Blue

A friend told me to go out and look at the moon tonight, because for about 45 minutes it shared an unusual alignment with Jupiter and Venus, I believe it was. This was good advice and took me out of the melancholy I've wallowed in all day.

This weekend I spent time with someone I've known for quite a while, someone who will always be a link to my younger days. To some of the most significant moments of my life thus far. This is a person I care about deeply, and who represents, in a way, other courses my life might have taken.

I don't mean to imply that I wish I were elsewhere -- my life is rich and wonderful -- but at times I'm reminded of how vast and infinite our possibilities are. As I described it to a friend, I feel as though I stopped by a world I once lived in, and it's jumbled my mind and my heart.

I'll always hold a torch for days gone by, but I truly do love my life right now, and the choices that have led me to this point are among the best I've made.

I just went into the kitchen, where Neil is preparing a tagine of lamb and root vegetables and something with mint, and told him how I'm feeling. And he said, "This is a melancholy time of year." And this is part of what is so right in my life -- my sweet little family.

Whenever I hear the song "Kooks" by David Bowie, I feel as though it's Neil and me singing to Louie:


We bought a lot of things to keep you warm and dry
And a funny old crib on which the paint wont dry
I bought you a pair of shoes
A trumpet you can blow
And a book of rules
On what to say to people when they pick on you
cause if you stay with us youre gonna be pretty kookie too

Soon you'll grow, so take a chance
With a couple of kooks
Hung up on romancing

Writing this has been cathartic.

In good hands . . .

Speaking with a dear friend yesterday (as opposed to one of my many deer friends), I inquired whether her son, who is 7, is aware of the elections. She said that he is; in fact, when Obama was declared the winner, she woke him to tell him the news and they high-fived -- that's how he rolls. She then said to him, "You know, it's because you wore your pin to school that he won!" at which point this generally savvy fellow hesitated, then asked, "It is?!"

For the first time in a long, long time, I think many of us echo this sentiment ... wait -- we actually can help shape the world around us? The older and more confident I become in my ideology, the more I realize that this is true. And even better? We're raising subsequent generations to intrinsically hold this belief -- to assume that they can make a difference.

This is not about bipartisanship. I don't think President-elect Obama will only ultimately better the lives of Democrats. I truly, deeply believe that he will better the lives of most Americans and many non-Americans, and I expect that in time he'll have made substantial strides in blurring the categories that define us by dividing us.

Brightness follows every squall . . .

*exhale*

A new era begins.

I am deeply encouraged and dare-I-say happy about this! I truly believe that Barack Obama has the desire, determination and ability to steer our country toward well-deserved better times. He has a long, difficult path ahead of him, but I've no doubt that he's the right person to embark upon it.

Thank you, God, and thank you, people.

I've clearly been steeling myself for disappointment more than have my more confident friends ... we had a few people over for a viewing party last night, and have three as-yet-untouched bottles of Champagne in the fridge.

Really, what choice have we but optimism?

p.s. I have now heard from some of my friends who did not vote for Obama, and they have all expressed that they, too, are proud of this major milestone in American history -- how could you not be? -- and plan to throw their support behind the President-elect and celebrate when he takes office in January. That warms my heart and gives me even more hope. No more divisiveness.

Election Eve

Like most of you, I'm too anxious about tomorrow's outcome to think straight (which doesn't explain the crooked thinking the rest of the time). I've made calls for MoveOn, I've donated small amounts of money, I've discussed issues with those who wished to discuss them and listened to alternate points of view. I have to resign myself to the fact that, if tomorrow does not go the way I and so many people I know want it to, it's NOT because I didn't do enough.

Ugh. This is a stressful one.

In lieu of belaboring points that have been belabored and then belabored some more since this campaign began, I am going to switch gears and promote a friend's beautiful work, proceeds from which go to another cause I strongly support.

Gary is a longtime friend, from those hazy, just-out-of-college days. He is also an excellent jeweler (and musician) and a former resident of New Orleans; in fact, he pretty much introduced me to the city, which I'd known little about, and when I first visited almost a decade ago, he armed me with a list of places to go and things to do. He and his lovely wife, Elyse, are animal-lovers and have over the years given homes to a menagerie of pets they've rescued from New Orleans (pre- and post-Katrina) and elsewhere. I can't drive down Tchoupitoulas Street without thinking of dear, departed Funky Tchoupitoulas, who, along with Zigaboo, were the first of their dogs whom I'd met.

And so, as we're gearing up for the holiday season, I want to turn your attention to a project Gary's recently embarked (woof) upon: with the Louisiana Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, he has created these gorgeous Fleur de Lis pendants, half the proceeds of which will benefit the LA/SPCA.

This year I've decided that my holiday gift-giving will contain an element of altruism ... money's tight for so many of us this year, and while I've long lamented how materialistic the holidays have become, I've also developed a steady habit of procrastinating my gift-buying, getting frazzled and caught up in the melee, and spending far too much money on gifts that don't mean as much as something like this would.

Okay -- now back to MSNBC and stress ...

Isn't this your year?

Let's try this again.

My mother, who has a lovely speaking voice, had a fairly successful voiceover career in the 70s. This is one of the commercials I remember best and, thanks to the magic of YouTube, I can now enjoy it some three decades later. It's a commercial for Cougar cars; the voice at the end is hers!

Arc-en-ciel

I saw a rainbow yesterday, down 24th Street. Not the one pictured above; that was from a few years ago and was further uptown, if memory serves. Yesterday's was the first one I'd seen in a while.

When we were in Ireland last year, I kept expecting to see one -- the weather was conducive. So I guess this was my consolation prize for not being on tour with Neil this time around.

Say what you will, I LIKE rainbows, puppies, and long walks on the beach.

But I DON'T like that cloying "Pina Colada" song.

When I was in fifth grade, all the gals had those metallic puffy clouds and things of that nature hanging from the ceilings of their bedrooms. There were a couple of places in White Plains that sold these items -- "It's New" and "What's What" -- on Mamaroneck Avenue, I think. They sold all those mid-80s novelty gifts, like upside-down soda-can sculptures and enormous pairs of dice. Useful things. Learning toys. My sister had the coveted beanbag chair in her bedroom. Though life has taken many important twists and turns since and those were not the best years of our lives, I have some very warm memories from that house.

Whenever Jules wasn't feeling well, I'd "entertain" her by acting out "Gilligan's Island" -- a spastic, one-kid show in which I played all the parts:

Maryann: "More coconut-papaya pie, professor?"
Thurston: "Lovey, darling!"
Mrs. Howell: "Oh Thurrrrston...."

and so on.

Jules returned the favor by teaching me how to dance which, at the time, involved a lot of finger-snapping. My bedroom had the best mirror in the house, one that took up the entire wall behind my bed (get your minds out of the gutter -- we were children). This meant that many a night, I'd be lying in bed when the door would fly open, the overhead light would go on, and there she'd be, assessing her going-out outfit.

I learned a lot from my sis -- besides how to dance-and-snap. I still learn a lot from her. And she's still a much better dancer.

Erin go bragh

Neil is off to Ireland for the week, to play the Guinness Jazz Festival. Actually, at the moment he's en route to JFK from which he will fly to Boston and then, after a three hour layover, he heads to Shannon. Anything to save a buck, according to the person-who-plans-his-travel.

The festival takes place in County Cork, which is actually Murphy's Stout territory. Apparently the rivalry between Guinness and Murphy's is akin to Yankees/Red Sox -- to the degree that people (mostly older gentlemen who spend a lot of time in pubs wearing caps) actually leave the county during this festival.

I had my very first pint of Guinness a little over a year ago, moments after we arrived in Dublin. And I grew accustomed to the perfect pours and the blackness of the Guinness in Ireland; have yet to find a pub in NY that elevates it to the art form that the Irish do. I'm sure it's out there, but Irish pubs in this city are a far, far cry (charm- and clientele-wise) from the ones there.

The day we arrived in Dublin was another fine example of saving a buck on travel. We had breakfast in Norway, lunch in England, and dinner in Ireland ... 'twas an adventure.

More soon.