impress myself. An editor wanted to know if it was alright to print it. No, I wrote it to fill up bandwidth Several days later, very coincidentally, I was offered a reporting job, not for The Times.

Yesterday I was reading an article on NYTimes.com about Facebook and just had to comment. I knew it was too late to make “readers recommendations” and sent it off without editing or editing some more, In all five comments I have submitted in the past several years I only checked one and that made “readers recommendations.” For some reason I checked and it was an “editor’s pick.”

1177 Comments
NYT Pick
Dec. 13, 2011 at 4:54 p.m.

last week I was the object of derision on a Facebook group for people with an invisible disability. But without Facebook I would have never met so many people who share the same disability
For the first time in my over 50 years on this earth I’m learning to accept me for me thanks to Facebook
My family is closer than ever thanks to Facebook. I’m in touch with people from my entire life span. Seeing myself through their eyes was eye opening, humbling and wonderful.
A lot of people on Facebook are dedicated to being real. You just don’t have to tell what you had for lunch or who you had sex with when. Facebook is there for you to make your own experience with.

Damn I should have edited it. I should have edited it!
Yes I didn’t use my name nor did I link to a blog as many people do but….This means goods things are around the corner. The whole year has been great. Overwhelming but life affirming; filled with writing recognition and family old and new!!!

The sad but adorable irony wasn’t lost on me that I then went on Facebook and updated my status–even before calling my sister or best friend.

I will be back with a Chanukah post–The Miracle of the Ipad–an absolutely true story about how my Ipad might have saved my life. It’s more exciting than this post and never once mentions a newspaper. My sister called my Ipad story, “a sign from God.” She wasn’t sure about what!

Fortunately 37 is very mature. She looks just like the Deschanel sisters, Zoey and Emily but for some unknown reason my brother-in-law doesn’t want to know what 37 will look like when she’s in her 30′s and pregnant.

For those of you who have read Courting since its inception year, 37, then a little kid, will be going to college next year. Being one of us she likes to make life hard for herself and refused to apply to one school early admission but is applying to schools all over the North East. Because of me she’s a legacy to one of them! Unfortunately it’s not NYU which I left after one year. Kind of wish I had stayed so it could have been grandfather, daughter, and niece at the same school.

I don’t generally write about her as I have this grossly outmoded belief in privacy. I can talk about me but nobody else in depth. I can talk about the dead but that’s funny–generally they have living significant others, siblings and/or parents who somehow figure into every story. That does limit personal blogging a lot.

Oh Thanksgiving dinner was great as were the other ten days. I went to a new store in Huntington that only sells many types of olive oil and balsamic vinegar. I could taste them all but stopped after fig and vanilla balsamic as I was so overwhelmed!