In 1970, Elvis Presley decided to stop making movies, to refocus on his singing, and to bring a live show to Las Vegas. On August 10, 1970, he opened, wearing what was known as his White Fringe Suit. It also had gigantic grommets. Then he changed to a White Fringe Suit trimmed in dark red leather. Phfew. But he was still slender and he could still move and he looked great. Seated in the audience was Cary Grant. I know all this because I just saw a documentary about this concert on TCM. It brought back certain memories and thoughts. Ergo:

By the time I was 11, our good neighbors, the Powells, had moved away, taking their beautiful daughter who had been my favorite babysitter. So my parents hired another teenage neighbor, Carol, to babysit us when they would be out late on Sundays, probably at events at the Temple. It was a school night, so I would have to go to sleep before they would...

When I was 15 and 16, I used to go to the Plainfield Public Library and sit there reading books by Louis Auchincloss. I don’t know why I never wanted to take them home. I think I felt, or intuited, that I could not stay in the worlds he created were I to be reading them at home. In the library, undisturbed, I could immerse myself, take off, and be there for as long as I kept reading.

During that same time period in that same library, I also read William Saroyan. He used a phrase in one of his books, it might have been “The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze”. The phrase was “But I digress…” He’d be going on and on about something, one thought leading to the next, and when he realized that he was “off topic” he would write, “But I digress…” and move on to the next paragraph or chapter. I can verify which book it is – read through some of his books and see if I can find the one in...

[Originally written upon returning from Kenya in January 2001]

Nothing is as it seems. Everything is somehow more real and, simultaneously, too fantastic to be true. Scale and proportion play tricks on you. Shapes shift and turn from inert to mobile. Contrasts are unexpected and extreme. Things are closer than you think, or farther away; bigger or smaller; more dead or completely alive.

The lone tree in the distance turns out to be hiding a single giraffe who separates himself slowly and walks cautiously closer to check you out; the yucca plants at high noon have pointy shadows that turn out to be a zebra on second look, then a herd of zebra on third; the red-earth boulder alongside the road is an elephant who is followed by more; the black rocks are ostrich. The lazy logs floating in the river turn into gigantic hippos.

The transport truck seems to be carrying an enormous load of...

[Originally written on Friday, July 9, 1999 10:28 p.m. Portland, Oregon]

It was the top of the seventh and final inning. The score was tied. I certainly hadn’t helped my team of public relations and communications professionals: 3 times at bat, and I had only gotten to first base once.

I was in my usual position in right field. Deep in right field.

The bases were loaded. There were two outs. Any runs scored by Them would put Us in the position of catch-up during our last time at bat. We simply HAD to hold them.

She was up. The one from their team who looked innocent enough. But she was strong, and had hit a double during the 4th.

The count was full.
This was IT.
Pitch. Swing. CONNECT!
There it was, in its clear trajectory up, up, and over the heads of the pitcher and the first baseman. It was clearly coming right to ME! I had it in sight.
I knew JUST where it was and where it...

He had a quiet knack for turning the present into the future.
That’s what life is, isn’t it?
Doing something now that will result in what happens next?
Like playing Jenga.
Building a structure, keeping things in balance as we watch it grow taller.

What makes Jenga a game is that we have to start removing pieces which throws things off balance and eventually, the tower tumbles. That’s how that game is played. It’s a metaphor. A possibility for what can, and often does, happen in life.

But my father seemed prescient. He seemed to know in all cases that doing this or that would make everything OK. Like doing your homework and practicing the piano and eating spinach.

As a child, I had “curvature of the spine”. At the time I wasn’t sure what that meant, but certain things happened because of it: I was given ballet lessons starting at age 3; I had to do certain exercises, like stand in a...

When you die and go to heaven your maker is not going to ask: “Why didn’t you discover the cure for this or that?” The only question you will be asked is: “Why didn’t you become you?”
— Elie Wiesel

Yesterday, one of my colleagues from the Columbia Pike Artist Studios joined me as we walked to the Thai grocery store downstairs from CPAS to get some lunch. On our way, we told one another the unusual dreams we had each had the night before. Hers was about her daughter. Mine was that a man from the bank called to tell me that I had no more money. It was horrible. I woke up very glad that it had been a dream.

Right after telling her about that dream, I looked down at the sidewalk. There was a neatly folded $20 bill! I picked it up, examined it - it was actual currency! I looked around for other people – there were none. I looked around for a hidden Candid Camera – there was none.

“WOW!” I said. “This is incredible. Let’s split it.” She then noticed that there was another $20 in the middle of Columbia Pike. I waited for the traffic to pass and picked it up. We found 2 more: $80...

Stats: my former residence compared to my current residence
2,800 square feet to 840.
5 sinks to 2.
3 bathrooms to 1.
90 running feet of closet space to 12.
3 bedrooms to 1.
37’ living room to 14’.
25’ sun room to 3’ “deck”.
17 ‘ x 11’ den to 14’ x 11’ studio space/office/dressing room.
Spacious covered garage to open air parking lot under a tree in which
birds live.
In-unit washer/dryer to smaller in-unit washer/dryer.
One door (red) to apartment (with a 12’ x 7’ entrance area) to a front door
(red) that opens right into the living room (blech), BUT – bonus - a
back door! (also red, with an upper half that is glass).

Sidebar:
When I left Portland, Oregon to move to Washington, DC in August 2002,
I had a mantra – a haunting refrain: “No more mud. No more mud.”

Story:
I had flown to DC for my formal interview for the...

Baby blue Bonneville convertible.
Black and white Buick Special with red leather interior.
Pink Cadillac.
Red Corvette.
Two tone blue Dodge.
Forest green MG with luggage interior.
Jaguar XKE in colors with the same names as above.

Same with clothing. I used to wear so many colors, powder blue being a favorite. I had a pale blue dress and coat ensemble by Luba for my trousseau. As well as a white coat and dress by Luba. A red Jonathan Logan dress with a bolero jacket. A gold silk Jonathan Logan shirtwaist with a wide belt. To name a few.

I wore gloves. Shoes and handbags to match. Jewelry. No hats after the age of 10 or so. Found it kind of funny that Jackie Kennedy wore them, but understood that it was part of her job.

Pretty blouses with colored embroidery. Gray Poodle skirt with a red cinch belt and white nylon blouse with a camisole underneath. Mint green, like the beautiful dress...

My grandparents’ house was on 77th Street in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn. They owned the house and lived upstairs, rented the downstairs. The layout was a typical townhouse: a long series of connected rooms until it got to the bedrooms and bathroom in the back of the house. My primary memory is of my two-year old self on Sunday mornings, running back and forth through those rooms, from the front of the house to the back, listening to the radio as Ed Herlihy introduced the talent on the Horn & Hardart’s Children’s Hour. Each room had a different radio, and the different tones of the same sounds as I ran from room to room were my great weekly thrill. I ran through a universe of sound.

The sunroom overlooked the street where the trees really did grow in Brooklyn. Connected to it was a tiny room that had been my father’s room until he married. I was not allowed in there alone: fastidious to a...