Campus Woes

My brother, Dr Jim, reminded me that our Father graduated from Columbia’s Pharmacy School back in the 1930s. I knew that Jim was a Columbia alum before heading to Vietnam, and found out that Bob’s cousin was set to graduate from its School of Social Work! We first met Zoe when she was born in Rumson, and now she’s a beautiful young woman about to embark on her career. Only she asked her parents not to come to her graduation, beause she didn’t think it would be safe.

This is what it’s like to be Jewish today.

Graduations across the country are being rescheduled and cancelled all together. Why? Well, it’s complicated and quite simple, a contradiction to be sure. Israel is fighting a deadly enemy at its border… and Palestinians deserve to live freely. We are all adult enough to hold these two constructs in our minds. But there are biblical grudges and terrorist power plays. The extremists on both sides are destroying the dream of two states.

What if a terrorist group took over Mexico? What would we do? Never mind: “Organized crime groups are turning Mexico’s elections into a literal battleground, making the campaign this year one of the deadliest in the country’s modern history. More than two dozen candidates have been killed leading up to the June 2 vote; hundreds have dropped out of the race. More than 400 have asked the federal government for security details. The campaign of intimidation and assassination is putting democracy itself at risk.” https://wapo.st/4bCae1Y

MORE THAN 24 CANDIDATES ARE DEAD? I had no idea; and yet here, right here in these United States, we have a candidate who rambles on about a serial killer at a rally, postulated he could get away with murder on Park Avenue, and most likely considered hanging his vice-president if it meant he could stay in office. I Just. Don’t. Get It. And granted, i’m not watching the Manhattan trial of Mr T, I’d rather watch paint dry. Because right on schedule, our robin babies graduated to the backyard!

It was the day after a night of tornado warnings – a beautiful, cool sunshiny morning.

There was mild whooping and clapping as our birds flew the nest. Bob and I watched the first baby robin, perching on the edge, take off right into our maple tree! I was expecting a gentle flapping of wings with a soft landing in my begonias. But it was a flawless finish for the alpha robin. I immediately called the Bride and listened to the whole family ohhh and ahhh. And as we were busy kvelling, the second baby flew all the way out to our back fence, landed on the grass and promptly hopped up into Bob’s raised bed of vegetables.

It was 7 am and I hadn’t even had a cup of coffee. And I really needed that first cup because I’d been sleeping with one eye open. The last, smallest robin was still sitting in the corner, crying for his mama. We watched her return with a worm, or maybe it was a cicada, and she must have had ‘the talk’ with him because she didn’t come back. Over the course of the morning, we noticed the baby move closer to the far edge, but we gave up our post by the back door and went on with our day. We noticed our empty nest around lunchtime, and we vowed to keep the Little Emperor away for awhile.

I thought to myself, “Now we are empty-nesters again.” The week before the flash flood warnings and tornado sightings, I’d been waking almost every night to check on the robin’s nest. One night I thought i heard an owl. Another night, gigantic squirrels were bowling on the patio’s tin roof! I was returning to that sleep-deprived delirium of bringing home a newborn.

I read that Jerry Seinfeld spoke at Duke’s graduation on Sunday, Bob and the Bride’s alma mater. The comedian who joked about ‘nothing’ seems to have found his voice. Only a couple dozen students walked out of the stadium when he appeared, out of 7,000. They rose and left peacefully, because Jerry has the audacity to support Israel, to proudly declare his Jewishness. This is part of what he said to the Duke Class of 2024:

“Whatever you’re doing, I don’t care if it’s your job, your hobby, a relationship, getting a reservation at M Sushi,” he said. “Make an effort. Just pure, stupid, no-real-idea-what-I’m-doing-here effort. Effort always yields a positive value, even if the outcome of the effort is absolute failure of the desired result. This is a rule of life. Just swing the bat and pray is not a bad approach to a lot of things… also fall in love, not just with people, but anything and everything.”

Trolling Around

We’ve probably all been targets of internet trolls. People on our social networks who deliberately post provocative or humiliating comments would like nothing more than our response, our attention. Which is why it’s best to just ignore, block and report the trolls. Let them start a fight with someone else. But what if you’re walking along in a beautiful garden, dodging cicadas, and a gigantic, wooden troll appears out of nowhere? Well then, you engage. You listen.

Bob and I visited Cheekwood, Nashville’s Botanical Gardens last weekend to stroll among the whimsical sculptures in their Trolls exhibit: “Save the Humans.” It seems a Danish musician/artist, Thomas Dambo, has turned his creative sights towards crafting immense sculptures of trolls out of discarded construction pallets! They are not painted, they are meant to decay in fact. With one troll lying flat, listening to the earth, and another wearing recycled plastic jewelry, his message is clear.

“Thomas is known internationally for his larger-than-life Troll sculptures made from recycled wood. With over 100 sculptures all over the world, these Trolls have begun to have a life of their own. Popping up in Denmark, the USA, France, Germany, China, South Korea, Chile, and many more on the way, the message of sustainability and unlimited imagination have reached millions through in-person visits, shared photos, and international media coverage.” https://cheekwood.org/calendar-events/trolls-save-the-humans/

Once upon a time, Nordic people were sailing the seas, spreading their DNA along with their myths about giant trolls who lived in castles, not under bridges. According to Ancestry, I have a giant ONE percent Norwegian gene! You probably do too. Bob and I would love to visit Scandinavia next year. In fact, Norway looks like a fine first destination:

“On June 17, 2023, what they call the world’s first and only research station for the species of trolls opened in Rindal. “Home of the Trolls” is not just a research station for trolls. It is also a nature-based experiential destination with activities, outdoor adventures, local food, and exotic accommodation options.” https://www.visitnorway.com/things-to-do/art-culture/the-mythical-norwegian-trolls/

I wonder if the US would ever open a research station for Bigfoot? This morning, after sweeping more than enough cicada exoskeletons from the patio, I may have glanced at all the gowns celebrities wore to the Met Gala last weekend. Its theme was “The Garden of Time,” and aside from all the flowers and feathers one thing stood out to me – the hundreds of hours it took to hand embroider and create one. single. dress.

What is Mother Nature telling us? Giving us another solar eclipse, directing two cicada species to emerge from the ground simultaneously? Placing enormous, sweet Trolls in our path? Amid the constant drumbeat of two proxy wars, I think we must continue to plant and nurture our own gardens for as long as we can. Because 3 baby robins are flapping their wings over our patio, and they need the worms.

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Travelogue

Yesterday, the mama robin aggressively chased a squirrel out of our backyard. First he ran up our maple tree, then he jumped to the fence, and she kept at him, dive-bombing him out of sight. I knew she had babies to feed, because after family dinner Sunday night we all got to see them. Nerd Alert – Bob and the Groom hooked up a fiber optic scope to a broom and gingerly raised it above the robin’s nest in the corner eave of our patio – 3 little yellow beaks attached to fuzz appeared on the monitor!

It was a welcome sight.

Last weekend a perfectly healthy young man, a local chef, died running the St Jude’s Nashville Marathon. He collapsed at the 22 mile marker, and the Bride was on duty at her hospital. It is never easy on the first responders and the medical team when a young person dies. Bob has treated his fair share of accidental deaths; a toddler falling into a hot tub, a child slipping through the ice. It takes a toll.

But this is my daughter, and she has children of her own. Now she was tasked with consoling another mother – do they teach this in medical school? The runner’s whole family came from NY to watch him achieve his goal. His name is Joe Fecci and he was 26 years old, may his memory be a blessing. A Top Chef winner he worked with over the years posted this on Insta:

“I keep telling myself not to just keep asking why, but it’s hard. because i’m fucking angry and i’m heartbroken but i am grateful. i’m grateful i hired a 19 yo kid from new york sight unseen bc he sent me an email. i’m grateful he spent two years sharing a kitchen with me.”

https://people.com/joey-fecci-chef-26-dies-running-nashville-half-marathon-8640818

Almost every evening after dinner, Bob and I will take a short stroll and end up sitting on our patio. We watch the robin pair take turns feeding their fledglings. Baby rabbits chase each other around our cherry tree. But it’s not a Disneyesque moviescape. We also hear the never-ending sounds of destruction construction around us – the saws, the drills, the trees falling. I think about our fragility in the world, and how lightly we should tread. I’ve finished planting flower pots in shades of pink and purple blooms, I want to surround our small cottage with beauty.

And Bob has planted his vegetables in raised beds so as not to feed the rabbits. But they need to eat too don’t you think? Here on Saturday, we stopped for a picture at the Farmer’s Market with our cousins and their delightful friends from NJ. They are younger, their children are in college, grad schools and working their first jobs. They are in-waiting for grandchildren. We are all defending our nests.

The Next One

Someone at the Seder table asked the Groom about the outbreak of bird flu, aka H5N1 Avian Influenza, in cattle. He had just finished his shift as an attending physician on the Intensive Care Unit at his hospital. He was still seeing patients recovering from severe post-Covid complications. My brave, Intensivist son-in-law was about to dig into my specialty Passover brisket when he put down his fork, looked up and said, “Don’t ask.”

Despite the fear of another pandemic on the horizon, and the growth of anti-Semitism on college campuses, our family’s Seder went off without a hitch! The Bride delivered her traditional matzoh ball soup, the Bug chopped up a delicious charoset, and cousin Peg made all the yummy veggie fixings, with a broken toe no less. The little Emperor never left my side since he knows I’m a soft touch. Listening to the Bug read the Four Questions – Why is this night different from other nights? etc – in Hebrew – made my heart melt.

Lately, I cannot shake the feeling that this time is NOT very different to other times. SCOTUS news may be all about Mr T, and his so-called immunity case, but I’ve heard enough about the disgraced ex-president. The Supremes are also looking at the state of Idaho and exactly how physicians may practice their craft. Remember when I wrote about EMTALA? https://mountainmornings.net/2024/01/09/emtala/ It’s an Emergency Medicine cardinal rule that no one may be turned away from a hospital’s ER.

If SCOTUS strikes down EMTALA, because of the Dobbs decision on abortion, we will all return to the ‘good ole days’ of doctors refusing to treat patients for any number of reasons – like the wrong insurance… When Bob first started out in this field, clerks at the front door of an ER could toe-tag a patient, one who may be critical, to be transferred to a public hospital. Triage by socio-economic standing.

If EMTALA is struck down, ER docs would lose their license and end up in jail should they happen to save a pregnant woman’s life but lose the developing fetus in the process. Yes, once we women had no bodily autonomy at all. We had to use clothes hangers, or hire stealth nurses if we were lucky; or, if we could afford it we’d fly to another country. Today red states are passing trafficking laws under the guise of trafficking minors for commercial sex, like TN Section 39-13-309 in order to prosecute anyone trying to cross states’ borders for an abortion. Who will be (or was) the first woman to die because of these horrendous laws?

If this sounds dystopian, it’s because it is. But back to the other question at the Seder table, the one about bird flu. Who will be the first person to die of H5N1? The USDA has found the virus in milk but it is not monitoring it for some reason. Is it spreading via milking machines? Nearly 40% of cows in the Texas panhandle tested positive. Are they testing the water supplies? Nope, I guess we’re just waiting for the next pandemic to show up in Emergency Rooms.

“The C.D.C. says it is monitoring data from emergency rooms for any signs of an outbreak. By the time enough people are sick enough to be noticed in emergency rooms, it is almost certainly too late to prevent one.”The C.D.C. says it is monitoring data from emergency rooms for any signs of an outbreak. By the time enough people are sick enough to be noticed in emergency rooms, it is almost certainly too late to prevent one. https://www.nytimes.com/2024/04/24/opinion/bird-flu-cow-outbreak.html

I had to read that twice. So my daughter, and all her Emergency Medicine colleagues, may be prosecuted for doing their jobs and will be on the frontlines of the next epidemic. It will certainly be too late for prevention. Bob’s brother nearly died from Swine Flu. Have we learned nothing from history? There will always be threats to our liberty. There will always be a Pharaoh and plagues, and questions. But next year, will we still be a democracy?

This is us, two writers and a doctor, prepping for the Seder.

What To Do

What do you do when a bird decides to build her nest on your porch?

One of my favorite non-profits, besides Planned Parenthood, is the Audubon Society. I love perusing their magazine, soaking up stories of our feathered friends along with gorgeous photography. The new Spring cover shot is of a spindly-legged Wilson’s Phalarope (picture a large Piping Plover) standing on one foot, and the title of the issue is “Delicate Balance.” But the article that intrigued me the most on the inside was about cats – “Where the Not-So-Wild Things Roam.” It’s a funny and disturbing story about a cat called “Bad Kitty.”

Did you know that domestic cats that are allowed outside to roam about their neighborhoods are responsible for killing almost 1.3 BILLION birds a year? That’s just in this country alone. Now don’t get me wrong, I love cats. I can’t help it if half my family is allergic. When I was young and lived alone in NJ, Henry was my everything, my calico red cat. He looked like Edward G Robinson because at some point in his past street-life his jaw was broken. He had a short crooked tail too.

Henry and I would walk through the woods every weekend, without a leash. Of course, every now and then he’d have to zoom off but he’d always return. My cat had the run of The Great Swamp National Wildlife Refuge at all hours. In the early 70s, along with mom jeans, I didn’t know better.

The Audubon article suggests buying a large colorful collar for your cat, https://www.birdsbesafe.com/ if you must let them outside. Bells do nothing to alert a nesting cardinal. Birds however will see a feline approach if they look like they’re wearing a bright, hysterical clown collar. Better yet, if being in the great outdoors is essential to your feline’s well being, the author suggests building a “Catio!” Imagine a screened in porch standing alone with lots of cat architectural climbing details incorporated into its design.

I mean I used to let Aunt Kiki’s cat out on our sleeping porch in the Blue Ridge, and she did enjoy it – the view, the wind, the bears and the bluebirds. If you’re not into DYI, you could buy a Catio for a small fortune…

Yesterday I was hosting the little Frenchie Emperor for the afternoon, and he didn’t understand why I wouldn’t let him out the back door. I patiently explained that a robin was sitting on her nest directly outside between the pillars of my covered porch. He’s very cat-like in that he loves to chase birds almost as much as he loves to chase rabbits. I would open the side door and he’d look up at me like I was crazy, like it was absurd to go into the backyard through the side door when there was a perfectly fine and faster entry Right Over There.

“Rarely do we get this opportunity to get a front-row seat to a wild organism starting its life,” says Brian Evans, a migratory bird ecologist and project lead at the bird observatory at the Smithsonian National Zoo. “All we have to do is start noticing.”

https://www.washingtonpost.com/home/2024/04/15/how-to-keep-bird-nest-safe/

AND DO NOTHING. When a bird builds her nest in or around your house, just sit back and enjoy the spectacle. I put out ribbons for her pleasure but I don’t think she used them. And I noticed that when the dog was in the yard, she flew away and seemed agitated flying haphazardly around the fence. But when my neighbor came by and we sat talking underneath her nest, she stayed put! Birds are smarter than we think.

I’ve resigned myself to the early birdsong and the messy patio furniture, and hope that some squirrel or other creature doesn’t discover her nest. I figure it’s better than listening to the news in Israel, or Mr T’s trial in NY. I can’t worry about November with Passover approaching. It’s time to clean out the tsuris (troubles but also flour in Yiddish) from our lives. And pick the flowers in my garden.

4 States; 3 Days; 2 Grandchildren; 1 Totality

We arrived home Monday night around 10 pm.

A road trip back from witnessing the Total Eclipse of the Sun in Illinois took us 8 hours… instead of the usual 3. We joined the stream of satisfied Totality chasers heading south-east on 2 lanes, packed like lemmings, traveling stop and go on Interstate 24; the only highway between Carbondale, IL and Nashville, TN. It was almost an hour wait at the Cracker Barrel, so we ate Lorna Doones in the car and sang along to a Beatles station. A perfect end to an incredible weekend.

On Saturday morning, Bob and I flew to Durham, NC for the Memorial of a dear, old friend, forever nicknamed “The Smiler.” We attended Sacred Heart School together, but his reputation took flight in public high school as that Dude, The OG Dude. The guy who took life as it came, with a sly sense of humor. Sweet and unassuming, yet whip smart – Jeopardy level smart. Always willing to help his friends, as if the comic book high school hero Archie turned into a 60s hippie. The Smiler went to Woodstock with the Big Chill crew, then settled down delivering blood for the Red Cross in his signature porkpie hat.

All through the years, he and my good friend Bess were soulmates. Even though they married other people, they shared a daughter, Guinevere Turner. If you recall, Bess was the smartest girl in high school, and we both went to college in Boston – only I dropped out to get married and she dropped into a cult. In the Smiler’s backyard, Guinevere, an actor and screenwriter, led the memorial recounting the first time she met her father at the age of 18. Last year she published her memoir about those early formative years in the Lyman Family cult, “When the World Didn’t End.”

The next morning we flew home, only to get in the car and drive 2 hours to Kentucky with the Bride and family in preparation for the eclipse. We all managed to catch the second half of the Women’s NCAA Basketball Championships in our Paducah hotel. SC trounced Iowa 87-75. I marveled at how far women’s sports have come since I played basketball at Camp St Joseph. I understood why Coach Dawn Staley broke down in tears after the game, even if the Bug didn’t get it. I grew up trying to control my tears – big girls don’t cry, you never cry in public – but sometimes they burst out of you instead of simmering to overflowing.

The next morning, we drove to Southern Illinois University’s Saluki Stadium and parked with our fellow stargazers. It was the Super Bowl for space nerds. I learned a lot that day. For instance, bulldogs aren’t the only dogs a school can adopt for a mascot. I’d never heard of the Saluki breed, but they look like the progeny of an Afghan hound and a Whippet! And did you know that if you pretend that the sun is an empty ball, you would need 1 million earths to fill it up? Also, plan to charge your EV before a once in a lifetime event.

It was all worth the wait and the driving. It was everything and more. We saw the Totality for over 4 minutes which was great, but the Grands jumping for joy was the bestest! A cosmic dance the universe choreographs for a select few on this earth, and for us twice in a lifetime. In 2017 the Totality passed right over Nashville, so I knew what to expect – the slow-moving cold, the night crickets. But seeing the moon intersect the sun while our Grands were experiencing the same other-worldly, celestial magic trick was unforgettable. ps – the Pumpkin is hiding behind his sister.

A Lesson in Pysanky

We never heard the shots.

We did hear and see the ambulances and police cars speeding by us as we walked through a Germantown park on Easter Sunday. I turned to Bob and whispered, “I don’t miss living downtown” as a helicopter swooped north above us. I wanted to see Ada’s tree standing in a memorial grove of bald cypress behind our friend, Yoko’s, townhouse. Her three year old granddaughter ran ahead of us, holding her ears against the sirens. We were invited for lunch, and had just finished a lesson in creating Ukranian Pysanky Easter eggs.

I love discovering new things, and though I’d spent many Easters as a child dyeing eggs, I’d never heard of this particular art form. Yoko lit a candle and demonstrated her technique – first you put a special pen, a kristka, into the flame, then dip it into wax and simply draw your design on an egg. Believe me it is not that simple, especially if you want to apply more than two colors. It takes a steady hand and a lot of patience. If you’d like to give it a try, here is the Martha Stewart method: https://www.marthastewart.com/1514689/tips-and-tricks-to-pysanky-eggs

When we got home, our solar eclipse glasses had arrived on our porch. We are all packing up, Grands included, for an overnight stay this coming weekend in Carbondale, Illinois. So many people are making the pilgrimage, we’re actually staying outside of town and driving in that morning. It feels almost biblical; chasing the heavens in order to see the sun disappear behind the moon, to feel the chill and hear the night insects begin chirping. If clouds permit, this will be my last solar eclipse, unless of course I’m still kicking at 95 and find myself living the dream in Florida.

The next really BIG solar eclipse in North America will take place August 12, 2045, covering: U.S, Haiti, Dominican Republic, Venezuela, Guyana, French Guiana, Suriname and Brazil….plus the U.S. gets a big coast-to-coast eclipse. Totality as long as 6 minutes 4 seconds will be seen from Reno, Salt Lake City, Colorado Springs, Oklahoma City, Tulsa, Tampa, Orlando, Fort Lauderdale and Miami, with Port Saint Lucie, Florida, where totality will last the longest in the U.S. Expect big crowds at the Kennedy Space Center, Florida. “

https://www.forbes.com/sites/jamiecartereurope/2024/03/30/its-exactly-nine-years-until-the-next-us-total-solar-eclipse/?sh=2f59172f6779

That night we listened to the local news only to find out that a mass shooting had happened at 3 in the afternoon at a restaurant only a block away from the park with Ada’s tree. All the sirens, all the noise made sense. A convicted felon had pulled out a gun and killed a family man and injured his wife and daughter and several other diners over some minor altercation. Two complete strangers on Easter Sunday.

A year after the Coventry School shooting, our TN legislature is trying to pass a “Shooting Alert Button” Bill, instead of discussing the real reason gun violence is an epidemic. When will our country say enough is enough? In nine years another total eclipse of the sun will move across Alaska. Maybe we could ban assault weapons by that time?

Subliminally Speaking

Robins looking to nest have been hopping around my front lawn, while a sole cardinal, sitting in our maple tree, sings the dawn into existence calling for a mate. Every morning I stay in bed for just a few more minutes, to listen to the symphony outside my windows. Until my thoughts intrude – the ‘monkey brain’ of worry. Who will coordinate the medical appointments for my sister after another fall? That’s a big one.

Our health care system is so complex, how can we expect a nearly 90 year old to coordinate 3 specialists through a computer portal? It’s estimated that elderly Americans spend about 3-5 weeks a year getting and receiving direct medical care – it’s called the ‘treatment burden.’ That’s a lot of time. Not to mention arranging for physical therapy once the crisis has passed.

In addition to time spent receiving health care, this burden includes arranging appointments, finding transportation to medical visits, getting and taking medications, communicating with insurance companies, paying medical bills and following recommendations such as dietary changes.”

https://wapo.st/3TSEXlm

Bob has been practicing ER medicine as a safety net for friends and family since he retired. Send him a picture and he’ll tell you what you’ve got – is it shingles or poison ivy? Can’t find your doctor after returning from a trip abroad with Covid? No problemo. It’s nothing he hasn’t been doing forever, only it seems like there’s more complications lately. More people are falling through the cracks of a system designed to be reactive and profitable. Even people with plenty of resources and doctors in their families! It’s no wonder the American life span has started shrinking!

And it’s not only longevity that’s been affected. Last year, the US ranking on the World Happiness Report fell from 15 to 23rd – right below the UAE and Slovenia: https://worldhappiness.report/ed/2024/ But guess what? Interestingly enough, the old are now happier in North America than the young! My theory is that older people were better equipped to manage the pandemic. After all, planning for a bucket-list trip that was cancelled due to Covid and planning for a prom and graduation that never happened are both major phases in a lifetime, but they carry different weight. It might seem contradictory, but most things get better with time.

Our NJ cousins stopped by last weekend to stroll around the Farmers Market. It was a glorious day with all the redbuds in magenta bloom under a sunny sky. Their poodle, George, was overcome with pure happiness. He cried out to every passing dog as if to say, “Isn’t it great to be out with your human today!” We said hello to a celebrity dog, one I’d seen on the cover of a local magazine. And we decided on a variety of sambusas for lunch from an Ethiopian tent, plus plenty of pastries for dessert.

Today is the Hindu Festival of Colors, called Holi. Imagine red, green, blue and pink powder sprinkled on the air like glitter. In South Asian countries and the diaspora of Indians around the world, people are celebrating the triumph of good over evil, choosing love and renewal over fear. It’s a Christian Easter, the Jewish Passover. A reminder that Spring is on its way. Holi, Holy, Holey Moley. For millennia we humans have celebrated the end of winter and the beginning of spring. A season to grow and expand.

And even though I’ve found out my bones are more like balsa wood, I’ll continue to walk along the precipice of worry and beauty. I experienced my first tornado in March 2020 here in Nashville; but I also saw my first fleet of whooping cranes yodeling across the sky last month. We’re re-planning that trip to Italy we missed out on a few years ago with our chef/friends Marco and Claudio. Then we missed it again because of my fall. The French tarragon has erupted from its pot in my perennial garden, while the rosemary in the ground didn’t make it over the winter.

This life is a constant paradox, and that’s its beauty. Can you find George, the black poodle?

Where’d Ya Go Kate?

We were all sitting around the Bride’s sunny porch, when someone asked, “Can anorexia destroy your stomach?” Well, the doctors on the porch reluctantly shook their heads ‘Yes,’ while the rest of us began speculating about the health of a princess far, far away. And this wasn’t the only social gathering IRL this past weekend that turned into a royal sleuth fest. Bob and I saw our Germantown friends at a St Patrick’s dinner where most of the talk was about local politics, but eventually we waded into the Case of the Disappearing Princess.

Where in the world is Kate Middleton? My bet was on a hysterectomy, Bob just shrugged, and lots of us ran with plastic surgery of one kind or another… with complications… but who books a pre-planned hospital stay for TWO WEEKS? I mean you are in and out in 5 DAYS after heart surgery in this country! You’re lucky to get 3 DAYS after a C-section! It doesn’t add up. And since the Palace released a picture of Kate with her children for Mother’s Day in the UK, the firestorm has only increased. My reaction was – honestly, who doesn’t do a little editing now and then?

After all, we edited the Groom into a holiday card during the pandemic because he had to work in the ICU. We just placed him in his hospital-issued, PPE space suit right next to his wife, a mere centimeter off the ground.

Here in Nashville we have a real mystery to unravel. A 22 year old college student from Missouri, Riley Strain, was kicked out of a honky tonk the night of March 8 never to be seen again. Except: homeless people have reported seeing him; he was spotted on CCTV stumbling towards the Cumberland River; his bank card was found on the river bank; he spoke with a police officer in passing who asked how he was doing, only to say “I’m good how are you?” https://www.yahoo.com/news/newly-released-video-shows-interaction-200326733.html; and his last outgoing text to a girlfriend made no sense – “Good Lops.”

So how does a 6’5″ guy just disappear?

It’s been over a week and I’m afraid the outcome looks bleak. Why didn’t a fraternity brother follow him out of that bar? Why didn’t that cop stop him and talk to him for awhile? And my final question about our right to privacy (Kate Middleton) and a society’s need to surveil its citizens for safety (Riley Strain) is:

Why can our Congress pass a bill banning TikTok and NOT pass a bill banning assault weapons? Admittedly I am not on TikTok, nor do I want to be. But if the App is a national security threat, I would counter that assault rifles are a national health crisis and have no right being in the hands of ordinary people. Leave these weapons to the armed forces, they do not belong on our streets or in our schools.

Assault weapons and high-capacity magazines are frequently used in the violence that plagues our nation. From 2015 to 2022, mass shootings with four or more people killed where an assault weapon was used resulted in nearly six times as many people shot, more than twice as many people killed, and 23 times as many people wounded on average compared to those that did not involve the use of one. Some states and Washington, DC, have enacted legislation to prohibit assault weapons.”

https://www.everytown.org/solutions/assault-weapons/

If we really want to keep young people safe…

Fashion Forward

Last week I learned a thing or two about fashion.

Going into my fourth quarter century, you’d think I’d seen it all – mini skirts, gaucho pants, grunge, coastal grandmother. But did you know that short chunky heels are called Cuban heels? Hallelujah! Just when I thought my sexy heel wearing days were over, fashion throws me a lifeline. Of course, Carel traditional three strap Mary Janes have been a staple for French women everywhere. And after years of wearing Keds as a kid, and Asics as an adult, sneakers have become fashion gold for our golden years!

I must admit, I adored the Oscars, for the runway as much as the movies. In a week that celebrated International Women’s Day and Mother’s Day in the UK, talented women of all shapes, colors and nationalities were assembled. But when Jimmy Kimmel gave a shout out to the people behind the scene, the ones who make the movies work and stood in solidarity with the SAG-AFTRA strike – “The Teamsters, the truck drivers, the lighting crew, sound, camera gaffers, grips… all the people who refused to cross the picket lines, there they are. If you’re wearing Skechers to the Oscars, take a bow,” Jimmy said.

Yes Hollywood is a Union Town, and Fran Drescher is the bomb, but I didn’t see alot of women on that stage. Until women are represented in all areas of the industry, and paid equally btw, its point of view will always be skewed toward the male gaze. Except that Sunday night, Ryan Gosling’s show-stopper “I’m Just Ken” was a treat for every gender, from a film written and directed by Greta Gerwig.

Gosling was not even on my radar until I saw the 2007 film “Lars and the Real Girl.” He had the courage to act with a life-size blow-up sex doll then, so his progression to pink sequins was seamless. Home schooled in Canada because bullies picked on him, a tall, skinny and creative kid, his mom took him to an audition in the 90s for the Mickey Mouse Club in California. And along with Justin Timberlake, Gosling’s star was born.

The only strident chord I heard all night was when Kimmel referred to Holocaust films in general as “…rom coms in Germany.” The camera panned to Sandra Huller, a German actress who was nominated for two Oscars, including a part she plays as a Nazi housewife. The look of disgust on her face was evident, the turning away was swift. So why were people laughing I thought.

Barbenheimer Schilmanheimer! For the “Best Actress in a Leading Role” category, women can be found represented as world-class swimmers or as Osage, French, and Hispanic wives of dangerous men. Oh wait, what about the woman who won the category? That was Emma Stone for “Poor Things” playing a woman with a transplanted baby’s brain.

I think I’ll go slip on my pink Skechers and hit the greenway. I don’t have to get red carpet ready, just sunscreen and a hat. It’s sunny and 70s in Nashville today, maybe we’ll hit up the bagel store for lunch? I’ll ask Bob what he thought of Emily Blunt’s shoulder straps and did he think a BIG peplum was coming bacK. Was John Cena really naked under his Academy Award envelope for Best Costume Design?!?!

On second thought, I’ll wear my new Spring Asics.