Be careful what you wish for-Allan Sherman style JANUARY 16, 2017 ~ AROSEBYANYOTHERNAME2016

Hello Muddah,
hello Fadduh, Here I am at Camp Flor-ah-da
It’s not so entertaining
and they say I’ll have some fun if I stop complaining.
I went walking, with Jenny Eliasis
She developed a bad case of psoriasis
You remember Shirley Skinner
We are meeting for the early bird dinner.
All the sales people -over at the Walmarts – snuck in for me an extra dozen urine charts

Now I don’t want this
should scare ya
But my roommate has a bad case of diar-rhe-a
You remember Joanie Hardy
They’re about to organize a searching party.
Take me home, oh muddah , fadduh take me home, I hate Camp Flor-ah-da
Don’t leave me, at the casino -someone next to me forgot their beano
Take me home please and I promise -I will not make noise or mess the house with dappers (bingo)
oh please, don’t make me stay, I’ve been here one whole day.
Wait a minute, it stopped raining
I seem to like the music in the pool that they’re playing
Playing mah Jong and Canasta- who knows with bridge I could become a masta
So dear muddah and dear fadduh hold your horses cause I seem to like it better – I even started knitting you a navy sweater
Went to see Bye Bye Birdie and guess what I ran into Aunt Gertie
So for right now, hold it a minute -Cause I think I might get right in it.
I will write you some time later – if I don’t run into an alli-gator!

Nora Johnson who wrote one of my all time favorite movies died this past week at 84. The movie, The World of Henry Orient is a story loosely based on her very New York City schooled at Brearley, luncheoned at Romanoff’s life. With financial indulgences galore by luck and emotional limitations in abundance as a by product of a divorced home she managed to balance a well integrated life. She had three marriages, several children and grandchildren and attained a great deal of success through her well received books. Her third, late in life relationship turned marriage came when she was 71 with a man who was 84. The net/net on their years together was best summed up by her. And I quote- ” He had said I was his last, loveliest adventure and he brought joy and magic to my life. He died when he was 91 and I was 78. Only then did I start to get old.”

Attached is a blog from April 27, 2016 – The world of Henry Orient.
The World of Henry Orient

APRIL 27, 2016 ~ AROSEBYANYOTHERNAME2016

My dream away movie starring Peter Sellers as an eccentric concert pianist and two young Brearley-esque ingenues who groupie their way around New York City. I had a crush on the entire movie. The friendship between Val and Gil served as the prototype for my best friendships and our shared tuna fish sandwiches with malteds stirred by pretzels. It was based on a book by Nora Johnson written in 1964. The movie directed by George Roy Hill also extrapolated the concept of infidelity. Ah! men. I too had my own Henry Orient in high school. Mr. Schmoltze the Director of the all school musical was my man crush. Loyalty is Royalty. Good friendships never go out of style. Stay in close touch with the friends that touch you deeply. Friendship and trust are synonymous. “We’ll always be bosom buddies, friends, sisters and pals. “I’ll always be Alice Toklas if you’ll be Gertrude Stein. Auntie Mame had her priorities in order at least when it came to friendships. Sometimes we call our friend just to hear her voice. There is a treasured certainty in knowing we haven’t thrown each other out after all the tales of woe we’ve shared. Our discussions so much cheaper than therapy. We paint a picture, create a collage or write a poem inserting a compilation of shared memories. We know we will never “Walk Alone.” 

When the leaves were orange and the living was easy. What does the tooth fairy do with all the teeth? Why are the people in the front of the picture so much bigger than the people toward the back? Out of the mouths, when life was oh so mellow. 

We bought our first pair of silk stockings which were to be held up by a stretchy pink and white striped  garter belt. The days of Ozzie and Harriet, Susan Lucci and Soupy Sales. 

We re-dialed after our friends line was busy the first time and screeched with excitement, Conrad Birdie style, over our anticipated coed- girl/boy party that evening. After we sat under a hot dryer with beer can sized rollers in our hair we brushed away the fumes from our eyes left by aqua spray. The decision to curl our hair rather than iron it straight was a good one, our hair came out just right. Getting ready “Was” the excitement. Our new madras blouse and alpaca sweater hung prominently in the front of our closet right above our shiny, new cordovan colored weejuns. Bright, new Penny, dated 1967 heads up in place.

A touch of revlon blush, a glimmer of light pink lipstick proceeded a spritz of Ambush and we were on our way. With dejavu on my breath I can still recall euphorically how it felt when I unbuttoned the wooden clasps that kept my new Pea Coat in tact. The boys gathered on one side of the room as the girls sifted through the 45’s on the other. At this point there was no bottle to spin in sight. Would the Angels sing tonight as our soldier boys danced under the Blue Moon? 

The specialty years of pre-teening had a wonderful life of its own. We made room for our daydreams laced with Johnny Mathis lyrics. Our Barbie and Ken’s were  repositioned and left to fetch for themselves in the back row of our minds. In the still of the night I hold tightly to the memories that Jay and the Americans knew were those Magic Moments. 

Dear Harvey Weinstein,  Now you have everything wrong with you. I’ll give you that you knew talent, recognized a good story and had a great marketing team. Success soared, you made tons of money having a keen eye for who has that very special “something.” Your collaborations are what made you and what did you in. Furthermore a lot of people made a lot of money because of you and that’s the good news.

Recognizing opportunity and following through is luck In the making. Money only gets you so far and beauty is skin deep. In the eyes of the beholder you are a creep. I thought I was nauseated yesterday from acid reflux. Can you say air sick bag? You never got over being the guy in high school who wasn’t dancing at the prom with the queen. There was only one guy with her and they probably lost touch 45 years ago. So what, big deal you had other stuff that took you to the sky. There’s lots of attraction to powerful, successful men who keep it going once they found it. Charismatic for everything you had, only you got caught. You don’t 

wear egg on you face well and your nearest and dearest didn’t appreciate the look, to say the least. So as a proud woman who is 12 steps away from being swayed by you I hope for your sake your wife needs another Armani Suit and can Melania her way through this one. You are nothing more than an insulting, insecure, abusive misogynist. And by the way don’t have a good day or tomorrow either. Can you say busted? 

A -my name is Alice and my husband’s name is Al, we come from Alabama and we sell Apples. As I open the cupboard on memories, bouncing a Spaulding as we sang the A my name is Alice rhyme, lifting our leg over the ball with each bounce was an all time great walk around the corner and under a tree. A veritable, primordial work out and creative singing lesson all in one. My sister Bettie Ann and I grew up together and hung with the girls on the block. We stopped playing and walked home for our tuna sandwich or the treat of salami on rye, only made better with the delicious taste of mustard. After lunch we would walk around the corner to the all purpose grocery store. I can vividly see the barrel of pickles prominently sitting next to the left of the front door. We would use part of our allowance to buy candy. Our first go to was a stripped pixy stick, a straw filled with lik-m-aid. For those in the know it’s a tasty sugary retrospective in time. The original version of Fun Dip. We would then mosey over to the red licorice and marshmallow peeps. At Halloween the chicks turned into orange faced pumpkins. Fast forward 55 years. It’s 6:00 A.M. Time to put up the coffee, my turn to “make the donuts.” I woke up salivating for a piece of my past, inside that grocery store. My sister Bettie Ann and I would bring our bag of goodies up to the counter. The man would take the pencil he harbored behind his ear and tally up our treats. 

With our visual bounty in hand we would skip our way home and unveil the contents, perhaps trade a piece or two. 

Our afternoon was often consumed through adventures with Dick and Jane, The Bobbsey Twins or figuring out if Nancy Drew was ever going to hook up with one of the Hardy Boys. As we felt the heat of the oven cooking sweet potatoes we knew they would soon be sitting next to the lamb chops and canned peas for our dinner. A welcomed pre- dinner activity was watching Patty Duke and her identical cousin navigate their way through high school. We often tried to distinguish the subtleties in their looks. Hmmm! I long for those days of innocence when the doctor appointments took place as we sat upon the kitchen table. The local store that sold glass bottles of milk and farmer cheese made no room on the shelf for ammunition. 

Everybody in Grovers Corners looked into the grocery store and the drugstore once a day in –Our Town by Thornton Wilder. It is with older eyes and a wiser heart that I live my life. So, for today I will reach for the red licorice after a very sour pickle and make it a good Monday. 

Dear cancer- one day recently you stepped your way into our family. It was hard, it was strong and oh so deliberate. You flirted with us for years via one of your carriers a.k.a. BRCA 1- well now you went just too far. Re- think this deal. Take a second, third and fourth look over your shoulder and get ready for the fight of your life. Yes, we are scared, certainly we worry that your force and your power as we have heard is something to reckon with big time. You reared your disgusting head a little too close to our home. In fact you came in when we weren’t looking and you tried to steal our joy and rob us of our well being. We’ll get a grip, hold on tight because this time you reached the wrong family and by far the strongest one of all. Our force, our strength our guiding light takes no punch lightly. Get prepared to go back where you came from lesser than and shred to pieces. 
Yes, we went through angry, sad, denial and a hundred million more conflicting emotions. One thing you should know, in fact- the #strongertogether Bettie Ann spoke of when you were listening from the door you broke into means just that. The fight has begun. Our dear, wonderful Ali will stand up in front and because of your reputation as a dirty fighter take the long, hard, grueling punch, but not for long. We hear you aren’t shy. Well you haven’t seen the likes of this lady you sunk your dirty claws into. All the while we are right here collectively. We will stare you down, spit in your eye and stab you in your heart. The only propping up she will need is when you think you are winning. Wrong home, wrong person. When your punch is the hardest you can give we will get her back up and reposition her for combat. Also bitch while you do a 180 when you’ve had your way with her and turn away from our house- drop dead as you leave. Take a hike out of this universe and never pick on someone that believes in magic. You lost this time bud.

No “Pulse” Nightclub- Orlando, Florida – Today Las VegasJUNE 13, 2016 ~ AROSEBYANYOTHERNAME2016

“That certain night , the night we met, there was magic abroad in the air. There were angels dining at the Ritz- “And a Nightingale Sang in Barclay Square.” Words by Eric Maschwitz, music by Manning Sherwin. The song was written in 1939 in a French fishing village Le Lavandou right before the outbreak of the Second World War. Fast forward— On a steamy week-end eve you get dressed, put on your lipstick, turn off your music and walk out the door. You look forward to debriefing the week with a friend and meeting some new friends. You’re all set to chill in a high energy, safe haven club, on your local Barclay Square- the nightingales were singing. Dry martinis, familiar faces and music you listen to at home and know every word to. A perfect design for a five-star time. One would think. And then the World According to Garp doesn’t happen. No Lin Manuel, THESE senseless acts of tragedy are what is “promised.” Our promised land nearly 70 years after World War Two- on the the doorstep of World War Three. “Praising Isis, Gunman attacks Gay Nightclub, leaving 50 dead in worst shooting on U.S.Soil”– the headline in today’s New York Times. Yes, on U.S. soil, the same dirt that has a potential presidential candidate who made this horrifically designed tragedy about him. We scream in horror, we cry in disbelief as one more lunatic walks into one more gun shop and puts down one more stolen credit card. We then pay dearly for the laws that govern the strongest nation on earth. We pray for the insane and fund them in jail after they take away our freedom of choice, as to which place to dance the night away–that takes our Life away. In concentration camp like fashion we become prisoners of the loose cannon, suicide bombers who live to die. The adage of ” do guns kill people or do people kill people” is one big oxymoron. One avenue for slaughter is people buying guns. How long is congress on sabbatical from revising laws on buying over the counter rifles in a store that houses beef jerky too? Dear G-d please look in our direction. We need our backs covered and we are willing to double down for this.