Dear Cable Company, I’m Mad at You!

Dear Cable Company, I’m Mad at You!

Dear Time Warner Cable: Give me back my email! It’s been 10 days with no ability to receive or send email whatsoever. And all you have to say about the matter is that you’re having “issues.” Well I have issues … Continue reading

Queens Gal Remembers JFK Assassination

Queens Gal Remembers JFK Assassination

On Friday, November 22nd, 1963, disbelief coursed through my body, as did shock, confusion, and a deep well of sorrow. I was a kid who, until this moment, knew nothing scarier than Abbott and Costello meets Frankenstein or the Wicked Witch in The Wizard of Oz, whose freakishly-painted flesh made my own skin crawl.

I was of a generation raised by parents whose wartime experiences were still fresh, and who now craved better lives for their children. Entering an era of peace and prosperity, we were raised on Madison Avenue icons like Tony the Tiger and Elsie the Cow. Salisbury Steak TV Dinners were our go-to meal and Saturday matinees included a cartoon and a double feature. Jerry Lewis and Doris Day films were the best and all day long, AM radio played songs like, “Shake, Rattle and Roll” and Continue reading

And I Quote–Again

Fourth in a Very Infrequent Series:

I’ve packed my bags, I’ve watered the plants, and I’ve asked a friend to check my mail. Henry has made his way to his country estate (aka, my friend, Trisha’s house which boasts a BIG BACKYARD), where he’s sure to have a nice respite from Oliver and his tail-chasing antics.

As for Oliver, he will be attended to by his guardian (aka, my son’s girlfriend).

So, you know what this means. Yep, my son and I are headed out for a spell.

After all, it’s not everyday my youngest graduates from college. And, since she was able to score some tickets to the graduation ceremony—which, if you ask me, were about as hard to get as tickets to see Justin Bieber in concert (not that I’m in the market to see Bieber, mind you)—I figured the least we can do is show up.

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So, while I’m away, I thought I’d leave you with some pithy quotes to mull over (along with some cute shots of Oliver and Henry!).  And yes. There will be a test when I return! 😉

From the World of TV:

“Growing old is not a leper colony where an unfortunate few are sent to die. It is a precious gift given only to some lucky human beings.” — Dick Van Dyke, in his autobiography.

“It’s good to have an open mind, but not so much that your brains fall out.”

–The second wife, Nicolette, to the first wife, Barbara, in the finale of the HBO series, Big Love.

From Scandal–the enthralling series that lives up to its namehere’s a snippet of dialogue about whether to move the injured President Fitzpatrick Grant to Camp David.

First Lady Melly Grant:  Moving him to Camp David will make him look weak.

Chief of Staff Cyrus Beene:  He’s unconscious. He is weak.

“Mary is who you wish you were, Rhoda is who you probably are and Phyllis is who you’re afraid you’ll become.” -Valerie Harper, reflecting on beloved characters from The Mary Tyler Moore Show.IMG_1646

From Seinfeld, Part 2 of “The Trip,” in which Kramer relocates to LA, to pursue a career in acting.

Kramer: Things are going pretty well for me here. I met a girl.

Jerry:  Kramer, she was murdered!

Kramer: Yeah, but I wasn’t looking for a long-term relationship. I was on TV.

George:  As a suspect in a serial killing.

Kramer: Okay, yeah. You guys have to put a negative spin on everything.

From the World of Blogging (Because sometimes bloggers say the darndest things.)

IMG_1602“Regardless of what brings you to a blank page, remember to write from your heart and with passion. Write with integrity. Write honestly. Write with reckless abandonment. Write without expectation. Write with conviction, and sincerity. Write originally. Write what you know and then some. Write with spice. Write with love. Write from your heart. Write with discipline. Write for one reader. Write without filters. Write to a lost lover. Write with all of your senses. Write as if you were dying. Write as if you are making love for the first time. Write as if you are staring down the barrel of a gun. Write without doubt. Write without an editor on your shoulder. Write as if there is a camera on your shoulder. Write without compromise. Write what you feel.” – Brenda Moguez, Passionate Pursuits.

“We could have Pop-Tarts and cupcakes every day. We’d eat so many that our little babies would have sprinkles for dimples and icing for hair.” –  Thoughts Appear

“It is bad enough losing your voice but don’t get stuck wearing an anger muzzle.” From Paws to Talk

“I can have a father from the mafia, but not live myself, dismembered in some bipolar underworld.  I can be a sane, whole, and liberated lesbian.” – Kathryn,  Reinventing the Event Horizon

“Fly, fly on my butterfly.

My prayer is that

The spider’s web

Never intersects your flight.

Fly, fly on my butterfly.

I wish you sweet daffodils and golden buttercups

For endless days of flight.”

–Carl D’Agostino, I Know I Made You Smile

“He was so startled and overwhelmed by the feeling, my eyes filled with tears too.  And from that moment on, a powerful new identity took over my sweet, funny, loving husband.  He was now Daddy.”Lisa W. Rosenberg’s tribute to her husband on Father’s Day

And One More, which will give you food for thought:

“What kind of peace do we seek, enforced in the world by American weapons of war? Let us reexamine our attitude toward the Soviet Union, to realize the extent of the gulf between us. And, if we cannot end now our differences, at least we can help make the world safe for diversity. For in the final analysis, our most basic common link is that we all inhabit this small planet. We all breathe the same air. We all cherish our children’s future and we are all mortal.“  — President John F. Kennedy

So, how about you? Heard anything in the blogosphere or on TV that bears repeating?

Observations on the Oscars & Then Some

If you watched the Oscars earlier this week, then you already know.

That I wasn’t invited to present an award or to perform one of the nominated original songs.

Furthermore, unlike years past, none of the winners refused to accept the award on account of the plight of polar bears in the Antarctic, pirates in the Red Sea, or because they don’t believe that what happens in Vegas should stay in Vegas.

"Argo" wins for best picture.

“Argo” wins for best picture (and isn’t even nominated for Best Costume Drama). Sigh.

Not a soul gave a shout out to the Pope for being the first Pope to resign, not just in decades, but in centuries. And no one speculated on whether Kate and William are expecting a boy or a girl.

No one said boo about the impending sequestration this Friday, though First Lady Michele Obama, who presented the best picture award, came close when she winked into the camera. I know it was her way of saying, “Run for the hills! The sequestration is upon us!”

Yet, if anyone had done any of the above, it probably would have been Kristen Stewart, in an effort to distract us from her messed up hair, bruised arm, and an angry look that said, “I was just making out with Quentin Tarantino, but if you tell Robert Pattinson, I’ll come after you.”

And, by the way, blame me for Kristen’s hairdo. Or lack of it. Earlier that evening she’d lost her hairbrush and asked me to run to Target to buy her a new one. I was in such shock that she’d actually spoken to me at all, I plumb forgot. (Actually, it’s safe to say we never met.)

Anyway, on to my other observations of the evening:

The Oscars are predictable. Pretty much because anyone who’s won in other award shows, ends up winning an Oscar, too, and yes. If you ask me, Argo deserved Best Picture, Best Director (which it didn’t get, thanks to the incomprehensible wisdom of the Academy—sorry, Ben!); and Best Costume Drama (also did not get, don’t ask my why). I mean, did you ever see so many cool, retro fashions from the 70s since, well, the 70s? It’s like they raided The Rockford Files set and crashed head on into the cast of Barney Miller.  And, I swear one of those women was wearing the exact same pair of glasses I had back then. The kind that are so big, you look like you have the face of a fly. It’s no wonder they called me Bug Eyes back then. Sheesh.

The Academy makes mistakes. Ergo, leaving Argo’s Affleck out of the Outstanding Director category (and not inviting me to be a presenter).

Either ya got it or ya don’t.  Taste, that is. Those who wear stunning gowns always look, well, stunning, and those who wear “What was she thinking?” outfits, clearly never do.

Unlikely duos #1:  And, will somebody tell me why First Lady Michele Obama presented with Jack Nicholson, of all people? What was that all about? When he introduced her, I thought it was a joke, and I kept waiting for the punchline. In fact, I’m still waiting.

Unlikely duos #2:  There is such a thing as monologues that overstay their welcome. McFarlane’s seemed like it would go on forever. In fact, I’d appreciate if someone explained to me the William Shatner and Seth McFarlane bit. A little strange, a little off. But, it did provide McFarlane an opportunity to showcase his singing and dancing talents. Loved the soft-shoe he did with Daniel Radcliffe and that other guy whom I’ve seen before but can’t remember his name.

Barbra Streisand and Robert Redford in "The Way We Were."

Barbra Streisand and Robert Redford in “The Way We Were.”

Sexism is for the birds. Maybe it’s me, but the “We Saw Your Boobs” number was dumb and pointless. Haven’t we moved beyond such rudimentary “entertainment” by now? Last I checked, the sixties are over, so it’s okay not to be sexist. At least, that’s what I’ve heard.

I loved when the cast of Le Miserables came out and sang, in my estimation, one of the best songs of the musical. So riveting, emotional and empowering. Made me want to get up and fight the French Revolution with the rebels. Come on-a my house, Hugh Jackman, and I’ll give you one day more!

Finally, Barbra Streisand’s tribute to Marvin Hamlisch. Beautiful. Tugged at my nostalgic-ridden heartstrings, harkening me back to the streets of New York City, saying goodbye all over again to Hubbell—that gorgeous hunk, aka, Robert Redford–and stroking his hair. Enough said.

Oh and by the way, why wasn’t I invited to present–or sing, for that matter–at the Oscars?? Oh, well. Their loss.

Boomer Anthem

baby-boomers

BOOMER ANTHEM

by Monica Medina

I am a Baby Boomer,

Marked by autumn leaves turning to gold,

Sputnik, Bay of Pigs,

JFK, Camelot,

Uncle Milty and Your Show of Shows,

Dinah Shore singing, See the USA in your Chevrolet,

And Rod Serling scaring the bejesus out of me,

The medium is the message.

I am a Baby Boomer,

Forever waiting for the Good Humor man—not Godot,

Licking the cup of cola ices dry,

November 22, 1963 is seared on my psyche,

And later, the first landing on the moon,

One small step for man, one giant leap for–

–Ms. Magazine,

Caught up in the revolution of,

Women’s Lib, Feminist Mystique and Fear of Flying,

Burn your bra, burn the flag, Civil Rights,

Wild in the streets, NEVER trust anyone over 30.

I’d rather fight than switch.

You’ve come a long way, Baby,

But then so have I.

I am a Baby Boomer,

Celebrating Earth Day, a day we created,

While smoking grass, believing we could be

Anything we wanted,

My Generation, unique and unfettered by the Generation Gap,

Life’s a gas. Everything’s groovy,

Adam West perennially disguised as Batman–Pow, Bam, Whack!

Bob Hope playing golf and Soupy Sales getting another pie in his face,

Sock it to me, Baby!

That Girl–what girl?

My girl,

She’s in living color, Technicolor, playing the hits on the Hi-Fi stereo,

Has anyone seen my old friends, Bobby, Martin and John?

Can you tell me where they’ve gone?

I am a Baby Boomer,

Drinking the Kool-Aid, wearing culottes, hot pants,

Go-go boots that were made for walking,

Bell-bottoms and crazy hair down to there,

Nehru jackets and give peace a chance,

Good Morning, Starshine,

Vietnam, the draft and the fears

In the eyes of the boys I danced with,

In dark rooms at late night parties,

Getting stoned in the basement,

In the backseat of your Impala,

The protests and moratoriums,

The sit-ins where we,

Turn on, tune in,

Drop out, Drop acid,

It’s Psychedelic, man.

I am a Baby Boomer,

Who wasn’t here for Woodstock and Yasgur’s farm

Didn’t see Hendrix or Janis Joplin,

Nor your plastic Jesus riding on the dashboard but

I sang off-key to Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band,

And rocked the night away with Loggins & Messina,

Holding hands with you, basking in the moment,

Our Age of Aquarius,

Cut short by the rumor, “Paul is dead,”

When you played the White Album backwards,

Help, I need somebody.

Anybody.

I was a girl on the verge, after all, terrified of what awaited us.

I am a Baby Boomer,

Enduring the gasoline shortage, the meat boycott–Wheres the beef?

Dear Abbey ragging on a husband, a cheater,

What else is new?

Everything, nothing,

Outer space and the Russians are coming,

You took me to see the One on One concert at the Garden,

And smiled when you said, Who cares about Yoko?

We hated the Beatles’ breakup,

The end of an era, you said, and I nearly lost it.

I am a Baby Boomer,

Twisting, evolving, moving through time,

Wishing it to stop, knowing it’ll end,

The best is yet to come,

Disco dancing, feeling the beat,

Riding our bicycles at top speed,

Baby, we were born to run,

Exploring empty mansions then,

Downing chocolate Fribbles at the local Friendly’s,

Amid the blistering summer of Watergate that came and went,

John Dean testifying led to Nixon resigning and

Good, old Ford stumbling into a pardon.

The end of an era you said, and I knew it to be true.

I am a Baby Boomer.

Facing the 80’s with padded shoulders,

Greed is good, and the Me generation,

No longer the Pepsi generation,

Mesmerized by the Challenger Space Shuttle explosion,

And the forlorn teacher fulfilling her youthful fantasies,

Whatever happened to, Ask not what your country can do for you,

Ask what you can do for your country?

We miss you, John Lennon.

I am a Baby Boomer,

A product of my generation,

Drove my Chevy to the Levee and got lost,

Paving paradise to put up a parking lot.

Express yourself, respect

Find out what it means to me.

But I didn’t, and closing my eyes,

I sealed my fate,

Living together, tying the knot,

There was superstitious writing on the wall,

Like a ticking time bomb,

Stop the world, I want to get OFF!

Too late,

How easily we swapped

The marriage certificate for a divorce decree.

We are Boomers, forever young.

Wrapping our dreams in our backpacks,

We took off to see the world,

Time was on our side,

We saved but not enough,

We consumed and swore we’d be different–not like our parents,

We drunkenly kissed, making love not war.

I am a Baby Boomer,

Shell shocked by September 11th

Mourning loss and a world never to be the same again,

Grieving for the sense of security we never really had,

Playing Mother, May I? on the streets with friends until dusk,

Sometimes later,

While something ominous lurked, waiting, simmering, stalking,

Like a beam of light, cracks in the ice,

Hands extended, you let go.

I am a Baby Boomer,

Hearing the silence echo through the school halls,

The empty lockers that once held textbooks,

The notes passed between us,

Our secrets safe, the loneliness growing within,

Like a crescendo, it wails, it haunts,

Chewing gum stuck under classroom desks,

Elmer’s paste and inked-out hearts,

Laurie and Mitchell Forever,

Meaningless now.

Erasers on chalkboards,

Whoosh, it’s all gone.

I am a Baby Boomer,

We were going to change the world

And the world changed us,

We were going to explore new frontiers,

And scrapped the space program instead,

Fighting to end the Vietnam War, we traded it for wars in the Middle East.

Where are they now? The dreamers, the visionaries, the believers,

The ones with hope, the rebels?

Where are they now—the hippies, the hipsters,

The flower children, the skeptics?

I am a Baby Boomer, the product of my generation,

Commercialized, pasteurized, homogenized,

Crystalized and vacuum sealed,

Displaying my small pox vaccine–like a badge on my forearm,

Not ready to give up on Our Town,

Or throw in the towel,

There’s still a kick to these old legs,

There’s still bite to these teeth,

Not ready to say goodbye to Miss American Pie,

Yet knowing I once came close.

No longer thinking we’re going to live forever,

But still believing in that can-do spirit,

Love, compassion and goodwill to all,

Wrong from right,

Knowing you can’t go home again,

Unless you click your ruby slippers three times

And repeat after me,

There’s no place like home,

THERE’S NO PLACE AT ALL.

Now it’s your turn:

What does your generation mean to you?