Lost in the Crowd

At 6'4, with perfect posture, wavy hair and piercing eyes, I wish I could get lost in the crowd. Having all heads turn to me when I enter a room is flattering, but disconcerting. Do these people really know me?
That is why I moved to a small town in NJ, Gutenberg. For whatever reason, genetically blessed folks chose that place to live. Walk down Main Street and all you see are striking people. We nod to each other, aware that we are what others dream of being.
Sometimes a normal looking person moves in. You can spot them immediately, standing on a corner, gazing at the flow of beauty, gasping.
I knew I made the right decision moving here when I responded to a Meet Up Group flyer for people who can't get enough guacamole dip. When I showed up at the restaurant, several practically dropped to their knees, asking what planet I was from. The rest of the evening was uncomfortable to say the least. They aggressively vied for my attention, even pinching me in spots I won't mention.
There are times when I wish for just one small pimple.
Then I come to my senses.

Valerie Harper

No one is a bigger fan of Harper than me, and no one was more upset at the news she is dying of cancer. I can understand her opening up to People Magazine. But this continuing tour of talk shows I find disturbing. In recent years she hasn't been in the public eye much, except for some stage work. This blitz of appearances in which she discusses her situation, I mean, how much is overkill?
I realize people deal with terrible news in different ways, but is it absolutely necessary to put everything out there all the time? How is this supposed to help others?
What happened to a quiet, dignified response to adversity? If anything, these appearances add to the frustration of the fan, who is unable to do anything. Send money to battle cancer? How many billions have been donated and cancer seems just as deadly.
I remember Michael Landon made one final visit to the Tonight Show to say goodbye. Patrick Swayzee battled his disease privately. If a celebrity has diabetes and wants to spread the word that it is a treatable disease, that is helpful. But a terminal disease with no hope--shouldn't one conserve their energy and  prepare for the inevitable? It just seems like shows are using her tragedy for a ratings boost and she's cooperating.

Walking With Mom

When my mother got older and infirm, I made it a point to walk the neighborhood with her to get her out of the house. We moved slowly, speaking of a wide range of topics as she held my arm. There was gossip, doctor discussions, memories of things and people I'd forgotten. I miss that communication, as my mom passed away ten years ago.
When I mentioned this to my friend Howard, he thought a moment, rubbing his chin. I believe I have a proposition, Joe, he said.
The more he talked, the more it made sense.
The upshot is every Sunday morning I pick him up and we drive to a park and walk around the lake, he wearing a colorful house dress, grey wig, soft slippers, and knee length coat, holding tightly onto my arm, listening to my problems and reminding me of memories of my youth, which he improvises. All for only $30 a week.
Around and around we go. Howard is such a good listener.

Bruised, But Not Broken

My beliefs have kept me stable. They may have been bruised by others, but, in my mind, never broken. For example, I believe there are tacos in heaven, along with swing dancing, feathers, open mikes, and smells so fragrant you almost pass out.
In this world, I believe the amount of gas a person releases is directly proportional to the amount of hugs he gets. I believe we are each allotted a certain amount of words and women, as a group, were given 52% more than men. I believe my hair will grow back if I stop scratching my head. I believe treating your pet is an indicator for how you will treat your salads. I believe men who can cook get more respect than those who don't from attractive women who also can't cook.
I believe making a woman jealous is part of being a man, as is leaving the seat up. I believe Lara Croft Tomb Raider is a great advertisement for push up bras. I believe time is absolute, except if you're stuck in an elevator with engineers.
I will not force my beliefs on others, although the one with the engineers bares more scrutiny.

Doorknobs

The funny little man went from house to house polishing doorknobs. He held the spray polish in one hand and the rag in the other. A small back pack contained more rags. He spoke to no one, kept his head down while walking, dressed too warmly for the weather. A fur cap had seen better days.
He was shorter than many of the kids going to school. In the beginning, they would poke fun at him. He never responded or lost his temper. He had work to do.
When people offered him money, he declined. Compliments were met with a slight nod. Since he never spoke, there was no evidence he was from their country. Of course, no evidence existed that he wasn't.
One surmised the man might have gotten more attention had he swept property or painted. Respect wasn't important to him. That's what we told each other. The completion of his rounds, eliminating germs, polishing to a sheen; those were his priorities. But because people were constantly going in and out, opening and closing doors, he must have grown frustrated at not being able to keep up.
How many of us can keep up anymore?
It is dangerous to diagnose depression, but by his slower movements and increasingly sloppy work, it became obvious the little man was unhappy.
The sun came up as suns do, and on that day Mrs. Hall, shaking out her dust mop on the stoop, happened to comment to the man that he missed a spot on her doorknob. One could imagine her doing this. She was that type.
This time our friend decided, rather than concentrate and polish harder, he would rip the mop out of her hands and beat her until his arms got tired. The screams woke up everyone.
They didn't have a straight jacket small enough, so they bound him with clothesline and put him in the back of one of those trucks that take you away from normal people. Mrs. Hall recovered and life went on. One couldn't help notice that, for awhile, people impulsively wiped doorknobs with their sleeves as they passed through. The sheen gradually was lost, as was the pungent polish aroma.

Childhood Escapades

It was Lou's idea to kidnap the ice cream truck driver and steal his stash. We were only ten, but he was a scrawny college kid trying to make summer money to pay for tuition. There were a dozen of us, including five girls, who were stronger than some guys. We knew he parked in a deserted spot to eat lunch and smoke pot.
One day we surrounded his truck and Jack pretended to faint. He was good at that stuff. As soon as Charlie the driver jumped out of the truck to see what was wrong, we piled on him and within minutes had him tied up and gagged with masking tape. We were in the Scouts and could tie good knots. While he rolled around, we went to work on his inventory. I had three fudge pops, one after the other. We warned him if he reported this we'd make him a joke in town. Then we loosened the knots just enough for him to get free, while we ran off to throw up in various spots.
I saw Charlie years later on the subway wearing a Foot Locker shirt. He must have recognized me because he ran off at the next stop.
Lou is now serving six to ten for insider trading fraud.

Karen Carpenter

Thirty years ago Karen Carpenter died of heart failure probably caused by anorexia. She was only 32. The Carpenters had peaked several years earlier. Never cool, they still managed to chart hit after hit. So much has been said to describe her voice. It was pure, but she could do so much without seeming to try to emote. There are actors who can do the same, barely twitching a facial muscle or blinking, yet conveying everything.
For me, their first single, a slowed version of the Beetles "Ticket to Ride" is the best thing they did. She was only nineteen at the time, with those girlish bangs. Some may not known that she played the drums before singing.
In a 1976 interview with an LA DJ she covered a number of topics. Most telling is her quickly refuting the idea that she and Richard were loners. She explained neither had found the right person and guys were intimidated by her.  I found and bought her only solo CD, released many years after her death. It's pretty good and one wonders why it was held back.
If you go on You Tube you'll understand why she is missed, especially in light of all the overly dramatic singing that suffocates the air waves.