"They Were Sisters"

Warning: Spoilers included in this review; if you have not seen this movie and intend to see it, you may not wish to read this entry.

"They Were Sisters" begins in 1919, with three sisters and their courtships. Charlotte falls for James Mason's character, a sexy but cruel young man who marries her and then heartlessly destroys her soul with his psychological abuse. Vera, rather cold and heartless herself, marries her young man but warns him ahead of time that she doesn't love him. Throughout their marriage she has affairs and blows him off until he finally leaves her and goes to America alone.

The third sister, Lucy, is a good and sweet person who marries a kind and decent man and they are eternally happy together. Their only sadness is that their only daughter died young. Instead, they shower their love on their nieces and nephew, Mason's children and the only daughter of Vera, the "cold" sister.

Eventually, Mason's character (Jeffrey) drives his pathetic wife to suicide, and he tries to cover it up by convincing Lucy to lie on his behalf and cover up his wife's drinking problem (caused by his mental cruelty). But she does the right thing after all and betrays him at the inquest, accusing him of murdering Charlotte with his torture and undermining. Finally Jeffrey is exposed and gets his just desserts, his reputation in tatters (though he can't really be held criminally responsible for his wife's death as he did not push her in front of the car, she darted out in front of it). Lucy and her husband end up happily ever after, with custody of all the children.

A curious feature of this film is that Mason's wife Pamela Kellino played his daughter in the film. Not only that but just like in his later film, "Lolita," Mason as Jeffrey obviously has some lustful intentions toward his eldest child Margaret. He sits her on his lap, holds her in loverlike ways, and talks about taking her on a vacation, just the two of them alone without her mother or the other children present. When she finds a young boyfriend, Jeffrey tears up his letters to her and does his best to break it off. It's clear that just like Humbert (who hadn't even become a gleam in Vladimir Nabokov's eye yet), he is jealous of his daughter's normal interest in a boy. He seems to love her unnaturally and yet his cruelty and domineering character comes out with her too. In the end, she sees through her father and rejects him as evil, and he is left with nothing. You can't help but applaud the ending, particularly when the good husband says to his good wife, "God's in his heaven and all's right with the world."

Mason was the worst sort of cad in this film but he was also gorgeous and sexy. His rare and calculated tenderness with his wife was all but hypnotic, and it was easy to see how a woman could be taken in by this sort of manipulation. I also saw a connection to "Gaslight" when Charlotte was so bamboozled by his derision that she began to act like the fool he continually accused her of being.

It's not a pretty story but I enjoyed it, and found Mason's sexy villainy enticing, even though in real life a man like that is exactly the kind to run far away from, as his wife's sisters Vera and Lucy tried to warn her before the marriage.

Dreams of Stardust

Lynn Kurland's Dreams of Stardust is another of her medieval/modern romances between a woman of the Middle Ages and a time traveling 21st century man. I'm seeing now that her stories are intertwined, as the same or related characters keep popping up in several of her books. Not a bad idea, it saves her from having to research a number of eras instead of just one.

I liked this story. Jake, a modern day gem collector and designer, is sent spinning into the past and falls in love with the beautiful Amanda. Amanda is similarly taken by him but spends much of her time feeling that he is unsuitable because he is a mere merchant and not one of the nobility. However, she has strong feelings for him all the same.

Jake is so smitten that he determines to win Amanda one way or another. He learns that he might be able to buy himself a title and impress the king with his swordplay or some other talent, and thereby make himself an appropriate suitor for Amanda's fair hand. So he undertakes the journey back to the future (our present) and finds himself in a dangerous situation and unable to access his considerable fortune.

Without giving away the ending, this is a romance novel and like 99% of romance novels has a happy ending. This story was a pleasure to read because of Jake's willingness to sacrifice everything in his modern day life to be with Amanda.

Years and years ago I had a boyfriend who loved me but would not commit because he was "too young." In retrospect, he was surely right. But at the time I was upset that he wouldn't take a chance. We watched "The Graduate" together and I was touched by the last scene, where Benjamin locks the wedding celebrants into the church with a huge cross and then runs off with Eleanor, still in her bridal gown to be married to someone else. He was so willing to make an absolute fool of himself to win her over.

Afterwards I had an argument with my boyfriend and angrily challenged him to "do something stupid for me." Well, he wouldn't, and it's just as well as his maturity hadn't kicked in yet.

But in Dreams of Stardust, Jake does "something stupid" in order to marry Amanda. I guess that's what appealed to me most, vicariously enjoying the love of a man who pulls out all the stops and takes impossible chances in order to get his woman.

Recently a man told me he read a book that told him that women marry for security while men marry to have steady sex. I don't think I went looking for security or mainly for security in a man. But I did go looking for a man who would love me enough to jump in feet first and not dally on the shoreline debating the issue forever. It's that quality that pleases me about Jake.

Amanda is the woman who is not sure of her own attractiveness. Her sharp tongue isn't valued by men in the Middle Ages though her brothers clearly adore her. But Jake appreciates her wit even when she sends her barbs his way. That's another thing I like about this book. If you get a chance, read it.

"You Never Write! You Never Call!"

Tonight Bruce and I went to a book signing at Barnes and Noble. The featured book was You Never Write! You Never Call! A History of the Jewish Mother. The author, Professor Antler, discussed the book and read some excerpts from it. She talked about the negative stereotype of the Jewish mother as being a sort of hovering, interfering vampire. We heard a few Jewish Mother jokes and even though they are dreadful I just had to laugh. My favorite is, "What's the difference between a Jewish mother and a terrorist? You can negotiate with the terrorist!"

Apparently Margaret Mead and a number of other anthropologists once did a study on Jewish families. They discussed the stereotype of the Jewish mother and characterized her as giving unconditional love but unfortunately expressing it through suffering, worrying and overfeeding her kids. To an extent I guess I fit that stereotype! She also said that for the second generation, kids of immigrant parents, rejecting the Jewish mother was a way of assimilating, distancing themselves from their roots. That, I don't identify with. My parents were the second generation, I'm the third.

It was an interesting presentation and I certainly could relate to it after we got so worried when we didn't hear from Jason for four days that we called up his Residence Director to get him to call us. I really don't want to do that again. It was quite a funny coincidence that this book signing came along right at this time. Maybe we needed a little levity injected into the situation.

She asked if anyone had any questions or comments and I spoke up about our worrying about Jason, and called myself a "card-carrying Jewish mother." I really do think I fit the worrywart part of the stereotype though I hope I'm not a "vampire." I'm also trying hard not to be a "helicopter parent," which Prof. Antler described as being very similar to the Jewish mother stereotype (though without any specific ethnic identity).

We didn't buy the book but I will look for it in the library. Here's the link: You Never Write! You Never Call!

Bearded Woman

This afternoon Bruce and I sent Jason the charger from the main post office behind Madison Square Garden. It's good knowing that there is a post office open 24/7 in this city, even though all that does is get a few hours jump on the usual mail. But this time it may get a more major jump because of Labor Day.

Afterwards we went to the Village and walked around a bit. We ended up in Washington Square Park and followed our ears to find a small circus, known as "Circus Amok," performing. http://www.circusamok.org The show was political and satirical in nature, with digs at Bush and the war in Iraq. Persons of indeterminate gender (were they bearded guys in skirts? Were they women after all?) performed skits, did acrobatics and juggled. I recognized one person, but I was not sure if it was a male or a female. He/she had a full beard but the voice of a woman. It was puzzling.

Later, I googled the circus and found an article about the Bearded Woman. Her name is Jennifer Miller. It seems she is quite an accomplished person, a circus performer, a writer, and a university professor. And the beard is genuine. She wears it proudly and refuses to be ashamed of who and what she is, though of course she has endured plenty of taunting and stares.

Because I have a problem -- hm, is it a problem? -- with excessive body hair and hair on my face, I found myself very impressed with and drawn to this woman who has not tried to hide it like a defect but instead is who she is without apology. She reminds me of the fictional character Sissy Hankshaw, the woman from Even Cowgirls Get the Blues by Tom Robbins. Sissy was born with huge thumbs and rather than hide her "defect" or have them surgically removed, she becomes the world's greatest hitchhiker.

Now here's a woman who is very much like that, but she's a real person who has lived with an enormous difference, a gender-bending difference, since puberty or so, I would assume. If I had a hat, I would have to take it off to her. I feel a certain kinship with her although I have tried to hide the hair on my face, and I have been put through so many awful treatments to try and get rid of it. Now I remove it myself, knowing it will always grow back, but I'm going to give Ms. Miller's attitude some thought and plenty of respect. I am not a performer and I can't go around being completely unconventional in appearance so I will have to stick with the solution I have chosen. Yet, I admire Jennifer Miller for having the courage to be who and what she is. http://www.maryellenmark.com/text/magazines/nytimes/917M-000-012.html

Emptying the Nest

Thursday morning we headed up to Delhi to deliver Jason to his college. I had some nasty tummy trouble on the way up there. Let's gloss over the graphic details, but just say I suspect I have irritable bowel syndrome or something similar. Anyhow we waited two hours on line for the bus to be sure we would catch it. Lo and behold, we had the same bus driver who gave us such a hard time on the way back in February. However, he didn't remember us at all, which is not surprising since he must have seen a couple of thousand passengers since then. His lack of recognition was a great relief to me since last time I thought he was going to deliberately leave us off the bus.

We got to the hotel just fine and then walked into town to scope out the route and do a couple of errands at the campus. We saw the outside of the dorm and then went up to the bookstore where we bought Jason a cable lock for his computer. Then we went back into town and ate an early dinner at the Pizza Factory.

Around that time Jason started complaining of a headache and sore throat. At first I didn't want to believe anything was wrong but by the time we got back to the hotel it was clear he wasn't well. He tried his temperature and it was elevated a bit. So, he went to bed early, and we hoped for the best.

But on Friday morning it turned out that he was still sick and in fact had 102 temperature. I realized then that our original plan of wheeling the suitcases from the hotel all the way into town was just not going to fly. So I called campus security and they sent their "Bronco Bus" service down at 7 AM to pick us up with the luggage. That was a great help!

Everyone was very helpful. There were move in crews and orientation staffers and the Resident Advisors were on hand to help also. I was pleased with the number of people available to be of help and how nice they were.

Jason's roommate arrived with his parents, his sister and his little nephew who must be around 2. They brought tons of stuff for Jonathan, including a case of "cup a soup" and a case of bottled water. I somehow doubt he will need all that but I guess just as I have worried myself crazy about Jason's needs, Jonathan's mother has worried about his. We've just expressed it in different ways.

The dorm room seems tiny and it was in battered condition after several young men have occupied it over a number of years. Jason received a huge list of all the damages to the room. Now I have to wonder, if they charge the kids for damaging the room, you would think they would use the money to FIX it, but apparently not! One track light doesn't work..and they only have two. The land line phone did not have dial tone, either. So they'd better get that fixed in a big hurry.

After we got Jason unpacked we went out to the orientation tables and he checked in. He got his ID card, and several other items including a free tee shirt and a planner. We proceeded to the meeting for students with special needs and he got his program. What a killer. On Mondays he has classes with just a few breaks, from 7:30 AM till 5 in the afternoon. Fortunately that is his absolute worst day and it gets better after that. He has no class on Thursdays but I'm sure he will need to study that day anyhow.

After the meeting there was a barbecue. They served half chickens, cole slaw and a fruit and bean salsa. It was delicious but Jason was still not well and he didn't feel like eating much. He just had some tortellini and bread. He went back to the dorm and took a nap while Bruce and I walked into town and bought him a phone card and two looseleaf notebooks to keep his lab manuals in. He didn't have his chemistry book packaged up with the rest so he is going to have to buy that later.

When we got back and woke him up his temperature was even higher so we insisted he go to the infirmary. Fortunately it is just a stone's throw from his dorm. That's a very good thing. The nurse practitioner looked him over, determined it wasn't strep, and said he most likely just has a virus and needs to drink a lot and take tylenol and rest as much as he can. I hope he didn't go to the picnic today but I guess he probably made that decision for himself.

Finally they had a "convocation" at 3. This was a lovely ceremony where the college president and department heads put on their academic robes and marched to the stage with all sorts of fanfare. They asked the freshmen to stand and formally welcomed them to the college. A few professors made speeches. The head of the Vet Science department told them he is a science fiction fan. Well, that's great to know because Jason can have some common ground with him on a subject that isn't just the schoolwork. I'm sure he will manage to strike up a conversation about sci fi and fantasy. Also this prof said that when he began as a Delhi freshman 35 years ago, he was very unhappy and hated the college for the first few weeks. But then, he decided he was going to make it work, and obviously he not only made it work but returned as a professor.

At the end of the convocation we said goodbye to Jason, wished him well, and let him go off to meet with the orientation leaders while we headed off the campus and back into town.

He wasn't really far away yet, though. So it was hard to believe we won't see him till early October. Bruce and I took a walk through the town. It's not very big in terms of the downtown area. There's a supermarket, a couple of antique stores, an occult store, a few restaurants, some liquor stores, and a general store, but it's quite small and unexciting. All of the excitement will be on the campus and not off of it.

We ate out at an Italian restaurant but had tiny chef salads. By contrast the chef salad I had on Thursday evening in the Pizza Factory was enormous. Afterwards we walked back to the hotel and watched TV. Jason called around 8 and said he was feeling better, and I asked him to call in the morning too.

He called around 7:3o yesterday morning, said he was better, and I reminded him to do something about the land line, because the professors use that line to contact the students. He has a cell phone but since his didn't work on the campus he and Bruce traded chips on Friday. However we hadn't brought Bruce's charger so Jason has not kept his phone on. Therefore I wasn't able to call him. I asked him to email last night but he didn't, and he hasn't today either. It's getting me a bit antsy but I'm trying to keep it in perspective and not get overly nervous.

We had breakfast around 8 and another couple was there. They brought their son to the college but because he didn't reserve his dorm room early he got caught in an overflow situation. So he didn't have a room to move into, and the college was putting him up at the Buena Vista motel! It sounds good except that he has to walk to the college and back and that won't be so pleasant after dark. It might mean he doesn't get to some parties he would like to attend, plus he misses out on the dorm experience. However they said he would probably get to move into the dorms sometime during the term because not everyone ends up staying.

These people also told us that some of the students had to double and triple up way over their rooms' capacities and that kids were "stacked like cordwood" with 6 to 8 in some rooms that were meant for 3. That sounds pretty horrible especially given how much crap some of these kids lug up to the school with them. Just imagine all those cases of cup a soup and the kids trying to sleep curled up around them! Jason is certainly lucky that he got his request in early.

We caught the bus back to New York at a few minutes after ten. Around 15 minutes later we reached Margaretville. Now over the two days we were there we kept seeing people we knew from BSEC. There was a woman who reminded me of Joan, and another man who reminded Bruce of Kurt. So when I saw a woman who reminded me of Annette I didn't think anything much of it, but commented to Bruce that I've been seeing people I thought I recognized all weekend. Then the woman got on the bus, and it actually was Annette, returning from a few days in the country visiting a friend! That was a great surprise and certainly quite a coincidence. I'm glad we had someone to talk to on the way home or we might have felt like lost souls. I certainly do feel a bit like that right now, especially since Jason hasn't called or emailed yet since yesterday morning.

But, I will attempt to keep my nerves under control. I expected it to be difficult and scary, emptying the nest and letting our little birdie fly free. And I was right. I will try very hard to give him space and let him organize things the way he wants to, but in another day or two I'll break down and have to call to see that he is all right.

Age of Majority

Jason turned 18 today and I have to admit I keep thinking of the day he was born. It seems as if he is being born all over again, as a legal adult and also he is moving out of the nest tomorrow, so that's a birth of another kind. Bruce and I have a photo of ourselves outside Beth Israel before I went in to have Jason induced. What an adventure that was! This will be an adventure too. In some ways it is as painful as childbirth. I've been so nervous that I have been tempted to scream out, "Give me drugs!" just like I did the night he was born. That's because the anesthesia wore off right when they were taking me off the table.

This time, of course, it would be tranquilizers and not an epidural.

Just like all the other times when we travel, I will worry excessively, think of every little detail that could possibly go wrong, and freak out over every little thing. And despite my bitching, we'll get there and we'll deliver him safely to his dorm. Then we'll retreat to the town and the hotel and let him start his brand new life on campus.

But for now, I think I'll make the attempt at getting to sleep.

Polar Star by Martin Cruz Smith

I just finished Polar Star which is the sequel to the bestselling Gorky Park. I can see why GP was such a smash hit. Polar Star is compelling also. Actually, the mystery itself kind of lost me but I very much enjoyed the vivid descriptions of life on a Soviet fishing ship, and the several episodes where Arkady Renko feels his life in danger. The walk across the ice from one ship to another is amazing and frightening. What an eerie and unearthly corner of the world Smith evokes. I would never have imagined that salty ocean water would freeze to the extent that it might be possible to walk from one ship to another. Ice floes with polar bears riding around on them, sure, I can imagine that. But this was just amazing.

The characters are well drawn and it was an entertaining book. For some odd reason I wasn't all that excited or impressed when the murderer was exposed. I was more interested in Arkady and whether he would escape with his life.

Now I suppose I'll have to backtrack and read Gorky Park.

"The Pumpkin Eater"

This is one of the few James Mason movies I really didn't care for too much. I wasn't thrilled with "Cold Sweat" either but that was really a Charles Bronson movie and he does nothing for me, absolutely nothing. All he ever does is star in ultraviolent movies. Watching that one was an ordeal.

This one was probably supposed to be more artsy. Anne Bancroft played a woman who seems to like to be perpetually pregnant. She leaves her first husband (presumably) and brings her 5 kids with her to live with husband #2 who stole her out from the first husband's nose. She is happy to be hausfrau and Momma, and really in 1964 when the film was made that was a woman's role anyway, so I don't know why people in the film are critical of her for it.

She finds out that her husband is cheating on her, and wanders through most of the rest of the film looking beautiful but pathetically sad. After a while I was tempted to say, "So what??" After all, he's right, when he says to her at one point that she wasn't a model of fidelity either. Most of the film is about her sufferings. She's lovely, she looks like a Jackie Onassis type in all those early sixties getups, but it got boring watching her sad doe eyes.

As for James Mason, he did a good acting job as always, but the character he portrayed was not simply a bad guy and surely wasn't a sexy bad guy. He was just plain despicable. Her husband was having an affair with his wife so he met her at the zoo, surrounded by all her kids, and told her about it in the ugliest possible way. He also made an insulting play for her apparently meant as revenge on her husband.

I was pleased to have seen the movie but I don't expect to be watching it again. It's too depressing. There were a few scenes that were pretty steamy for 1964, but they weren't enough to make it worth seeing over. This one I would miss.

Weird Dream

Last night I had one of those odd dreams where you don't quite know what time period you are in, or maybe you are somewhere outside of time.

I dreamed I was up at Delhi with Jason but instead of being in a dorm room the room I was in looked more like a summer camp cabin. First I realized we had missed lunch and I was not too concerned about that. I figured we'd go to a local deli (in Delhi..LOL) and pick some sandwiches up.

But then I realized Jason didn't have his suitcases and clothes either. That freaked me out and I called my parents...who have been deceased for years...on my cell phone, and demanded to know why they drove home without taking Jason's stuff out of the car. I wanted them to come back up and bring the suitcases, even though they had just gotten home.

The strange thing about this dream was that I didn't seem to know what era it was, and I seemed to think of myself as Jason's sibling rather than his mother. Sometimes I do wish I were going to college again, living on campus at law school was a great time in my life. Independence without responsibility, what's not to like? I think to an extent I envy him for being ready to go off to college and find himself.

As for the rest of it, I have all kinds of worries about getting his stuff up to school, and I wish we did have a car like my parents did. At least they just loaded up the car and drove up to Buffalo. But, I think it will all work out some way or another. It's just a high stress time. Once we get past that, we'll all adjust to it and probably enjoy the change. I know Jason is very excited about college and I am excited about having more freedom. So, bring it on...ready or not, here we come!

First Meeting of the "New Society"

Rick Blaine: We'll always have Paris. We didn't have, we, we lost it until you came to Casablanca. We got it back last night.

That's how I feel about the heart and soul of BSEC. We lost it for two years while it was taken over by people who came in determined not to trust or listen to us no matter what we said or did.

Last night we got it back.

Not the building...we may never meet in that building again, for all I know. But we got back the feelings we used to have when we put our energies together to work toward a goal and went for it, without the obstacles that were put in our way for the past two years. We got back the feeling of being trusted, of being heard. We could put our thoughts together and come up with ideas and plans and not have some suspicious person continually accusing us of wrongdoing and undermining our efforts.

It was wonderful to sit in a circle of friends again and feel that respect and trust, and the willingness of people to start something new and build it up rather than watch helplessly as the BSEC we knew is torn apart.

I felt like we were all midwives, birthing a newborn organization. And in fact we were. The baby hasn't got a name yet, and doesn't know what it will be when it grows up. But it was born last night and has about 20 loving and caring parents standing ready to nurture its growth. What an excellent start.

We've already got 3 reflections groups planned and a second planning meeting for September. I've volunteered for a task force and at least one of the committees. Looks to me like we are ready!

"Lady Possessed"

Tonight I watched the James Mason movie, "Lady Possessed." It wasn't his best, but I still enjoyed watching it. In this film, Mason played a pianist whose wife died after he removed her from the hospital against doctors' orders. At the same time, a woman who lost her baby was wheeled out into the corridor and absorbed what was happening in her semi-conscious state.

Then, to get over her depression, she and her husband rent a house in the country (it's called a cottage but it is pretty big for a cottage!) and it turns out to be the one that belonged to the De Palma family (Mason played Jimmy De Palma). So this woman begins to imagine that the spirit of the dead woman is inhabiting her. She wears some of the dead woman's clothes that are still in the cottage, dyes her hair dark to look more like her, and develops an obsession for Jimmy DePalma.

He is disillusioned and furious with her when he realizes that she knew things about his dead wife because she was living in the cottage and not because his wife was communicating with him. She tries to throw herself under a train like Anna Karenina but her husband stops her, and it seems that at that moment the peculiar delusion she was under is broken.

I always enjoy seeing a Mason film although this one was not my favorite. For psychological issues I much prefer his role in "The Seventh Veil." Still I was glad to have a chance to see this film, I am filling in the gaps of the ones I have missed.

"This is All I Ask"

I've just finished reading This Is All I Ask by Lynn Kurland. For a romance fan, this book was pure gold. It's set in the Middle Ages, another tale of an arranged marriage that turns into a passionate and lasting love. The twist here

Warning: Spoiler ahead








is that the hero is blind. His bride is terrified of him at first, because of his reputation and because of the violence she has learned to expect of men, but soon she realizes that he is a kind man and not at all the demon his reputation would have him.

The two of them don't seem to believe they are worthy of love. Christopher is convinced no woman could want him because of his blindness, and Gillian is convinced she is ugly and worthless. But they learn together and finally realize they can love and be loved.

It follows the formula; the obstacles, the misunderstandings and of course the heinous villain show up on schedule. But Kurland manages to keep the tale fresh and the characters sympathetic, even as they progress through the standard lovers' journey. It may be formulaic but it was still a delightful read. I recommend this book to fans of historical romance.

Mom's Egg Creams

I've had another article, "Mom's Egg Creams," accepted for publication in "Good Old Days" magazine. I received the contract on Saturday. It arrived under the name of some publishing company and I almost threw it out by mistake because I didn't recognize what it was. At first I thought it was another of those vanity press outfits trying to make a quick buck off of my desire to get published.

Then I opened it up and saw that it was a contract and I was being offered $20 for the article, which will appear in the March 2008 issue, if all goes as planned. Naturally I immediately signed the contract and forwarded two photos, one of myself in 1967, and one of Mom taken in the early 1960's. Fortuitously, she's working in the kitchen at our Sedgwick Avenue apartment where she concocted a lot of the egg creams I described in the article.

We had dinner with David and a new friend, Ellen, on Saturday night. Actually Bruce has known her for a long time because she belonged to a singles group he was in back in the seventies I believe. We ran into her at a business seminar at the Brooklyn Business Library the day Jason graduated high school and I have gotten together with her a few times since then.

Anyhow I was able to tell David that he will be mentioned in the article (provided they don't edit it out) because he was the one who tipped me off that Mom was sneaking raw eggs into my egg creams. It's amazing how our view of certain foods has changed, and now eggs are suspect. But forty years ago they were considered such an excellent food that kids who hated them (as I did) were forced to eat them practically at gunpoint.

I do have to say I was amused when I learned that brains, which I always found revolting and refused to eat, have been found to contain huge amounts of cholesterol. Maybe my childhood tastes in food as a child weren't so unhealthy after all.

Wait a second, that would mean that dumping a cup of sugar into a bowl of cold cereal, or half a cup of Fox's U Bet into my chocolate milk was healthy, too. I give it up. My tastes were my tastes. Some were healthy and others were downright horrendous.

Anyhow, I'm excited about another publication and it's inspired me to start taking my writing seriously again.

The New York Transit Museum

On Tuesday I took Jason to the Transit Museum. We hadn't been there in a number of years and he asked to see it once more before he leaves for college.

The Museum has changed some in the intervening years and Jason was very pleased with the changes. We saw an exhibit on how the tunnels and stations were built. What a massive undertaking that was! There was a timeline for the transit system, beginning with horse-drawn trolleys. I didn't realize that it was the condition of those poor overworked horses that caused the founding of the ASPCA.

I also hadn't known that in the 1850's, an African-American woman who was put off a trolley sued for her civil rights and won! She was 100 years before Rosa Parks but her name has been forgotten. I remember her last name was Jennings but I, too, have forgotten her first name.

There was a new exhibit on bus fumes and the fuels they use, and how to upgrade them so that they will do less damage to the environment. I also liked the collages on display, all geared to life in the subways. The "Beep Beep! Toys that Go" exhibit, on loan from the Toy and Doll museum, was cute also. Some of the toys were from the 70's and I recall seeing kids playing with them. Others dated back 150 years or more.

We finished up with a look at the old fashioned subway cars. It's amazing that I still remember riding some trains with the woven straw seats. Of course by that time they were frayed and bits of straw poked you in the backside when you sat on them. The old advertisements were a hoot and Jason took a number of pictures of them. I was amazed to see an ad for the Kingsbridge Armory, which I grew up near. I never knew it was enough of an attraction to be advertised on the subways.

It was a satisfying visit, and we finished up with lunch at a salad bar that charged $4.99 a pound. For the Court Street area that seemed very reasonable to me!

What's Wrong With August?

Every year on August first I have a miniature bout of depression. In July, the summer is just beginning, and it seems to stretch out endlessly before us. The sky is bright blue, the flowers are blooming, birds, butterflies and fireflies are everywhere.

In July, we have Independence Day, lots of barbecues, parades, fireworks and other celebrations. There's even Bastille Day if one feels like celebrating all over again with the French. But August seems to be a celebratory wasteland. There's nothing worth a day off from work let alone throwing a barbecue.

When the calendar turns to August, I'm reminded that the summer will end soon. I do like the beginning of fall but I dread winter ice and snow, so the end of summer isn't a thought I relish. Even though it is hot and humid and I feel as if I'm melting, I prefer to keep the summer going as long as possible.

Then when we get to September, I'm happier again. With the start of the school year it seems as if there is a new opportunity to learn. The beginning of fall is upon us then and I can appreciate the colorful leaves and more comfortable weather. So it's strange that I have this attitude about August, the second month of summer. After all, without it, summer would only last one month and be gone even sooner.

Maybe I need to reevaluate August and find some days to celebrate. Here are some little-known August holidays:

Daily:

1 National Raspberry Cream Pie Day

2 National Ice Cream Sandwich Day

3 National Watermelon Day

4 U.S. Coast Guard Day

5 Friendship Day - First Sunday in August

5 International Forgiveness Day - First Sunday in August

5 National Mustard Day

5 Work Like a Dog Day

5 Sisters Day - First Sunday in August

6 Wiggle Your Toes Day

7 National Lighthouse Day

8 Sneak Some Zucchini onto Your Neighbor's Porch Day - now that's nasty!

9 Book Lover's Day

10 Lazy Day

10 National S'mores Day

11 Presidential Joke Day

11 Son and Daughter Day

12 Middle Child's Day

13 Left Hander's Day

14 National Creamsicle Day

14/15 V-J Day - which dare do you mark the end of WWII?

15 Relaxation Day - now this one's for me!

16 National Tell a Joke Day

17 National Thriftshop Day

18 Bad Poetry Day

19 Aviation Day

19 Chinese Valentine's Day/Daughter's Day - 7th day of 7th Lunar Month

20 National Radio Day

21 Senior Citizen's Day

22 Be an Angel Day

22 National Tooth Fairy Day - and/or February 28

23 Ride the Wind Day

24 Vesuvius Day

25 Kiss and Make Up Day

26 National Dog Day

26 Women's Equality Day

27 Global Forgiveness Day

27 Just Because Day

28 Race Your Mouse Day -but we are not sure what kind of "mouse"

29 More Herbs, Less Salt Day

30 Frankenstein Day

30 Toasted Marshmallow Day

31 National Trail Mix Day

I could get to appreciate Book Lovers Day on August 9th, Left Handers Day on the 13th, and several others. I guess I will have to rethink my dislike of August and find some ways to celebrate these strange little holidays.

After the Gym

She walked out of Lucille Roberts behind me. Her hair was frosted, her skin was sun kissed and tawny. She could have been the Coppertone girl. She wore a simple white dress with blue and brown dots. It was sleeveless and had a full skirt, very relaxed and elegant. She was the picture of healthy, vital youth. And then she lit a cigarette.

Why? Why would she be smoking right after working out? Is it all just about beauty for her, and nothing to do with health? That must be it.

Things are Looking Up

I'm feeling excited and energized about the way things are going this summer. Jason has a summer job at the Aquarium, working in the cafe four days a week. He's also up for another part time job doing some typing for a home business, but I don't know yet whether he will get an offer.

Those of us who have been disappointed by the recent events at The Brooklyn Society for Ethical Culture are forming our own "club" and looking into programs we can start up that will please us and bring back the flavor of Ethical Culture we enjoyed in years past before the trouble started. We're having a meeting on August 11th to form committees and solidify plans for the fall.

So far we have a possible location that might offer us free rent, a few people volunteering to run platforms, reflections and meditations, a possible film night (watch a film and discuss the ethical issues involved), and of course, we should keep right on partying. I loved the potlucks we used to have once a month and I want to definitely continue that tradition.

I've also accepted a three-day a week position at a nonprofit organization, where I'll be writing grant proposals. I was pleased to learn that they are doing a technology upgrade and there will be training; I am always happy to learn a new software program or application. When computers behave I truly love them (though, when they are bad, just like the little girl with the curl, they are horrid!). So I'll be kept busy part of the time and can pursue other projects the other days.

That should keep some of the empty nest blues away as Jason departs for college on August 30th. I'm sure having a job to go to and learning new things will keep my mind happily occupied. So the summer is going well and things are definitely looking up!

More Coney Island Memories

I seem to be packing in a summer of Coney Island memories just in case Coney Island as we know it now really disappears under the control of condo developers. I hope not, I hope they preserve some of the original flavor, but right now that's very much up in the air. So whenever there is a special event this summer we are heading over there.

Yesterday we went to the Sand Sculpture contest. We arrived very late in the day, around 4:20 PM when the contest ended at 5. That's because we spent the early part of the day shopping and doing other errands. Some of the entries were already eroding away and not recognizable but there were a few excellent sculptures still visible. I especially liked the Coney Island castle, the sleeping mermaid, and the "Davy Jones" creature as he appeared in "Dead Man's Chest."

I've discovered a new hero, Dr. Couney. Dr. Couney believed in incubators to save premature babies and he set up clinics at various places including a sideshow at Coney Island. That's because before the late 30's incubators weren't accepted by the medical profession, and it was expensive so a lot of hospitals didn't even bother with them. They just let the preemies die!

Dr. Couney had 8,000 preemies at Coney Island and saved 6,500 of them. For those days that's a pretty impressive record considering the mainstream medical profession wrote those babies off. Ironically, Dr. Cooney died in 1954, the year I was born, and since I was six weeks premature and weighed 2.5 pounds at birth, I was in an incubator until I gained weight up to 5 pounds. Maybe his work -- even if it was a sideshow and people came to gawk at the tiny babies -- helped to save my life. Thanks, Dr. Couney!

At the Coney Island History Project I did some major arm twisting and got Bruce to record his story about his mother chasing the little clown who swatted her with a slapstick at Steeplechase Park. He was so reluctant until he realized he would be talking to a computer and not interviewed by a live person. Now it's on record and maybe it will show up in a book and on the Brooklyn College website. If it does, I'll put the link on here.

Siren Festival, Coney Island

On Saturday Bruce and I visited Coney Island for the Siren Festival. It was geared to the younger crowd but still was amusing even though we did not stay for the music too long. We left it to the background for the most part.

Instead we visited the sideshow and the Coney Island Museum. The sideshow was mostly sophomoric humor but it had a little of the old fashioned "carny" atmosphere. We saw "Chewie" the Wolfman who supposedly had an incredibly rare condition where hair grows all over the body. He had hair on his face all right but his hands were smooth! It was so obvious that this was makeup. Then "Chewie" did a "death defying" tightrope walk -- about three feet above the stage. On his way back, the MC increased the tension by putting a mousetrap under the tightrope. Wow, how scary, if Chewie slipped he might end up with the mousetrap attached to the seat of his pants!

There was a snake charmer, a woman who brought a large albino python onstage and struck a number of erotic poses with the serpent. She looked remarkably like the woman who had "power over electricity." Then there was the contortionist/sword swallower, a young lady who had some interesting abilities. Finally there was the "blockhead," the MC himself who somehow drilled a hold in his head or up his nose, without shedding a single drop of blood. Then he licked the "snot" off the drill. It was adolescent and weird, perfect for Coney Island!

The Museum is small and has some photos and artifacts. There were 3D photos of the Mermaid Parade, shimmering and changing as you looked at them from different angles. There were the woven rolling chairs that people sat in as they rode up and down the Boardwalk. There were also some ancient beach chairs and picnic coolers. I remembered the plaid one from my childhood; we must have had something like it, perhaps a thermos.

There was a movie that you watched while cranking the handle. Bruce looked into the viewer and was repulsed because it was a short film of an elephant being electrocuted. Ugh. I'm glad we don't consider that a form of entertainment today. I decided not to upset myself, and avoided that item.

There were posters on the wall describing the various parks. Bruce had a story from his childhood about Steeplechase Park, and the artifacts corroborated his tale. At the entrance to Steeplechase Park there used to be a system of blowers under the grating, and as women entered the park a blast of air would blow their skirts up. A dwarf dressed as a clown would smack the lady on the backside with a slapstick. This was all in fun and probably 99 women out of 100 laughed it off.

Not Bruce's mother. This time, the supposedly keen eye for "which woman with the severe and pinched expression will not relish any monkeyshines" failed that little clown, and Bruce's mother charged after him in a fury. Bruce was a small boy at the time and had the distinct impression that if she caught the clown he was going to be a dead man! She was gaining on him and he leaped over a barrier to escape from her. I always got a major chuckle out of that story.

In the glass case devoted to Steeplechase Park, there was a photo of a woman with her skirts blowing up, and also one of the slapsticks. I told Bruce that might be the very one that almost got the clown eviscerated!

After viewing the museum we were tired and caught the bus home. This Saturday, if it doesn't pour, there's supposed to be a sand sculpting contest, and I would sure like to see that.

A Thousand Country Roads

I just finished reading A Thousand Country Roads by Robert J. Waller. It's intended as an epilogue to the much more famous Bridges of Madison County. This book wouldn't stand well on its own, and Waller admits that. However, it fills in some of the missing pieces in the lives of Francesca Johnson and Robert Kincaid, the lovers who shared four days of ecstasy in 1965 and never saw each other again. Yet they both kept their love alive for the rest of their lives.

Warning: Spoilers ahead

Kincaid is 68 in this novel, in his last year of life, dogged by age and illness and loneliness that has finally caught up to him after a lifetime of wandering. There is a poignant chapter where he returns to Madison County and spends a little time with his memories at Roseman Bridge, just missing Francesca by moments as she makes a pilgrimage there on foot.

Unknown to Kincaid, a child conceived out of wedlock with one of his earlier shortlived relationships is searching him out and finally he comes face to face with both the mother and the son (but not all together at the same time). It gives his rootless life a little more meaning and he looks forward to seeing them all together, but it never actually happens.

Along with Bridges, A Thousand Country Roads tugs at the heart. We can't fault Francesca for sacrificing her dreams in order to nurture her family. We can't fault Robert for his wanderlust, either. All we can do is commiserate with the two of them as they approach the ends of their lives, still longing for what couldn't be. At least, Robert finds out that he is not alone and that he has left a part of him behind.

For fans of The Bridges of Madison County, this is a touching coda.

A Garden in the Rain

Yesterday I finished A Garden in the Rain by Lynn Kurland. Just what is it about Scotland, I wonder, that inspires all of these tales of ghosts and time travel? There seem to be so many of this new sub-genre popping up.

In this story, Madelyn has just been dumped and fired by her ex-fiance, a high-powered and spoiled lawyer. She arrives in Scotland to take her dream vacation of a lifetime only to find that the jerk has usurped her hotel reservations and gotten her credit card revoked.

She's rescued by Patrick MacLeod who seems to have a strange attraction to her, something that seems like a past life memory.

The usual romantic yo yo ensues, with both of them falling in love but not quite sure enough about it. Patrick gives up on the relationship twice and sends her home but of course, he loves her too much to make it stick. Somewhere along the way she falls through a time gate and is kept for several weeks in a cage, captive to enemies of the MacLeods. Patrick finds his way through after much difficulty and rescues her. Even her nemesis, the ex-fiance, has a brief and unpleasant stay in a medieval dungeon, which very much serves him right.

Naturally it all works out in the end and it looks as though she will devote herself to family rather than going back to her fast lane attorney position.

I liked the book overall though it became slow in places. The formula works but at times I wanted the two of them to just get on with it. Sometimes it's maddening reading these romances and knowing pretty much what is going to happen. And yet, it's fun, and the time travel element as well as the paranormal spices it up for me. I always loved science fiction and time travel was my favorite type of story.

While it's a little overly long for its own good, A Garden in the Rain is worth reading.

Computer Insanity

We've been engulfed in computer insanity ever since we started getting serious about Jason's need for a laptop up at college. The school help desk personnel insisted that we needed to have Windows XP installed on the laptop and not brand new Vista, which apparently has some kind of compatibility problems with a lot of existing software. A patch is coming in the fall but in the meantime they wanted us to stick with XP.

Thus began the search for the elusive Windows XP, which has almost totally disappeared off the market in favor of Vista. That's how much Microsoft wanted to force us to change operating systems, like it or not.

I found a Dell Inspiron 1501 that carries XP but has enough memory to accommodate Vista at such time as it is tamed and Jason is ready to install it without fear that it will make everything else go haywire. So we bought it. Got it into the house, and promptly discovered that it could not connect to our wireless router. We have DSL and they supplied us with a Westell 327W modem and wireless router when we signed up for the service.

First we called Dell and asked for help. The person who assisted us was continually trying to push us into buying a software support package for $239. I refused to buy it. So far as I knew I'd paid extra for us to have 4 years of lojack plus a 4 year warranty where they would come to the house and fix whatever was wrong. He connected to our Inspiron, diddled around in the software, and was unable to get it to work. Finally he concluded that we needed to speak to Verizon because it was a "router problem." This made it sound like our router didn't work.

Next, I called Verizon. First I got a fellow who sounded hesitant as if he was unsure of what he was doing. I should have taken this as a warning but I didn't. I let him try to help us make sure our router was working. At one point he had us do a hard reset on the router, which was a major mistake. This knocked us entirely off the verizon network and we had to sign on again as if it was an entirely brand new DSL system. Another hour to hour and a half down the tubes! Finally the Verizon techie admitted he had no way of knowing whether the problem was with our router or with the Dell computer.

Next, I thought of a way to test it. Jason's friend Noah was spending the night and his Mom Stephanie is pretty much of a computer techie herself. So I asked her to bring over a laptop and see if it could connect to our router. She came over with her thinkpad and after a little initial trouble she was not only able to detect our router but she got online with it. She also discovered that moving our computer around seemed to change connectivity.

So, she concluded that something was wrong with the wireless card inside the computer, it was loose or not properly connected or something. At one point Jason was able to detect our own router but at no time was he able to connect to it. A day or two later, he was able to get online but using other unsecured routers from nearby. This, of course, was unsatisfactory because it was completely unreliable.

I called Dell and refused to go through the troubleshooting rigmarole again. I asked for them to send a technician to repair the card but they would not do that. Instead they offered to send us a replacement computer. I agreed.

The computer showed up yesterday and was not any better at getting connected than the first one. Once again we called Dell, and this time got a manager on the line since I said that if something wasn't done I was going to return both of them and get a refund. The manager said there was a connectivity incompatibility between the Inspiron and our router. Wow! First time we heard of that. If we'd been told this clearly on the first phone call we could have saved a bit of time. He went through the sharing and tried to download some software to fix the router but it did not download. Our connectivity was slow and we got an error message that the software was corrupted. Gee, just lovely. Now I wonder whether we have to get rid of what was downloaded in order to get a new router to work. I bet so, because these computers are certainly nothing less than a royal pain.

So I called DHL and at least they came promptly and with no problems to pick up the replacement computer which was of no more use to us at this point than the first one.

And that's the way it is. With any luck the next phone call will take care of it. I sure hope that by August 30th when we head up to Delhi, Jason has a computer that actually does connect to wireless. After all we're paying for it!

The Spirituality of Food

On Sunday Bruce and I went to the First Brooklyn UU's and the topic was "The Spirituality of Food." There was a lovely ritual with bread and olive oil. People brought trays with delicious gourmet breads and bowls of olive oil to us, and instructed us to hold the tray for the next person until he or she broke off some bread and dipped it in the olive oil. So we were all serving each other. That can be a spiritual experience in itself. It reminded me of the "Kin of Ata" book where people did not feed themselves but instead went around at mealtimes serving each other, and there always was enough food.

As we ate the bread and olive oil, the people leading the service read aloud some quotes about olive oil and olives, and their significance in history and in Biblical times. Olive oil is very healthy, but olives had a great deal of symbolic significance as well. I felt as if this was an alternate communion, instead of bread and wine, we ate bread and olive oil that tasted like liquid sunshine.

Two people came up and gave short speeches on the spirituality of food in their lives. Both mentioned foods that had become "sacred" in their families because they were associated with certain holidays or family rituals. One woman spoke about her many anxieties about food because she has a restricted diet and always has to think about what she will be able to eat when away from home, or what to make for dinner when she is. I could certainly relate to that because I have so many restrictions on my diet that sometimes I feel as if I have more foods I am not allowed to eat than foods I am permitted. It can be disheartening especially when going out with friends and I can't sample something new and exotic.

But she went to China and had a wonderful time eating out in excellent restaurants where she was able to get foods she was allowed. By contrast, she told me afterwards that street vendors in China sell dumplings that are 60% cardboard. That's pretty repulsive!

There was also a guided meditation with fruit. This time baskets of fruit were passed around and we were encouraged to pick out a fruit (mostly apricots and cherries) and really sit with it and contemplate it through out senses. We looked it over, felt the skin, felt the stem if there was one, punctured the outer skin and smelled the juicy flesh inside, and finally ate the fruit, with far more mindfulness than I ever devote to eating.

After the service ended I spoke with a man from British Columbia who was visiting New York on business for a week. He is a UU member back home so he was pleased to find a UU church in Brooklyn and decided to attend. He said that he had lived in Fiji for a while and that the diet there is very exotic. But he also pointed out that people from other cultures are just as horrified by some of the things we eat as we are by their diets. He described someone from another culture's disgust at the "huge, ugly insect" that was served in a restaurant in America. Well, of course, it was a lobster! But if they were to serve crickets and grasshoppers here, most people would run out of the restaurant screaming. I sure would.

And yet, in many parts of the world, insect protein is part of the diet. It's certainly plentiful but I'm not about to rustle up a cockroach stew, no thanks!

Another item he mentioned was corn. Someone he met was upset at being served corn on the cob at and American barbecue, because where he came from, corn on the cob is strictly animal feed and humans don't eat it.

Now that's pretty amazing but even something we would view as completely innocuous could seem insulting in a different context (as if we went to someone's home and received a plateful of canned dog food for dinner). It certainly was an eye opener.

When I think of the spirituality of food I think of people eating together (breaking bread). It's supposed to be bonding. I also think of ritual foods that have symbolic meanings, like matzoh at Passover and the wine and wafers of a Catholic communion. We like to say that Jews eat our religion, particularly during the two Seders of the year (Passover and Tu B'Shevat, the new year of the trees), but other peoples do this as well.

Foods that are eaten only on special occasions or just very rarely become "sacred" and take on a symbolic meaning. Food can mean love, and people use it to reassure themselves that they are loved, which can become a dangerous obsession. There is a great deal of spiritual meaning to the very mundane and universal need for food, and the way in which individuals and cultures meet that need.

Brooklyn Botanic Garden

Yesterday Bruce and I took a few hours to visit the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. First I ran over to Lucille Roberts for the Step class at 9:15. I got home a little after 10:30 and Bruce and I were able to get to the Botanic Garden before noon. Admission is free before noon on Saturday mornings so we were happy to be able to get there in time for a freebie.

Although I love the flowers and plants there I have not always been happy with the policies so I'd rather attend when I don't have to pay. We smuggled in grilled cheese sandwiches cut into quarters because they are very strict about eating in the areas outside the cafe. That would not be so bad if they allowed you to bring in your own food and eat it there but they don't. So we walked along the paths keeping an eye out for security guards and cramming small pieces of grilled cheese sandwich into our mouths.

I was happy to see quite a few bees at work. I don't know if the bee population has rebounded any since we heard reports of honeybees dying off by the millions because of some mysterious ailment. But there were bees busy doing their pollinating thing at the Garden and that was heartening to see. There were also monarchs and cabbage whites fluttering about pollinating the flowers.

When we got to the Shakespeare garden, we could hear Bob Marley's "One Love" and "Three Little Birds" playing, followed by Cat Stevens' "Wild World." It turned out there was a festival in a nearby playground, but it wasn't very big or exciting. The music was good though and I kind of danced out of the park.

"Cats in Our Lives" by James and Pamela Mason

Yes, this is a book by the famous James Mason and his first wife, Pamela. They were avid cat lovers, especially Siamese cats, and chronicled some of their favorite cat stories in Cats in Our Lives. James also showed off his talent at drawing by illustrating the book with many line drawings (probably pen and ink) of the cats.

The cat names, "Topboy," "Zeke," "Lady Leeds" and the like are charming. James and Pamela took turns writing sections of the book and identified which sections, so that they did not have to attempt to meld their writing styles. The cats had fairly run of the mill adventures except that they belonged to a famous and quite itinerant family. Their travels by railway and across the ocean, and their adjustments to various new households as the Masons changed locales frequently, make the story lively.

Today's treatments for sick cats have changed greatly so it is an interesting window on the past to read of the remedies used in the thirties and forties (the book's copyright date is 1949). Although the Masons clearly loved their cats, I think today's pet owners might be appalled at their willingness to put down newborn kittens when there were just too many to keep. Today's remedy would be spaying the would-be parents, but back then it was apparently considered too dangerous an operation to spay a female cat, and therefore they allowed Lady Leeds to reproduce continually and only kept alive a couple of the males from each litter.

Despite this, when a cat was sick or lost they went to great lengths to try and find the cat or cure it, and they were clearly quite devoted to their four-legged children. I enjoyed this insight into their private lives and their thoughts, and I'm grateful to a Mason fan in the Netherlands who mailed this book to me. It's a keeper for sure.

Summer's End by Danielle Steel

Another book on my summer reading list! This one, Summer's End, came to me by serendipity. I was heading home from the gym one afternoon after a brief spring rain, and spotted a shopping bag full of discarded paperbacks. Some of them were damaged by water and too soggy to be useful but at least a dozen were in good shape. I brought home a few of these and Summer's End was one of them.

Warning: Spoilers Ahead!

Summer's End was entertaining and not an overly serious book, although it includes a shocking tragedy that I found unnecessary. It's the story of Deanna, a bored and neglected wife, and the love affair she has with Ben, a true soulmate who shares her passion for art and encourages her to paint and show her work. This is in contrast to her stuffy and snooty husband, Marc, who considers artists to be "hippies" and has kept her in a gilded cage throughout their marriage. Even their teenage daughter, Pilar, has been turned against her and considers herself completely French despite having an American mother.

Marc, of course, is embroiled in a love affair over in Europe where he spends a great deal of his time, supposedly travelling on business. Deanna doesn't know this but she does know that the relationship is stale, and that Marc doesn't really appreciate her for the person she is. Ben is the man who sees the real Deanna and adores her.

The jarring tragedy is the death of Pilar late in the book. This comes as an ironic catalyst for getting Ben and Deanna together even though at first she leaves Ben and tries to be there for Marc, who is devastated. But soon Deanna realizes that Marc's love affair with the young and possessive Chantal is not over, and she comes to feel she has made a mistake in leaving Ben. And then there's her pregnancy and the delicate question of paternity...

That's one secret I won't give away, and I won't give away the ending though since it's a romance novel the ending is pretty predictable. It was an interesting book, probably out of print now since the copyright date is 1979, but for a romance reader, if you run across it, it's good beach reading.

Snow Flower and the Secret Fan

I just finished reading Snow Flower and the Secret Fan. What an excellent but incredibly painful story. It's set in China, I believe in the 19th century, and tells the story of two women, Lily and Snow Flower, who are linked together in a contractual friendship that is much like a marriage. They communicate for many years by means of a fan on which they write in nu shu, the women's secret language unknown to men.

Yet the book is ultimately about a failure to communicate. Both women go through some terrible suffering. The description of Lily's footbinding is excruciating and something that will stay in my memory forever, just as I have never forgotten the passages on how sausages were made in The Jungle. (They almost made a vegetarian out of me).

But Lily, born to a farming family that doesn't amount to much, has the good fortune to come through this ordeal with beautiful feet that make her marriageable to a young man of high status. She is also "matched" to a young girl of a good family (but one that has fallen on hard times) and they swear their lifelong allegiance to each other.

Sadly, that allegiance doesn't last a lifetime. Lily becomes somewhat spoiled and overly conventional as a result of her relatively easy life with her husband and in-laws. She still lives a life of oppression, forced to put everyone else first and herself last, but at least she isn't abused. Snow Flower, married off to a butcher (seen as a great defilement -- yet people eat meat), is not so lucky. Her mother-in-law reviles her and her husband, though he enjoys her in bed, beats her unmercifully when he is unhappy. Lily does not respond with her true feelings; even though she is writing in nu shu and could feel freer to express herself, she takes refuge in conventional responses to Snow Flower's heartfelt pleas for help.

And so, finally, when Snow Flower tells her that three sworn sisters are going to help her, Lily mistakenly believes that Snow Flower has betrayed their union, and she reacts just like a jilted wife, cutting off Snow Flower and burning her messages. Only when Snow Flower is dying does she come and show the friendship she should have shown all along. Then she learns the truth , that Snow Flower always loved her and never betrayed her. Lily writes as an old woman who has survived past 80 years old, practically unheard of for a Chinese woman of her times. She finally confesses her cruelty to Snow Flower and seeks through her writing to find forgiveness.

There is an element of eroticism in the relationship and as young girls on the threshold of adulthood Lily recalls an erotic and loving scene where they "write" nu shu characters on each other's bodies and then translate what they are writing into the first lines of a famous poem. It seems these relationships between women had a great deal of meaning for women who were strangers in their husband's households and had very little status unless they bore sons.

The book was a window into a world that no longer exists. I'm not sorry it has gone by the wayside, for footbinding and the other mistreatment of women in that culture were not something to be preserved. It's interesting, though, to learn a bit of hidden history and forgotten culture that the author, Lisa See, brings to us. She apparently traveled to remote places in China where foreigners had never before set foot in order to gather her information, and I'm grateful that she did. I highly recommend this book.

High School Graduation

Jason graduated from Abraham Lincoln High School on Tuesday afternoon. Bruce and I attended and our friend Marilyn met us there.

The graduation took place at Walt Whitman Auditorium on the Brooklyn College campus. Brooklyn College has been voted as having the most beautiful campus, probably in all of New York City, but you couldn't see much of the campus because it was covered with a sea of graduates in royal blue and white. It seemed all the high schools used the identical color scheme, royal blue for the boys and white for the girls. The auditorium was being used as a revolving door, one graduation out and the next one in, immediately afterwards.

Marilyn found us on the line and we waited together until it was time to go inside. I was worried about her because her walker is defective and several times she's taken a bad fall already. But fortunately there were no mishaps. I ate a turkey sandwich before the doors opened, knowing that the graduation would not be over until around 3 PM and by then my sugar would be dropping through the floor.

As the parents entered and sat down, John Williams' "Olympic Fanfare" was playing. I love John Williams' music, most notably the themes from the six "Star Wars" movies. But I was waiting for one special piece of music that symbolizes graduation for me, "Pomp and Circumstance."

They did indeed play "Pomp and Circumstance" as the graduates moved down the aisles and proceeded to their seats in alphabetical order. Jason passed by very close to where we were sitting but I didn't try to take a photo of him, knowing it was not likely I would get a good shot. The processional, with "Pomp and Circumstance" playing in the background, was the only time I teared up a little bit. The rest of the graduation was a happy occasion but basically something to sit through while various speakers exhorted the graduates to "find themselves," "not be afraid to take risks," and "take advantage of all life has to offer." I'm sure there's a new and fresh way to conduct a graduation but so far I've never seen one.

However it still was a pleasant ceremony. Marty Markowitz, the Brooklyn Borough President, stole the show from the scheduled keynote speaker. He gave a rousing and inspiring speech, reminding the grads that above all they have to be trustworthy, and must respect themselves and others. He reminded them that "no one is better than you," and that each of them has a unique gift or talent to bring to the world. Marty is refreshing and funny, and he gets his point across with humor. At the end, just like he did four years ago when Jason graduated from Cunningham Intermediate School in the very same auditorium, Marty pulled out a toy lightsaber, waved it in the air, and bellowed, "May the Force be with you!"

I don't remember this from last time but he reminded the boys to be gentlemen and hold doors for the ladies, and reminded the girls to say, "Thank you!" That's a bit of courtesy that is finally coming back, and I don't think feminism will suffer as a result.

Afterwards we were starving so we stopped off at Quizmo's for a late lunch/early dinner. Marilyn treated us and we spent a happy 45 minutes or so eating and socializing. We got there just in time because after we were seated the place filled up.

I won't remember the speeches a week from now or a year from now, and neither will Jason. But I know he'll remember the warmth and friendliness of the teachers and other staff at Lincoln, the friendships he made and the people who went out of their way to help him. Most especially I think he'll remember his furry, feathered and scaly friends in the Animal Lab where he volunteered and worked on his first paid job throughout high school. He'll never forget the late great Hamlet, the fiesty rooster who pecked everyone but also won their hearts. He won't forget Bashful and Smokey and Corey the loudmouthed crow. Lincoln High School put his feet on his chosen career path in the veterinary technology field, and I know he will always be grateful to the people and animals who helped him to find his direction.

Mermaid Parade

On Saturday we all went to see the Mermaid Parade in Coney Island. Some years it seemed rather short, over almost as soon as it began. But this year, perhaps because Coney Island is under siege and likely to be radically changed by real estate developers, the mermaids and other "denizens of the deep" came out in record numbers. The parade went on for 2.5 hours and was the usual visual treat, only moreso.

First came the antique cars. This isn't my cup of tea but car aficionados must love it. After that the real parade started. I heard around 1,000 people marched this year and I believe it. Just about all of them had colorful, clever, and often risque costumes they created themselves. Many of the mermaids wore pasties or even went bare breasted but with some sort of body paint partially disguising their nudity.

All sorts of groups were represented, most notably the Cyclones, Brooklyn's minor league baseball team, the Polar Bear Club (those brave and crazed souls who swim at Coney Island every New Year's Day), and quite a few others. There were Mermaids for Peace, mermaids in Scottish garb, and a variety of sea horses, sharks, sea jellies (the new name for jellyfish, according to Jason), pirates and even two Elvis impersonators (what they have to do with the ocean, I don't know, but one of them kissed my hand, how charmante! and the other one carried a guitar that read, "A hunka hunka burnin' lard!"

Union organizers protested against Starbucks (one of the developers looking to destroy historic Coney Island), and another group carried placards that read, "Save Coney Island; Keep It Weird!"

The color silver was a dominant theme this year since this was the 25th annual Mermaid Parade. There was some concern about it being the last one but the parade organizers are insisting they will keep marching year after year even after the developers have their way. I hope that is true because I look forward to this summer solstice event every June. It's Brooklyn's answer to Mardi Gras, Halloween in June, and it's a wild and wacky event that should continue as long as the organizers still want to put it on.

Free At Last

Jason had his last high school exam, the Physics Regents, today. That's it. It' s over and I won't have to hang around watching to see that he does his homework anymore. I can go out evenings any time I want. I can get a job. I can do all kinds of things I have put on hold for almost 18 years.

As usual when something long anticipated happens I don't feel the elation I expected to feel. Instead it's just a flat feeling, almost a nonacceptance of this new situation. It's been so long and I have been used to building what I do around him. Now, one doesn't stop being a parent, but the level of responsibility has just dropped back quite a lot.

Now I have to decide what I'm doing with the rest of my life. Once I know where I stand as far as a job I'll be thinking about some volunteer activities. Chances are Bruce and I will want to get involved with the UU church in Brooklyn. It's time to stop trying to contribute where we are not wanted, and start contributing our efforts where they will be valued.

It's on to graduation and then summertime. Jason will be working and I hope I will too. I'm keeping my fingers crossed!

James Mason Biography

Not long ago I received a copy of James Mason, A Personal Biography, by Diane De Rosso, from a fan in the Netherlands who was unloading a lot of her collectibles.

De Rosso was Mason's sister-in-law, being the half sister of his first wife Pamela. As such she was a close friend of James Mason and had the opportunity to know the inner man -- at least, as much as he was willing to reveal. He didn't reveal that much of himself to many people, from what she writes.

The book is well written and balanced. De Rosso does not spare either Pamela or James when discussing their shortcomings as a couple. However she is discreet and does not reveal the names of lovers even though that would have made some very juicy gossip! She tells some very funny stories such as the pooch that "spent a penny" on the floor while being introduced to some gentleman. But there isn't a lot of humor because as a younger person Mason seems to have been somewhat insecure and lacking in confidence even though his acting ability was amazing. His marriage to Pamela was a loving one at first and she took on the managerial role, becoming quite the dominant wife/agent. Later, though, it fell apart and became quite nasty, and Mason seems to have been unable to defend himself. The man who was such a powerfully sexual presence onscreen was in fact vulnerable and lonely once Pam deserted him.

I was happy to read, though, that he found his true love in the last 15 years or so of his life and lived happily ever after with her until the day he died. He was a person who was driven to perfect his craft and be as professional and excellent as possible, and he deserved happiness. I'll be writing to Maria again to thank her for sending me this book.

Nine More Days

In nine more days, my life will change forever. Jason will graduate high school, and I won't have to supervise homework ever again. Freedom is just around the corner but it feels like it will be a million years before that happens. First we have to get through him studying for the Physics Regents, which is on the 21st.

I have so many plans popping in my head about what I'll do when he's done with school and heading to college in the fall. I hope I won't disappoint myself. Other times, I have. There were summers when he went to day camp and I had most of the day free. I used to promise myself I would get out to museums, meet with friends and do all sorts of things while he was out. But instead too often I wound up sitting at home in front of the computer or walking the same few blocks in my neighborhood, bored with the same old stores.

I don't want that to happen again. I'm looking for a job and this time around I think I'll find one. I would like to find a part time job but that seems to be much harder than full time. It's bit perverse because you would think companies could save a bit of money that way. But most jobs are full time and even more than full time.

Another plan is to attend more of the free events in the city. Unfortunately I had a good source of information on a website but it has been under construction for so long that I don't know whether it is going to be reconstructed or not. Too bad! But I can still go to the outdoor concerts and so on. Not street fairs, because the food is not on my diet plan and it's way too tempting when there is another food concession every 20 feet. But concerts and maybe free outdoor movies would be a lot of fun.

I'm also looking for some organizations where I can get involved and make a difference. Obviously BSEC is not going to be that place. I am thinking about rejoining Amnesty International, or finding another organization to volunteer for. Maybe I'll even decide to join a board. I'd like to get my book, "How to Kill a Church," published, too.

Also this summer we're taking part in the Power Up! business plan competition. I have not worked on my business plan at all but will have to start doing so. I don't expect to win the contest but I'd like to work with Jason and put together a plan so he can use it and set up a pet sitting business when he's done with his veterinary technology training.

So I have plenty of plans and I'm counting the days until I'm freed up from supervising studying, which has seemed to be necessary right up to the last minute. June 21st will be the first day of the rest of my life. I know it's a dreadful cliche but it is also true.

A Victory for Democracy

Last night at the BSEC Board meeting there was finally a small victory for democracy. After a discussion, the Board came to the realization (with perhaps one dissenter) that even a person who is the subject of a forensic audit which has not yet been completed and released has every right to run for the Board, and that it is up to the membership to decide, once informed of this fact, whether they want him on the Board.

It's about time such a decision was made since the President has been saying things for quite some time about not wanting to let certain people who are "out of favor" in some way or another run for the Board. That's really not up to the President!

I got a chance to speak my piece and I said there's been an ongoing fear of letting the membership make its own decisions about whom to vote for, and this goes back nearly two years already. If it can't be orchestrated so that they always win, the people in power now don't want to play. I also said that the "dirt" on this person (so far, completely unproven) has been known to the membership already for at least a year due to a telephone smear campaign that not only cast aspersions on him but on anyone associated with him.

The Treasurer kept trying to interrupt me but I raised my voice slightly and told her, "I don't want to hear from you right now -- I'm talking so you be quiet!" This gave me immense satisfaction. For once the meeting was run by a person who is evenhanded and fair, and who came down equally on both "sides" when they got out of line. Good for her: that's what our organization should be. Too bad that will all be reversed when the Prez gets back from her out of town trip.

Now on to the membership meeting and the elections. Bruce and I don't expect to be elected but we'd be pleasantly surprised if that happened. However we'll make our statements and that's that. Most likely, it will be on to better things.

"From This Moment On"

I've just finished reading From This Moment On by Lynn Kurland, thanks to cousin Ivy who sent me a boxful of her novels a few months ago. This one is set in medieval France and England and concerns the adventures of Alienore and Colin. Alienore, betrothed without her consent (not necessary in those days) to Colin, who is known far and wide as a merciless warrior, takes refuge by stealing her brother's armor and running away disguised as a young knight.

Ironically she ends up being assigned to protect a young airhead, er woman, named Sybil, who is the next one betrothed to the infamous "Butcher of Berkhamshire." Sybil is so terrified of Colin that she continually faints every time she meets him face to face, and locks herself in the solar with her maids in waiting and a huge amount of food. (Sybil also appears to be a likely candidate for Overeaters Anonymous if it had existed in the thirteenth century).

Perceiving Alienore as a young man, passing herself off as Sir Henri, Colin decides to teach the lad to be a sword fighter, since it is clear that this young knight's training has been less than sufficient. In the course of training together an attraction grows, much to the consternation of both of them. Alienore can't understand why she is attracted to so terrifying a man, and Colin is disturbed at the thought that he may be attracted to a young man.

Several people learn Alienore's secret, most of them supportive of her, but of course there is an obligatory villain who uses it against her. Her own stepmother is also a villainess in her own right and Alienore is endangered again when brought to her homestead in, ironically, a search for herself!

Of course, being it is a romance novel, all's well that ends well, and it does. I found this an entertaining and amusing story even though the events recounted were so improbable. Apparently in order to keep historical romance fresh it is necessary to invent convoluted and improbable scenarios so that readers will not become bored with the usual plots of abduction by a sexy pirate or forced marriage to the man of her dreams.

It's a fun book and I recommend it.

Patagonia Olive Oil

Coming soon to supermarket and gourmet stores; watch for it on the shelves. Wednesday night I attended a focus group where we discussed an unknown brand of olive oil, which we'd picked up in unmarked sample bottles and taste-tested for about a week.

I loved it. I loved the golden color. Later, when we saw it in the "real" bottles, it had more of a green tinge to it. But in the small sample plastic bottle, it looked pure gold to me, liquid gold. It said sunshine and luxury, and I could imagine being gently massaged with this oil.

I had never tasted extra virgin olive oil and the stronger taste delighted me. I felt as if I could just slightly taste the olives. Yet the taste didn't linger, and I found myself pouring more and more onto my salads as I ate them. Sure, it's high calorie, but at least olive oil is healthy, so I didn't feel too guilty about eating a lot of it.

The focus group amused me. I was one of those bridge and tunnel people in with the "real" Manhattanites. They are a whole different breed. These people talked about shopping in the overpriced gourmet stores like Dean & DeLuca, where you could pay $3 for an avocado that I can get at a fruit stand for $1.29. These were women who went home after a day's work and made bruschetta, or grilled fish and shrimp. They tried frying chicken in this oil and other types of cooking. All I did, unimaginative little me, was to put it on salad and mop it up with bread (after sprinkling pepper on the oil as it spread across a plate).

The others were much more upscale and conscious of the need to impress their friends. They wouldn't use plastic bottles partly because plastic is bad for the environment, but also because it looks tacky. Only glass bottles for them! I was the one person in favor of plastic because it doesn't break as easily and I live in a family of clutzes who drop bottles with alarming regularity.

They knew what extra virgin and "cold press" or "first press" meant. Listening to this was an education but to some extent I found it an education in food snobbery. Only extra virgin was worth buying. Lesser brands were all right in an ordinary supermarket, but the better brands belonged in a D'Agostino's or in the very trendy gourmet boutiques. People agreed that this unknown brand should be in the gourmet boutiques and named some outrageously high prices for a standard sized bottle.

We learned that the brand is Patagonia and that it is going to be marketed as an ecologically friendly olive oil, coming from unspoiled Patagonia. But one woman whom I found particularly snooty didn't like the slogan: said it was "too easy." They showed us two labels. I liked the blue label better but many other women there preferred the plainish offwhite label that looked boring to me. It was also practically illegible. Also, European foods were much better than American; Americans have no real standards about how food is prepared.

Right, that's why the foreign imports of flu vaccine were found to be ineffective because of bad handling and I had to get a second flu shot this past winter. The American system of monitoring food and drugs is flawed, but so is the European, but I guess these snobs would rather think that America is bad and all things foreign are much better.

I had a fun time discussing the olive oil and I certainly was quite happy to collect my $125 at the end of the session. It was also very amusing watching the trendy crowd, the upscale types who really would discuss Hemingway at a wine and cheese (and olive oil) party do their thing. I went home happy that I am not in that crowd and that I am down to earth enough to simply eat what I like without worrying about what people think of me for my food choices or the type of packaging those food choices come in.