Happy Easter

I clearly remember Holy Saturday when I was nine however not for religious reasons. It is a recollection entwined with admiration, love and childhood generosity. Unless of course, one considers shopping a sort of religion. I don’t think I do although I do hold great affection for retail therapy. It is here however that I find writing it’s own therapy in expressing the experiences I had as a child that are the fabric of what make up my heart. That I was invited into Gloria Novello’s house to see Joann’s Easter dress created a tapestry of images. Joann was 16 and always sweet to me regardless of the age difference. She had beautiful black hair and eyes that twinkled a smile as if at any moment something magical might happen. If she was outside even for ten minutes to practice her cheerleading it was a happy moment for me and I would run up the block to watch while sitting on the curb or perfecting my cartwheel and polish up my rhymes from Mother Goose to learning Wood-Ridge football cheers.

I also remember that rarely did we get invited to go in a neighborhood friend’s house, you just played outside. Early on we didn’t even ring the door bell. Kids just ‘called for’ a friend by calling outside the house for them to go out to play. To be called in was a special event itself. The Novello’s house always smelled like a party to me, like zeppoles at the carnival and Holy Saturday was no different. The smell seemed to permeate the air around the open windows. I took a hungry deep breath as I stepped inside the small softly lit living room having been called in to see Joann’s Easter dress. She and her mother were arguing over how high the hem should be. I was stunned having never seen anything like it. It was made from a black delicate chiffon fabric, with a v-neck and long sheer bell sleeves. Mrs. Novello was pinning it short all the while saying, “Your fathers going to kill me if I make it any shorter.” Joann began to argue, her Mother saying that the hem was high enough but at the same time I noticed she pinned it to where Joann wanted anyhow. She looked just spectacular to me and even at that age I knew how special the dress was. On Easter girls wore a soft pastel color to church with lace gloves and even a hat. Joann was wearing this very vogue beautiful dress. I loved it. That dress began my unconscious lifelong search for the Holy Grail of Dresses each time an occasion came up in my world. After all, if you can wear spectacular anything else is insignificant.

Fast forward to February when I was invited to “Howlin’ for Hubert” at the Apollo Theatre. This benefit for the blues master Hubert Sumlin who influenced so many was sold out in minutes. I had gotten a ticket thru Jimmy V who was performing and even though I had a closet full of clothes to wear I still looked for something special. I happened to be in Lord & Taylor when I found myself face to face with the 2012 version of Joann’s Easter dress in black lace. I hadn’t consciously thought of it in years however I saw the dress on the hanger and floated across the store to it, my feet never touching the ground. In the dressing room, it fit perfect and I thought I even saw that twinkle of Joann’s in my own eye in that mirror. I was bewitched by my own childhood memory that had materialized.

The spirit of my very special childhood friend rises each Easter in my heart as I think of her and my family and friends that are on the other side. With gratitude in my heart I can only be happy to have been touched by so much love throughout my life.

And yes, I'm also thankful to wake up this morning with just the right dress in my closet.

Happy Easter

Bertha, Eddie and My Brother

Today my iPod was cued to ‘random’ when Los Lobos’ version of Bertha caught my ears by surprise. It was from that moment and song that this recollection showed up.

My brother and his friend Eddie loved the Grateful Dead and in the early 80’s when the Dead where playing a run of shows at Brenden Byrne Arena in the Meadowlands they had tickets. Each night the preshow parking lot was filled with Dead Heads, gypsies, fans and over night entrepreneurs from East Rutherford cashing in on the influx of The Following, making grill cheese and flipping veggie burgers. Both Eddie and my brother had been celebrating for hours, not that these two needed a parking lot full of helium balloons, pot brownies, grill cheese makers or the make shift vendor village to celebrate. They grew up in the suburbs at a time when kids roamed after and created fun. It was real life social networking and they never lacked in finding or providing it themselves. It flowed naturally within the geography of the Meadowlands infiltrating the surrounding towns and had far reaching effects on character building. And these two were characters. On a recent camping trip, they had spent all day canoeing and exploring the Delaware and all night with another famous and historic liquid, beer, which they consumed until they were toasted by the campfire. My brother was the only camper who did not sleep in a tent preferring a hammock under the stars. Around 3 am when the sky opened up and the monsoon arrived, he twisted out of the hammock, stumbled to the canoe, found his life jacket, put it on and went back to sleep in the hammock. Eddie had watched this peering out from his tent and would explain to Michael the next morning when he wondered aloud why he woke with his life jacket on. On the night of the Dead show however, once inside the arena, Eddie and my brother found their seats, way up in the balcony. So now these two, who were quite high are way up in the balcony. I felt the need to point out the obvious there. At some point after the music started they separated and soon after the Dead began to jam on Bertha. It was during the jam that Eddie heard his name being called over the microphone. Alone and believing he was being paged; he began a long spiral descent through dancing and twirling dead head women, concert folk and security from the balcony toward the lower levels of the arena. He was stopped by security but managed to keep going toward the stage insisting that his name was being called and his friend was missing.

He reached the seats on the floor of the arena just when the song was ending. It was at that moment he stopped hearing his name being called and he found my brother who had earlier meandered down into the crowd. He also found out that the lyric Jerry was singing was actually, “Bertha don’t you come around here, any more”. My brother had to explain to Eddie Moore that he wasn’t being paged he was just hearing the song as…...Bertha don’t you come around here, Eddie Moore…….

I’m sure those two shared more stories that I’ll never know. They shared friendship, the love of camping and canoeing; countless beers and ultimately they shared pancreatic cancer. When my brother was too sick to be left alone, his wife had to work and my Dad on occasion couldn’t come by, Eddie would keep him company not knowing that he too had the same disease that would be diagnosed three months after my brothers death. That’s a long sentence but it’s not my fault. The universe made it that way, not me. Within four months of each other they each left beautiful daughters who were just shy of their teenage years in this parallel universe filed with stories, forget-me–nots, Love and tears. Happy Birthday Michael. This picture is from the first time I ever saw you, when Mommy brought you home.

I’m sending Love and Light to you and Eddie and I’m going to play the Dead’s version of Bertha and dance like angels are with me ;) and all that because I may very well be a character too………

Feelin' Groovy

The beginning started at the last minute and the table was the issue from the beginning. If you can truly follow that you must be a friend of mine, just like Corinne, Karen and Evelyn. I waited to make reservations for Evelyn’s Birthday, unaware that at City Winery the method is to go online and chose a table. A couple days before the date, feeling guilty with procrastination and sitting alone at my dinning room table with my laptop, I became overwhelmed with the challenge as I looked at the diagram on the website. Certain aspects of the map were reminiscent of Harry Potters Marauders Map in that if the eye diagram was clicked the room floated on screen appearing at different angles to give a better visual of the stage. Unable to summon the courage to take on the responsibility of this decision, I called Corinne. Her sun sign is Leo the Lion so courage abides in her naturally. We stayed on the phone, each with the City Winery floor plan open and after exhausting the choices left to us, finely decided on a table in the mezzanine. Two days later we arrived to hear Harper Simon and Rhett Miller, drink lots of wine and argue over what appetizers and dinners to share. We were walked to the table by the host to find it was a bar table with backless bar stools. Immediately, in hushed tones and glances around the room they wanted to see if we could be moved. It was early enough and next thing I knew I was off to ask the concierge who I had to wait in line to speak with. From where I stood I could see the waiter come by and in a flash the bar stools were exchanged for stools with backs. I went back to the table, finding that the discussion about the table had been tabled and everyone settling cozily in with the surroundings. Besides wanting to hear Harper Simon, I was excited because I had worked with pedal steel virtuoso Jon Graboff last month and was hoping he would be joining Harper on stage as he accompanied him on tour in Europe late Spring. It turned out Harper was solo and I was a bit disappointed because I love the pedal steel. Meanwhile, I had focused on Graboff and it never occurred to me there might be other guests. Anyway, the empty table next to us was getting the chairs changed as well by some spirited wait staff with trendy coiffed hair. I noticed the reserved card being placed and I was in mid sip of my chardonnay when I read the look on Karen’s face. Walking past our table to the adjacent one tended only minutes before was Edie Brickell and Paul Simon. While it was happy hour before, the vibe became instantly elevated to feelin’ groovy. Paul Simon is just a national treasure and to have him and Edie share airspace while listening to his son was such an added dimension to the smile factor. Needless to say, we had a great time, loved the winery, the music, the cool vibe that Paul Simon unknowingly brought to our table. Can you imagine being a person that just the site of makes other people happy? Oh and I almost forgot, the unexpected fortunate turn of the tables with our winning game of musical chairs.