Tag Archives: attitude

Marilyn Maye, Week Forty-One in the No Longer New Abnormal

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Marilyn Maye is a legend.   Perhaps you haven’t heard of her?  She is a 92-year-old cabaret singer who gives her audiences stylized singing and beautiful arrangements of standards.  I had been meaning to see her for years and it finally happened this past week. A dear friend and I came to see her at 54 Below, the storied cabaret underneath the Studio 54 Theater.  Marilyn’s first album came out in 1965.  She appeared on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson more than any other singer, 76 times.  I could go on, but you can easily look her up.  

She is a pro.  Her warmth and generosity are palpable.  She loves her audiences, and we love her back.  It was inspiring to see her perform.  Not only is she a consummate pro, but she makes it seem easy to share her love of the music while standing for her entire set.  The couple with whom we were sharing our table have seen her show over thirty times.  This is not unusual with her audiences.  Prior to the show we watched a community of fans greet each other as if they were reunited for another family event. 

What inspired me most when watching a master at work, was that Marilyn Maye was doing what she loves on her own terms.  Few of us have her longevity, let alone the stamina to constantly work on our craft and then dazzle others.  She has what it takes, and she shares it freely.  Going to her show has given me the vivacity to keep going.  I may or may not realize my future dreams, but Marilyn Maye inspired me to do all I can to continually pursue them.  She has a gift and she keeps on giving. 

Self-Care Tips:  

  • Learn from those older than you.  So many have wisdom that they are happy to share.  It might just inspire you.  
  • Bring alacrity to your craft.  When you add a positive energy to what you’re doing it’s uplifting for you and others. 
  • Don’t forget to sing.  It’s a mod changer.  

Broken Phone, Week Twenty-Five in the No Longer New Abnormal

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I was surprised today when I dropped my iPhone and the case cracked that it didn’t create a tailspin in which I cracked a bit, too.  Instead, I was thankful that I gave myself a day with a flexible schedule allowing me to take Lucy and me to the Apple store to have my phone repaired.  I even sat patiently waiting for my turn as Lucy demanded treats since it wasn’t her idea to leave our neighborhood.  Luckily I unknowingly stocked enough treats for the day.  

I can get a bit unhinged when things don’t go my way.  When I plan for an easy day it usually does not include hours in pursuit of a phone repair.  Somehow I wasn’t miffed.  I did what I needed to do. Though they were unable to fix my phone today, they will have the part next week.  And, Larry, who works at Apple, can take my phone in, leaving me phoneless for a day next weekend.  But it’s not a day with a phone session, so I think I’ll be okay.  

I am grateful for whatever was in play that allowed for a calm day despite the change in plans.  I espouse going with the flow, but I am not always the poster girl for that sentiment.  Somehow today was different.  Maybe it had to do that I wasn’t under a tight schedule.  Often self-enforces I try to get a lot done in any given day.  Maybe today will help me to take it easy more.  I have to say it certainly is more pleasant than adding pressure to accomplish more and more.  In having less to do, I was able to take care of what was most important.  Lucy got a long walk in, and I got to make sure my phone will be fixed.  

All in all a good day, cracked phone included.  

Self-Care Tips:  

  • Try to lighten up your schedule to make room for the unexpected
  • Make a note when you have a different reaction to an unwanted situation.  If you are more upset, check in with yourself to see if it’s added to existing stressors.  And if it’s less than maddening, appreciate the moment and enjoy the emotional freedom when it presents itself.  
  • Rather than judging yourself when you judge another, see if you can detach from the thought allowing that it’s a thought not an indictment of your character.  When we judge ourselves for judging others we only add to our judgements.  When we release the thought, we lessen what we deem unbecoming. Thus we are kinder to ourselves leading the way to have more compassion for others.  

Take Care, Week Twelve in the No Longer New Abnormal

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This past week I heard of the death of two people from my past.  I heard from three people presently who are ill, and we are all hearing about too many in our world who are in pain, who are suffering, or who have experienced significant losses.  Life is precious.  

I had a very full week.  I laughed, I cried, I stayed in to rest and reflect, I went out to celebrate.  I enjoyed wonderful music, good art, delicious food, and good friends, all while missing others who I didn’t get to see, and the few I’ll never see again. There is no right way to live in the presence of sorrow, whether personal or global.  We all must find our own way.  Yet, we can bring care and respect while navigating our challenges.  

I choose to live fully.  I tend to rest only after I have nothing left.  Others do better to dig into less energetic pursuits.  Let’s remember that we are all doing our best.  When I can, I try to take into account that there is no ill intent on the part of others.  They, too, are weighed down by life’s difficulties.  When possible, I try to have grace for others.  Though when I don’t then I try to have some grace for myself.  My hope is that we will do our best to bring care to each moment and to all we encounter.  When life is tough, when the world is hard, care can be a revolutionary act.  

Self-Care Tips:

  • Give yourself grace when you’re not your best.  It’s not a pass to behave poorly, but a way of proving kindness to yourself as you learn and grow. 
  • If something doesn’t turn out the way you want, see if you can find a takeaway.  Did you learn something?  Was there an unexpected gift in it?  If so, take that in.  It may not make up for what happened, but you can still gain something from something that didn’t go as planned.  
  • Put on some music and sing along with your favorite music.  Get the lyrics online to make it easier.  It’s a stress buster to do a sing-along.  

Split, The Twenty-Third Week in the Second Year of the New Abnormal

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It was a mere coincidence that we happen to be in Split, Croatia the same day the New York Times travel section featured 36 hours in Split.  It’s about the same amount of time we’ll be in Split, which is a beautiful port city on the coast of the Adriatic Sea.    

I would hear what a stunning country Croatia was. Anyone I knew who traveled there would expound in its beauty and charm. But having so many places we wanted to travel it never made it to the top of our list.  Then I had read that Intrepid Travel, a small group tour company, had been named the number one tour guide by a few outlets like Afar, Travel Awards, and more.  It was then I looked at their itineraries, and the Croatian trip of the Dalmatian Coast fit the bill for time, cost, and interest. 

So here we are with a view of the Adriatic Sea, enjoying the ruins of the last Roman Emperor’s castle from the 4th century, Diocletian.  Yeah, I had never heard of him either. That’s what’s so great about travel, we learn so much while enjoying another culture.  

 What did surprise us is how delicious the food is.  We think of Italy when we think of pizza, and yet, in Split pizza is everywhere.  Almost like New York City, except it’s a walled town with no high buildings. So not like New York at all.  And the fresh seafood is exquisite.  

It does feel as if we’ve been transported to another time.  Before reaching the city center there is a centuries old farmer’s market where farmers come in the morning to sell their wares, from handmade cheeses to deep red cherries. They tend their farms in the afternoons, only to return the following morning.   From there we enter the city gates.  I can walk inside the gothic city walls for hours, getting lost through the labyrinth of narrow alleyways.  When I find my way outside the city walls, the fresh sea air is invigorating.    

And, when I tire of continuing my walk the length of the marina, I can sit watching the many tourists with a lovely cup of cappuccino.  Split has proven to be a wonderful start to a memorable Balkan vacation.   

Self-Care Tips:

  • Look up a Croatian recipe.  It will be something new that will only enhance your culinary repertoire.
  • People watch.  It used to be a wonderful past time before smart phones.  But it’s a lost art worth revisiting.  
  •   Get a short history lesson by going to Tic Tok or YouTube.  Pick a subject or location and learn a new fact or two from the comfort of your home.   

Fails, The Twelfth Week of the Second Year in the new Abnormal

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I just heard that The Museum of Failure in Brooklyn opened last week (https://museumoffailure.com).  It’s primarily a collection of product fails through the last 5 decades or so.  I’m happy to be celebrating failure.  Their slogan is “Innovation Needs Failure!”  I’m not so sure I can say I’ve been innovative, unless one considers resourcefulness as an innovation, but I can say with absolute certainty that I, too, have a history of failures.

Though certainly not my first or last, but within vivid memory, is my failed first driving test. I remain an anxious driver. Lucky for me and other vehicles on the road, I live in Manhattan, have not owned a car since my late teens, and rarely drive.  At the time, I was 17, did not want to take the bus to high school anymore, and was horrified that I failed.  I didn’t want to drive so much as reap the benefits of being a driver, but I could not face my friends and classmates admitting to this personal and social failure.  

It’s taken me long time to own my failures. When I was younger, I was horrified to share any failures. Either I was afraid I’d get in trouble, or I was afraid I’d be judged poorly.  Though I experienced both, it was my own self-judgement that was harsher than anything I endured by others.  Luckily, the long line of mistakes I’ve made in this life have allowed me the opportunity to soften my judgement, and simply see mistakes as part of the human experience. 

Hopefully over the years I’ve learned from my mistakes.  Sadly, some mistakes hurt others by over sharing, or needing to fulfill some personal need rather than understanding that it would harm some else.  I lost friends given my poor judgement.  But I’ve also had friends who had a forgiving heart and understood I was lost or misguided, forgiving me, and allowing me to do better.  It is those friends, therapists, and family members who fostered change and growth.  I will always be grateful to them.  And I am now grateful to those who walked away because they didn’t want to be hurt again.  They taught me to do better and be better and to treat myself with care rather than look to others to validate me, especially when vulnerable. 

I look forward to making the trip to the Museum of Failure.  There’s something comforting in knowing it’s out there.  

Self-Care Tips:

  • When you’ve failed at something, write in a journal how it feels, and, when possible, what you learned that will help you in the future.  Try as best you can to be gentle with yourself, appreciating that the failure is part of the journey.  
  • When speaking on the phone purposely smile.  There is research to suggest that smiling lightens one’s speaking tone allowing for a more positive interaction.  
  • Throughout the day repeat the phrase, aloud or internally, “I am Enough.”  Experiencing ourselves as enough releases the pressure to be more, better, or different.  

Unexpected Kindness, The Eleventh Week in the Second Year of the New Abnormal

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I left my passport at the hotel two and half miles from Reykjavik.  I was leaving for JFK the next day.  We had had a magnificent trip, and my passport was in the safe where I left it along with U.S. dollars I wasn’t going to spend in Iceland.  Our driver, an adventure tour guide in his own right, was going to drop off some guests and pick up passengers to bring back to the capitol city the next morning.  He would be happy to bring back my passport and drive us to the airport.  The magnificent experience continued.  

I next called the hotel. They got back to me to let me know they had secured my passport and money and it was in an envelope at the front desk waiting for our driver.  This was all done with ease.  The Icelandic vibe was “no problem.”  It seemed inherent to them to be kind and considerate.  They did not communicate any extra effort, nor did they indicate I was putting them out in any way.  I was beyond relieved.  

Surprisingly, I also didn’t berate myself for my forgetfulness.  Not that long ago I would have been so hard on myself for not being uber aware of everything.  This time, though, my mistake led to a greater appreciation of the kindness of others.  To be the fortunate recipient of thoughtfulness was another gift of the trip.  Not only did we enjoy natural wonders, but we also took pleasure in naturally wonderful people.  It was good fortune, indeed. 

Self-Care Tips:

  • See if there is an easy way to give to another.  Offer your seat on public transportation, open the door for a stranger, pay for someone else’s coffee, or create your own thoughtful act.  Be part of an enduring act of kindness.  
  • Let someone know how much you appreciate their kindness.  Whether you mention something having witness a kind act, are in touch with someone from the past who was good to you, or you give a warm thank you in the moment, your appreciation perpetuates kindness at large.  
  • Identify aspects of nature you most enjoy.  If you’re able to visit, great.  If not, perhaps you can find items or scents that elicit your enjoyment. It can be sea water, flowers, cut grass, or mountain air.  Whatever your pleasure, breath in the satisfying aroma.  

It’s Hot! Week Thirty in the New Abnormal

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Heat waves are oppressive.  I’m walking slowly, drinking more water, and commiserating with everyone else who is melting in this humid weather.  I have always preferred hot temperatures to cold, but sometimes it’s just too hot.  As a child I’d ride my Schwinn to the Haddontowne Swim Club and cool down swimming and playing in the chlorinated water.  Today, I can ride my bike, but I’m going to opt for the indoor version in my air-conditioned apartment, going nowhere, and enjoying the solitude.   

In heat like we’ve seen I think less is better.  Less activity, lighter meals, simple plans.  I have a lot of writing ahead of me this weekend.  It makes it easier knowing that I would probably be uncomfortable outside.  So, I’ll hunker down, laptop securely placed on my lap, and a cushion to lean upon.  Simple, though perhaps not easy.  Nonetheless, happy for the space and time to get it done in the cool air.  At least for now.  

Self-Care Tips:

  • Hydrate.  Cool yourself off with water or a cold beverage.  I suggest freezing a bottle of water (give it enough space on top) and then let it melt as you sip it through the day.  The iced bottle can also cool you off on the back of your neck, your wrists or anywhere that needs it.  
  • Play some Motown Summer music.  Suggestions are:  All Night Long, Lionel Richie; I Need Your Lovin’ Teena Marie; Inner City Blues, Marvin Gaye; Heatwave,  Martha Reeves and the Vandellas
  • Learn a new word.  It’s a simple task that can be enjoying.  Of course, it’s educational.  My new word today is: Emolument.  I had never heard it before.  It means a gift, whether cash, an item or a privilege, one receives because of one’s work title.  

I am Cautious

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I am cautious. I ride a low bike so that when I stop my feet reach the ground. This is reminiscent of my old banana seat bicycle in the 70’s with the purple handle bar streamers. It was comfortable because of its lack of height and its smooth, plastic seat. I was a proud rider on the streets of Haddontown, Kresson Heights, Brookfield and Woodcrest, riding my modern bike in my bright red keds.

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This past week I braved the New York Streets to take my bike out for the third time this summer. I was halfway to my destination, Central Park, when I realized the traffic was too thick. Cars and trucks were double parked. I am not that adventurous. I am cautious. So, at Third Avenue I turned around and headed for the promenade on the East River. When I get to the park I ride to the crosswalk because I can avoid riding up on the curb. I like a flat ride, no bumps. That’s not easy in New York, so I do what I can.

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It wasn’t very crowded. It was Tuesday, and some had just started back to work, while others were just getting back from their Labor Day getaways. I rode as if I were a child, gleeful to have the promenade virtually to myself. I ring my high-pitched bell when the few people walking are four wide and there’s no place for me to go. They part and I move on, happy I didn’t have to stop. I am in heaven. There’s something so sweet about moving in space, especially when I know at any given moment my feet can touch the ground.

 

The Voice

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MPW-3067.jpegThe movie Funny Girl opened in 1968. I was eight years old and in Third Grade, struggling with Mrs. Mishaw, the dower educator who wore Irish wool suits and had no patience for fools. I was a dreamy fool finding solace in movies. Barbra Streisand as Fanny Brice became my hero. Fanny Brice for celebrating her kooky self, and Barbra for singing so magnificently. She was the balm for an otherwise abrasive year.

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This past week I got to revisit the magnificence of Ms. Streisand singing “Don’t Rain on My Parade.” She brought down the Brooklyn house with her clear, luminous voice. I was enthralled then, as I am now. And, if that weren’t enough, she sang at least three Sondheim songs, my favorite composer.

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I was late to the game. I first heard about Sondheim from Paul Puccio a co-worker at Strawbridge & Clothier when I was in college. I went to see Angela Lansbury in Sweeny Todd in 1980, and have subsequently seen most productions of the shows and revivals in New York or London. So, having Barbra Streisand’s splendid voice, and Steven Sondheim’s magical lyrics and composition, was simply perfect.

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We all have moments like this, when we experience art and emotion, and feel transported. There is hope for the future, and deep satisfaction in the moment. The concert, thanks to Barbra Streisand, gave me, as well as thousands of others, that transformative moment. Life isn’t always easy. In fact, we have witnessed so much heartache and struggle in the media recently, and, for some, in our private lives. So bearing witness to art, music, theater, dance, literature, or other artistic mediums, gives us an opportunity to replenish our faith in ourselves and the world around us. It can move us deeply, and replenish our soul.

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I am still a dreamy fool late into my 50s. And, Barbra Streisand’s voice remains a balm through thick and thin.

(all images are taken from the internet)

Back to the Basics

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I learned to iron from my mom, but not before I scorched a shirt or two. Cotton and Polyester were the fabrics of my childhood. And, although I liked my Danskin striped shirts and ribbed pleated pants, cotton was the classier choice for anything other than playing in our Haddontown neighborhood. When inside I had chores, one of which was the ironing.

 

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I would set up the creaky ironing board in the kitchen close to the counter with the electrical outlet. And then I’d carefully plug in the Sunbeam, aqua iron until it was hot enough to smooth away the folds. I would iron my father’s shirts for work, my sister’s and my blouses, leaving the trickier ironing of dresses to my mother.

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In my twenties I volunteered at a new age retreat. One of my jobs was to iron the leader’s white oxford shirts. Perhaps I was chosen because Virgos are known for our attention to detail. They never told me. What they did say was, “Janet, it’s imperative that you bring integrity to your work. There must be no lines in his shirt. Anything that takes his attention away from leading the group compromises the quality of the retreat.” I took them seriously, and performed my ironing with fear and seriousness. At the end of the week I was commended for my work, but at great cost to my happiness.

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Today I ironed my dresses, two green, two blue, one orange and one black. It’s been a while since I’ve ironed. I tend put on no-iron clothes or slightly creased shirts. I take out a steamer from time to time, but sometimes it just doesn’t do the job of old fashion ironing.

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There is something meditative about ironing. I can tell immediately if I’m doing it right. And I know this because the wrinkles disappear. I find this ever so satisfying. It’s clear what task is at hand, and it’s clear when it’s complete. Few jobs are that straightforward in life. Unlike my fear of failure at the retreat, I’m happy to do my ironing with music on in a state of ease. My dresses are done and I’m grateful to my mom for introducing me to the finer points of ironing.

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