bragging rights

subtitle: 60s hair and 70s hair, hair hair everywhere!
Well.... that's right. Another ban was waiting for me in my new mail when I arrived home from a glorious visit to MOMA. I cannot believe it. I was banned at my "hairstyle tips" forum!! I now totally own ban bragging rights!
I have always prided myself on my ability to do my own hair. I also love to share hairstyling ideas and to recommend products. So, I joined a wonderful hairstyle forum, and for months it was so much fun to discuss shampoos and conditioners and gels. I am totally addicted to glaze and gloss. I am fascinated by split ends and highlights and lowlights. I watch "Split Ends," "Hair Trauma," "Shear Genius,"and "Tabatha's Salon Takeover." I love to critique the styles through the decades.... including the artichoke and the bubble and the flip and the beehive. I know how to properly tease hair for maximum height.
I also adore giving recommendations regarding excellent Manhattan salons and one forum member went to a salon I had recommended. She wanted her hair shorter on top with the sides layered and angled. She came home yesterday and announced to the forum she now has a mullet. I can empathize. Nothing is worse than a bad haircut... but how is that my fault? We had a major typed fight at the message board and I posted (to add some wit and humor) that maybe for Halloween she can go as the "Bride of Chucky." Wrong posted reply. Banned.

whoa! rollers in the hair?!

Since I was banned at the fashion-forward forum anyway, I can reveal these photos with no hesitations! Look at this sister act! During a family trip to Puerto Rico in 1965, my sister and I walked around all day with rollers in our hair. I loved my bermuda shorts and the horizontal striped top completed the look. And take a look at my glasses. I was 40 years ahead of anything going on at Bryant Park. My sister opted for a ruffled top, but she does not look very happy with that half-hearted smile. I recall she was gassy that day.

fashion wishes and banned dreams

I was banned from a phenomenal "fashion-forward" forum today. Early today, my apartment was ransacked and these two photos were taken and posted at a thread. By 6 PM, I was persona non grata.

anonymous commenters

thwarted much?

most absurd comment ever

me (in response to an insulting comment from an "anonymous" reader): my students said worse things to me when I simply asked them for their homework.
then the anonymous commenter sent another reply: So let's see... your students hated you as much as everyone else does... and the only person who leaves supportive comments on your blog is YOU. Yup... friendless and alone.

How absurd is this? The commenter does not seem to be able to understand my tongue-in-cheek humor, or any of the many parodies and satires at this blog. She (or he) misses the point of all my (self-effacing) jokes. Then she writes childish conclusions (designed to hurt me) which are totally without merit (based on her fantasies and dopey cyber-analysis) and sends me her foolish nonsense in comments. Does she think I give two hoots about what a total stranger who never even met me says? I wear a shield of Gardol at my computer. She sounds like a moron... and a sociopath. And in the event that readers think I am over-reacting, this nudnik called me the "c" word in a sent comment! Let me be more specific: "an insufferable old c**t" Angry much? Good grief!
Hated? I had a wonderful retirement party at Tavern on the Green to celebrate my long and rewarding career. And when I bump into my former students they tell me they wish their own children had a teacher as excellent as I. There is no greater compliment.
Friendless? I am constantly socializing with friends and former colleagues at venues all over Manhattan.
Is this all designed in some obtuse way to satisfy her unresolved angers? My response is rather crass: shove your comments up your tuchas and stop harassing me already. You are better than a 10 mg valium. And just as predictable. Go endlessly "dine on the drama of other people's lives" at message boards designed for that ongoing activity. I have no interest in your opinions.
I am being proactive and disabling comments and thwarting the vitriol. I have no interest in "supportive comments" or any comments. This is hilarious. Just a scream. I should measure my entelechy by "supportive comments?" Is that like friends at a myspace page? :-D I have excellent self-esteem and I am quite satisfied to blog with no audience interactions. I smell a disgruntled and angry mod. Go ban 10 people...
The photo above shows my mother modeling how to handle idiotic comments. And the photo below pays an homage to Max Reger who responded to a critic: "I am sitting in the smallest room in the house. I have your review in front of me. Soon it will be behind me." -- Max Reger, New York Magazine, 7-8-1974

play dates

I want to give a shout-out to my The Transition Network. There are chapters in many cities and I encourage all women to remember "smart women don't retire!" Jerry and I have joined The Single Gourmet and we will once again be socializing with our dear friends at some of the best Manhattan restaurants. Please E-mail for stand-up comedy show details for November.

satires, roasts, and Don Quixote

Wheeeeeee, here we go again! Another ban arrived in an E-mail today. This one was rather surprising because the ban was actioned at a website which prides itself on celebrating differences of opinion and "freedom of speech." I am dumbfounded in terms of why this ban rolled in. And I was accused of being another member, which basically indicated I was posting under two user names. I said: "If you think I am (that name) then perhaps you also think I was the second shooter at the grassy knoll." I received a PM asking me why I was making threats. Good grief, I almost needed smelling salts after reading that. Perhaps I should have said: "If you think I am (that user) maybe you also think I am Elvis." The grassy knoll appears to be an obtuse reference these days and the joke was so misunderstood. You have to wear a seat belt to prepare for a forum mentality. And wear mittens when you think you might be provoked to commit a font felony!
Message boards are places for bored people who have nothing else to do.... and in my retirement they have provided me with many hours of interactive fun. I now am forced to accept that at each and every forum I join I will sooner or later be banned. One member at this latest place disliked me for using "sophisticated words." She called me arrogant. So, whether I am banned for not beginning a sentence with a capital letter or for arrogance.... I am never banned for an egregious violation of the forum rules. I just can't win. It's all nonsense really. But, there is a bigger picture and I am reminded of the Martin Niemoller quote:
"In Germany, they came first for the Communists, And I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Communist;
And then they came for the trade unionists, And I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a trade unionist;
And then they came for the Jews, And I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Jew;
And then . . . they came for me . . . And by that time there was no one left to speak up."
Speak up! If you don't, the cyber ban police will eventually come for you! Wheeeeeee....

1975, blue maribou and silver fox

Now I wear a glamorous housecoat and faux from Macy's...

my mother and Max Reger

My mother shows how to handle insulting commentary in her bawdy and irreverent homage to the great Max Reger. This was Mr. Reger's response to a savage reviewer: "I am sitting in the smallest room of my house. I have your review before me. In a moment it will be behind me." We should all, at various times, take a page from his book.

wired for a main course and dessert

The above picture is of my friend David, in full Bette Midler drag. He taught me how to:
"Dance like nobody's watching; love like you've never been hurt, sing like nobody's listening; live like it's heaven on earth" --- Mark Twain. That's a great mantra for experiencing life's main course.
And this is from my "Dr. Phil" moment: build your own lives instead of "dining on the drama of other people's lives."* Learn the art of self-involvement. And if you cannot break the habit of dining on the drama of other people's lives... have some dessert: dine on a body part, in the vernacular of course. *from "Mad Men"
This photo shows how two of David's dear friends reacted to several bad reviews.

Max Reger was a bit more literary in his reply to a savage review: "I am sitting in the smallest room of my house. I have your review before me. In a moment it will be behind me." And that's great advice for handling comments sent with the clear intent to hurt. Cheers!

that room, still "somewhere in time"

where men in the Army, stationed on the Aleutian Islands during WW II, would sit... alone, with a friend, or with friends.

from a sixth grade autograph book, 1958

my prolific parents



and the above, my photo when I was graduated from elementary school

Dear Diary, 1958

I did not seem to have too great an attention span. There are only a few entries, and much of the blue "Ponytail" diary remains blank. I do remember how much I loved "American Bandstand." I can still recall the regulars: Arlene, Kenny, Justine, Bob... We did go one Saturday to The Dick Clark Show, which was telecast from NYC's Little Theater. We wore "IFIC" buttons to advertise that a chewing gum was "flavorific." I entered a contest to name a handpuppet that appeared on that show. I named the puppet: "Retsmar," after a cousin's cat. I won. I got to attend The Dick Clark Show again, especially exciting because Fabian was the guest and he sang "Like a Tiger." I was in heaven!

a student goes to Washington

The year was 1973, and I was teaching grade 6 in a public school in the theater district of Manhattan. I entered my class in an essay contest sponsored by Bella Abzug and one of my students won. She went to Washington, DC to read her essay. I found this photo: Charity goes to Washington. And I also found the (now very wrinkled and faded) letter I received informing us that she won. That was over 35 years ago. It seems like so long ago. I guess it was.

in the shadows

top photo: my father with buddy in the Army during WW II
under that: October 1948
bottom photos: May 1962
These are my contributions to phoundfotographs.

Kiddie Rides

I sat in the microforms reading room in the Genealology Division of the New York Public Library. My obsession was old Brooklyn telephone directories. I surrounded myself with hordes of microfilm and I was determined to put myself in touch with the past. The year under my analysis was 1952. I noted with childish glee that Barbra Streisand had indeed lived on Newkirk Avenue. I moved on to discover the exact location of the old Garfield Cafeteria, and then I verified the addresses of my deceased grandparents.
The woman sitting next to me did not hesitate to reveal that she was adopted as a child and she was looking through material that might help identify her birth mother. Another lady searched through a roll of film that contained a list of the surviving soldiers of the Civil War. She was tracing history in order to compile a family tree. A man, who looked like Fyvush Finkel, was somberly looking through the Census records of 1920. All the visitors to the library were turning the wheels of the microfilm machines in complete unison! Oh, the fellowship of spirit! I felt we should all stand, hold hands, and sing a song!
Memories of summers filled with kiddie rides came flooding back to me. I remembered the miniature boat rides, the little car rides, and the small pony rides near the boardwalk. When I left the library, I longed with desperation to return to Brooklyn.
I wanted to walk down Flatbush Avenue in 1948, to go to old Steeplechase, to have lunch at the Famous on 86th Street... and most of all I wished I could visit my long deceased grandparents. But instead, I exited the library and found myself drenched in bright hot sunlight and walking down a long staircase covered in pigeon shit. I limped down Fifth Avenue because my heel spur was killing me and all the way home I disgustedly dodged the rushed Manhattan congestion.
I entered my apartment and immediately took a short nap. When I awakened, I did not know if it was evening or morning. It was still light at dusk, and I got into my car. I drove south on the West Side Highway and the pink sun soon sizzled and set to my right over the Hudson River. I was numb, and I headed for Coney Island. By 9:00 PM, I realized that the cure for my nostalgia will always be the smell of sea air, the sight of the Parachute Jump in the distance, and... Nathan's. ® WGAE 2004

leaving the building

On a hazy sunless Sunday, on a far-away boardwalk... a soon to be mother's walk away was captured in shades of mysterious gray.

the ride can take you

Spinning until dusk... or dawn
On a forgotten Ferris wheel
Left behind by the carnival
After roadsters skidded home
Along slippery highways. ® WGAE 2004

Ghost Story

I was down in the basement doing laundry tonight. As I was loading a washing machine, a young friendly woman named Darlene (who lives on the second floor) came down. As she moved her clothes into a dryer she hummed a soft tune. She told me she just moved in and we started talking. I have lived here for decades, and she asked me about the building. I told her many stories and she seemed fascinated about the history of the place. I said that some residents believe the building is haunted. She laughed and groaned: "Shuttt uppppppp."

I told her that in 1969, a man who lived next door to me committed suicide. He played weird music every night and on a stormy night I heard screams mixed with strong howling winds. The next day his body was found in the back of the building in a pile of wet snow. He had jumped out of the window. Since then, many residents who have lived in that apartment say they sometimes see a man covered in snow behind their shoulder when they are looking into the bathroom mirror.

In the 70s on Sunday mornings, a group of fun guys used to dance in the back courtyard to the soundtracks of different Broadway shows. Sometimes they presented entire scenes while dressed in elaborate costumes. "West Side Story" was their favorite. Every so often we hear theater music back there, and nobody knows from where that music is coming.

Darlene and I continued to have a conversation and soon it was time for her to go back upstairs. I asked Darlene to wait a minute before she left and then my expression became serene and my eyes must have appeared unfocused and glazed.

I told Darlene that tomorrow when she tells people that the night before she spoke in the laundry room to a woman named Marjorie who lives in apartment 8S... they are going to tell her that Marjorie died ten years ago. She screamed and goosebumps appeared on her skin. She backed away and declared: "Now THAT is not funny!"

I never saw her again. But I look out of my window to the street below and sometimes I see her down there looking up... and wondering.

my "Love with the Proper Stranger" coat

... and my Jackie Kennedy sunglasses.

family trip to Puerto Rico, 1965

I took the photo. My sister opted in this time. It shows she copied my daytime hairstyle: rollers to prepare the hair for the fancy San Juan nights in the La Concha Hotel. What a family we were!

1940: my mother

the seductress of Bensonhurst...

in the Brooklyn park

I loved to play around the Monkey Bars.

those cold toes

This was taken after a blizzard. We lived in Brooklyn and my father bundled me up and took me for a sleigh ride along Shore Parkway. I can recall how cold my toes got in the snow and soon after we moved to another apartment, not so close to the cold ocean. I liked our new home because I could still hear the sound of the fog horns as the ships pulled out to sea.

when the leaves began to fall

We moved to Long Island in 1952, and when autumn arrived the chilly weather turned the days grey and the views were bleak. These photos show a cold rain and empty vistas. The neighborhood seemed covered in a despondency that was trapped in an endless maze of mirrors.

a photo that was always a mystery

This photo has been with me forever. My father is on the left. It appears that he was on some radio show. Who was the woman? And could the host in the shadows be.... Bert Parks?
I enlarged the photo and lo and behold, my father was on "Stop the Music!"
Well, I'll be damned!

"Project Runway?"

This photo shows the felt skirts my 4-H group, "The Lucky Clover Girls," designed and made in 1958. I think we won a red ribbon for those skirts. We were so happy. So many years have passed since that sewing show, and if I close my eyes I can still smell the freshly baked cupcakes that sat on a nearby table.

2/25/41

a snowy Christmas day, somewhere...