life experiences Posts

1. Travel with Nana’s Kids

Traveling with Auntie Mame

“Auntie Mame”by Patrick Dennis..a travel adventure

The idea of Travel with Nana’s Kids  began 60 odd years ago when “Auntie Mame” the book by Patrick Dennis, arrived on our bookshelf when I was 15 years old, along with my mother’s second husband. While he did not last, once I read “Mame” I was hooked! I knew right then who I wanted to be when I grew up: a woman who adventured all over the world, taking her children or grandchildren, just as Mame did. *see link below

Years passed, I married, had three children, divorced, and  that summer suggested to my kids we rent a camper and tour Europe! Sadly, no one wanted to miss their summer activities or friends.  I consoled myself that someday grandchildren would arrive and my bar/bat mitzvah gift would be a trip wherever they chose to travel.

Sammy Comes of Age

At age fifty-six my first grandgirl was born soon to be followed, over the next ten years,by five more girls and three boys. Although not a wealthy woman I had already decided half my savings were for “Traveling with Nana Kids”. I could hardly wait!

And so when Sammy turned thirteen, the first to celebrate her bat mitzvah– I asked her “where in the world do you want to go?”With out batting an eyelash she chose London and Paris.

Now, while these kids were growing up I was not sitting at home. Travel was/is one of my obsessions. I traveled all over the world. London and Paris were visited often leaving me quite confident  about planning the itinerary. Sam offered the  plays and exhibits she wanted to see. I added these to  the iconic treasures and “must see’s”, on my list! We had two weeks and I filled up every minute.

“Auntie Mame” was born again as Nana and I could hardly wait!

*https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_4_11?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=auntie+mame+by+patrick+dennis&sprefix=Auntie+Mame%2Cstripbooks%2C146&crid=2QNOGHE9BLCDE

 

Chapter 30 “Imagine Me Gone”-a can’t put down read

 

Mental Illness and Family

Imagine Me Gone

“Imagine Me Gone” by Adam Haslett is a novel about love, loss and the power mental illness has over every aspect of family life. It is poignant, terrifying and sometimes strangely funny. Within moments of closing this book I was in tears remembering life with my brother, a man who couldn’t think straight.

At an early age, unbeknownst to me, he was diagnosed as a sociopath, a person without a conscience. He was handsome, charming, smart and funny. He married, had a child, and lived with our Mother. When she died I inherited him and discovered she had used her life’s savings to keep him out of jail. And then it began: he involved our family in a mind bending fraudulent scheme. When he realized the game was up he signed himself into a hospital swearing he was suicidal. Ten days later he was discharged into the arms of detectives waiting next to his stolen car in the hospital lot. He did time in jail. On his release he went to a men’s shelter. When he called I offered to pay first and last month’s rent for an apartment but said he was never to contact any of us again. He assured me I would hear about him but not from him. A few days later he committed suicide.

Reading this beautifully written novel of how a family survives the turmoil when a member has a broken mind speaks to the universal family experience of having illness in the family and how we cope. To quote Tony Kushner: “It is a magnificent work of art that overwhelmed me and broke my heart”.

Chapter 29 Yiddish and The Art of the Schpiel

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After sixty-odd years of an adventurous life those who have spent time with me are quick to liken my communication style to a linguistic minefield: In fact my language has been influenced by the Yiddish language, and its art of the schpiel, which welcomed me into this world.images-2

As a child Yiddish, in all its splendor, was the common language amongst my world of grown-ups. My grandfather came to America to escape the pograms happening all over what we now know as the Ukraine but at that time was part of Russia: Catherine the Great had settled all the Jews of Russia into one vast landscape simply known as the Pale of Settlements, a place where Russian was not spoken: Yiddish was the mother tongue.

The second wave of Jewish immigrants arrriving to my neighborhood were survivors of the Holocaust. Although these people were mainly from Germany and middle Europe, Yiddish was their common language as well, so they fit right in.

Yiddish had no boundaries, rather it was (is) a universal language among the Jewish people. Speech inflections and body language give nuances to simple ideas imbuing a mere word with an entire experience of an idea. Even as Yiddish is less frequently spoken with each succeeding generation so rich are some words and phrases that they are now included in the Webster’s and Oxford Dictionary.

To wit, who has escaped using the word “oy” And what exactly does it mean?  “Oy” is a word that speaks an entire sentence or an encyclopedic reaction to a situation imbued with dismay.  Usually “oy’ is accompanied by the word “vey” as the eyes roll up to the heavens asking for help from the powers that be.

Or schlepp or schmooze? Words that immediately give a visceral sense of what is transpiring!

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And finally, “messuganah’, a word that might be translated as crazy but it can also be endearing. As a youngster I took delight in doing multiple cartwheels in family living rooms and over lawns, anywhere. My grandfather would shake his head even as a smile grew upon his face he would say, “Midgie, you are messugie!”

Whether my conversation revolves around ideas cerebral, political or personal, it is the use of Yiddish that defines my views.  For me Yiddish holds wisdom and truth. It  is warm and loving.  It is my soul music.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 28 “Who Runs Congress”- an Awakening to Activism

Who Runs Congress

              An Awakening to Activism

 

 The Wonder of Discovery

It was 1973 when I applied to Northeastern University as part of a pilot program for women returning to school. At home were three kids, the youngest in kindergarden.

When the thin white envelope holding my acceptance arrived in my mailbox I cried. I was amazed they accepted me as I had left school six years before, and relieved I could escape the world of a suburban housewife which bored me to distraction. Now my curious nature had the freedom to explore the world.

Although I had previously been a Journalism major, this time around I opted to major in Political Science. My first class required reading “Who Runs Congress” by Mark Green. It was an eye opener introducing me to the issues of PAC’s, PAC MEN, Power, Perks, Congress vs. the President, the Crimes of Lawmakers, and finally the Resistance:” It doesn’t have to go on like this. Here’s what you can do to create change.”

This book became the basis for my becoming an activist. However, over the years my activism has been replaced by dismay with Washington politics. These last eight years have seen the toxic flowering of a Congress largely influenced by private wealth but whose seeds have been germinating a long time, a Congress increasingly paralyzed by its own self-interests, and thus, not governing for its constituents.

Mark Green warns “He who has the gold, rules”. This rule now appears to be on steroids.

The Case for Activism

Somewhere it is written those who do not read history are doomed to repeat it. As I reread this book I confess I am  among the guilty who has stood by while the “gold” infiltrated our governing body. Thus, in reparation, I offer this book as a means to  better understand the “gold” that endangers the democracy we hold so dear, and perhaps begin a conversation to reclaim Congress, our country and our lives.

Let’s talk.

Who Runs Congress is available, used, through Amazon and other used book outlets .

 

 

Chapter 26 In Praise of YoungerMen: Jean Moreau and Me

 

In Praise of Younger Men

Jean Moreau and Me: In Praise of Younger Men

During fourteen years of serious serial dating, after my divorce, I rarely, if ever, dated men my age or older, rather I often indulged in relationships with men sometimes twenty years younger. My son survived this phase by telling me when one of my young men lasted a year I was welcome to introduce him to the family. Not one lasted a year. Still I had a penchant for younger men and struggled with, after the obvious, why this was so, until I read this 2003 NYT interview with Jean Moreau.

Although the newsprint is yellow with age the wisdom of Ms. Moreau remains with me, helps define me, and deserves to be shared .

Ms. Moreau begins, “I’ve always liked younger men. Men my age, except for a few, smell of the indoors. They’ve succeeded and made or lost a lot of money and they have relationships to women based on that. Their ideas are ready made, and there’s a relationship with power, Or else they are hypochondriacal and thinking of their own death. And if a woman is a little intelligent they flee from her as if she had the plague. There is nothing to learn, nothing to teach them, whereas I have the feeling of being a perpetual student.

I have more fun with 20 or 25 year old boys. We talk, we argue. They need something I can help with-a choice of school, or what job to get. “

Moreau stops and lights a cigarette, takes a long drag, and goes on, “Except for geniuses, geniuses or young men”.

By the way, I took her wisdom to heart: my life partner of 25 years is both younger than me, by six years, and a genius!

Him and Me

Him and Me

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