And so it begins…

I love decorating for the holidays. Love holiday music. Love sending and receiving holiday cards. 

As a kid I hated this season. I was the only Jewish kid in my neighborhood. None of my friends understood why I wasn’t excited about Santa. Why I could go out and play all of Winter Break. 

As I grew older I found the things that most Jewish kids find – empty movie theaters and take-out Chinese Food on Christmas.

Then I moved to LA, where getting Chinese food on Christmas is at least a month ahead pre-planned event and movies may not only  be completely sold out but will definitely be packed. 

Last year I talked my sister into making Hanukkah Holiday Wreaths. It was a blast. Mine is unbelievably tacky, filled with Dreidels and Hanukkah Gilt. I adore it. 

But this year as I was getting ready to hang it, I started to have fear about it being on my door. 

It has been a strange year for many of us. I have never felt the amount of anti-semitism that I have this year. And that is saying something considering I grew up in a house that once had Swastikas painted on it. That my mother was told we should move because “they” knew we were Jewish. That I was called names in my high school.  Even with all of that, I have never really felt fear about being Jewish in America until this year. 

I wondered if I was just being overly sensitive. 

So I called a few close friends and asked their opinion, “Should I hang my Hannukah Wreath outside my door?” 

All of them said, “Maybe not this year”. 

ALL OF THEM said it. One of them said, “Why make yourself a target?” 

I was surprised by their responses. None of them are Jewish. I wanted opinions of folks who might not be as sensitive as me.  I felt great sorrow that they and I felt fear about hanging holiday decorations. And then I felt anger. Anger that I would be fearful of being Jewish in America! Anger that I would fear becoming a target for some ignorant person that may live by me. 

So I am hanging the Wreath outside my house. I am going to  have faith in my fellow man and neighbors. I am going to feel the joy I get when I decorate. 

 I hope you all do as well. Oh, and I am sending out holiday cards, if you want one let me know.  See, it was worth reading till the end. Happy Decorating and Holidays to all. 

For What It’s Worth…

I keep setting a goal to blog more often. And then I don’t post. It is not like I don’t having anything to say. I do. Every day about many things. I even write them down. But I stop myself from posting because I want my it to be perfect. 

Perfection is the reason I am not posting. Nope, that doesn’t sound truthful. When I have had friends who are musicians ask me for my opinion on their unreleased music, my response is almost always to not make it perfect. That when you make art “perfect” you lose its soul. And I believe that. I believe that you have to have the mistakes to find the magic. For example, I love that I know that the guitar riff on a certain 70’s rock song actually says FU to the record label exec who kept telling the band that song was missing something. That mistake that made it through makes the song for me and that song stand the test of decades.

What stops me from writing a blog every day if it is not ideas or perfection? Is it fear? Fear of being judged and found lacking. Maybe. I know that I never want to appear stupid or vapid. Yet, safety is not the answer to success. And like most I want to be successful. But then how do you measure success? For me it is about moving forward. About setting a goal and following through. When I was younger, I was very good at doing what I said I was going to do. 

As I got older, I found reason, excuses, cop outs for not hitting self imposed goals. I am noticing that many of these ideas are complete and utter BS.

I don’t blog because someone told me it must be a certain word count. Yet, my favorite blog I have ever written is not within the parameters.

I don’t blog because it might not be interesting to read. Yet, things that I thought were interesting NO ONE IS READING.

I don’t blog because I don’t have the time. I literally have been working from home now for almost 3 full years, which means that every day I have an extra two hours that I could be writing. 

What stops me from blogging every day? ME! I stop myself. I need to start myself more.

When I was working at the agency, I would tell people that negativity breeds negativity. Conversely, positivity should breed positivity. The more you do, the more you do. So today I write about why I don’t blog more, tomorrow I just blog what else is going on. Lord knows that there is plenty of material. 

As F. Scott Fitzgerald would say – For what it’s worth: it’s never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There’s no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it.

I plan on making the best of it, Happy Monday Folks…

Is it August yet?

Been thinking a lot about the month of August. It’s my birthday month. A time for celebration. A time to be thankful for the year behind and get excited about the year ahead. A time to speak to old and new friends.

But for me, this year,  August is also a time for sorrow.  August is also the month of my mother and my grandmother’s birthdays. With both of them gone, it is a sad reminder for me. 

As a child I remember hating that my birthday was in August. I never got to celebrate it in school because it was still summer vacation.  Most of my friends were not in town and my parties were either small or just family. I used to always receive school clothes as a birthday gift. To top it off my mother’s birthday was the same month and came before mine followed by my grandmother’s birthday. I always felt like I was last in line and no one was really interested by that time.

As a teenager, I hated having my birthday in August because the birthstone was awful. My sisters had sapphires and opals. My brothers had diamonds and sapphires.  I had a peridot. Never heard of it? Best description is a yellow greenish stone. Not worth much and not much to look at either. Here is a link for those of you still interested – check it out 

As an adult I started to change my mind a bit. I found that I loved the wind up to my birthday. I loved that we celebrated my mom and my uncle (they were born on the same day 8 years apart). That my grandmother’s birthday was next and always a cause of joy. And that I got to be third! Three has always been a magical number for me. It made me feel connected to all of them and it made me feel like I belonged. We were all in August together. I no longer felt last, I felt celebrated the longest.

I learned to plan fun parties in the summer. And as people got older, they were around more and wanted to get out do something. I began to have more celebrations on my birthday. And because I was at the end of summer, everyone wanted a last event to attend. 

But I still hated that birthstone. I was still jealous of my siblings. I still found it ugly and could not figure out why it was picked when there were so many other good ones to choose from. So one day I looked up the meaning of it – Peridots symbolize dignity, fame, and prosperity. Peridots have been used in jewelry through the ages to achieve peace and success, and to attract love and good fortune. Hawaiians believe the traces of peridot found in volcanic ash are the tears of the volcano goddess, Pele

After reading that it didn’t seem quite so bad. I mean, peace, success, love and a goddess? I think I might be liking this stone a bit more. Still not my favorite color but the symbolism rocks, even if I am the only one to know it. 

And yet this year I am more sad then I am excited. This is the first year where I no longer have my mother or my grandmother to celebrate in August with me. I no longer have them to share in the joy and gift giving. I have been crying a fair bit thinking about it. I can hear both of them telling me to knock it off. This is not the way of the Lioness. This is not the way of the women in my family. This is the time to celebrate life. To celebrate all that they taught me. To celebrate all of the things they accomplished. To celebrate all that I have done and will continue to do in their memory. 

As a kid I remember thinking, gosh my grandmother has lived through a lot; the depression, the development of automobiles and a world war. I remember thinking my mom had truly lived through a lot of change too; women’s lib, the hippies and vietnam. I wondered if I would ever have those kinds of life altering experiences. I suppose I already have had some of them. I have lived the boom of the computer age, the era of the portable phone and a pandemic. I see so many possibilities of things that were unimaginable still coming during my lifetime; AI, space travel and god forbid another world war. 

So as it comes closer to August and our birthdays, I am going to do my best to celebrate them and me in a way that honors all of us. I am going to surround myself with friends, loved ones and amazing experiences. I am going to remind myself that even my birthstone says I am supposed to attract peace, success  and love. And I am going to share it with everyone around me, near and far. I am going to turn my tears into those of joy and not sorrow.  Let’s go August! I am ready for you. 

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It’s Raining, It’s Pouring…

It’s been raining a lot in Los Angeles.

I know, I can hear you saying, “It’s always sunny in Southern California. You were just in a drought. Stop complaining.”

But by a lot, I mean we have had more rainy days than sunny since January. We are no longer in a drought. There is flooding. It is hard to remain positive when you feel like the world is just cold, wet and grey.

But yesterday I went for a walk. A walk in the rain.

I started it by having a destination in mind. I needed eggs and the grocery store is not far. I also decided to drop off some clothes at the dry cleaner. Doing something productive always makes me feel better.

It wasn’t raining that hard when I left my house. It was a soft mist. I didn’t even bring an umbrella. I put on a sweatshirt with a hoodie and took off for the half mile walk.

It felt good to get outside. It felt good to have the wind on my cheeks and fresh air in my lungs. I was feeling good about me. This is what I was missing. I have been wallowing a bit. Thinking about things I cannot change. Comparing myself to other folks. Worrying about next steps.

But this walk, this walk just felt amazing. I was in the moment. I made it to the dry cleaners. Went into the grocery store. Found eggs! Life is great!

Then I walked outside. That find mist had turned into a deluge. The little puddles on the way there were now little lakes. The rain that had been mostly above and at my back was now coming straight at my face! I had a moment where I thought this is crazy. What was I thinking? I own seven umbrellas, I couldn’t bring at least one with me?

And then I started to laugh. I’m not going to melt. I have hot water at home. I have a hoodie and two strong legs. I turned on some good music and started walking with a smile on my face. By the time I made it to my door I was soaked. My leggings, my shoes and my sweatshirt. Not to mention the backpack I was carrying.

But you know what? I was sad to have the walk end. I don’t mean I felt sad. I felt invigorated. I felt excited. I felt thankful. Thankful that I was able to walk. To afford groceries. To get out of my house. I was sad that it came to an end.

I have been feeling a bit down lately. Overthinking last year and the year ahead. How is it already the middle of March? I feel like everything is moving slowly and yet time is passing quickly.

I realized on that walk that I am spending too much time thinking instead of doing. I have all sorts of reasons why that is but I think the biggest is that I don’t know exactly what to do. I don’t have a real plan.

When I got home from that walk though, I felt so energized. I made a healthy dinner. I crocheted a bit. And a plan began to form. Maybe that was the lesson in the walk, you have to keep moving even if it is raining. For now that is all the plan I have, but it feels like a pretty good start.

January….

It’s a new year and I want to be productive and positive but it’s January. And January is hard for me. December is easier, partially because  I love putting up the holiday decorations. I have not one but two trees. And I am Jewish. I know it sounds weird that a Jew would have a CHRISTmas tree in her house. But let us be clear Christmas is not focused on Christmas trees. 

History says the tradition of decorating a tree for the holiday was started in Germany in the 16th century. At that time, in many countries, it was believed that evergreens would keep away witches, ghosts, evil spirits, and illness. Doesn’t really sound like the spirit of Christmas does it? It is commonly held that Martin Luther was the first to add lit candles to the tree because he was awed by the brilliance of the stars twinkling among the evergreens outside his home. America did not start having Christmas trees until the late 1800s and most Americans at that time thought it was a strange tradition.  I have decided I am mixing both of these traditions for my Chanukkah Bush, the power of the evergreen and the beauty of the stars. I decorate my entire house in white, silver and blue. It is one of my favorite traditions. I put on holiday music, pour a glass of wine and unpack the decorations. For about 6 weeks my house feels cheery and bright. And I feel warm and cozy. Then comes January. 

I have almost always disliked the month of January. When I grew up in Minnesota, January and February were normally the coldest months. It was the beginning of my dislike of the month.There was no vacation or holiday to look forward to until the spring. All the adults around me were stressed. They were tired from the “holiday”. They had “overspent” and felt depleted. 

When I went to work at the agency, January was our first time back in the office in over two weeks. Most of the entertainment industry shuts down for the holidays. And to be honest, LA shuts down for almost all of December. By the time we are back in January everyone is annoyed with us for taking that amount of time off. So January was a fire drill month. It was a scramble of getting things done that were now in emergency mode. And people were tired and grouchy. Tired from travel, family, and fun. Many had overspent, over eaten and all were already over it. 

Then there is that moment when you decide to step on the scale and realize that “one little” bite that won’t hurt anything, has you feeling the pain of the numbers glaring back at you. And now you need to throw away everything that is in your fridge and freezer because you need to get back to the gym and healthy eating. Did I spend my monthly food budget on gifts last month? 

But my least favorite part about January is putting away the decorations. There is no music played. There is no alcohol poured. Well, at least not until it’s all done. There is no feeling of cozy and warm. There is no excitement in putting it away. There is a huge fight with the lights. I could have started pouring the alcohol then. There is a battle of putting the tree back in the bag or out to the curb. There is the vacuuming of all the places you have missed the past month. There is the struggle of remembering how it all fit together to be packed in that box. There is the collection of all the fun little decorations and wrapping them up and hoping you don’t break one this year. All of it feels like I am wrapping up my happiness for another year. 

And yet, this year I also started thinking about the things I love about the beginning of any new year.  When I put the decorations away, my house looks bigger. I have more room than I remember having. It feels more organized and manageable. I feel refreshed this year. I am excited about the year ahead. I am actually excited about eating cleaner than I have this past month. I went to the gym during December and liked how I felt doing it. I am excited to be going this month even if I am not excited about all the folks that will be showing up for this month only. I am excited about the possibilities of this year. It is a fresh new beginning and anything is possible. Maybe by next year, I may even like January. I want to start that tradition…

Goodbye 2022…

It’s the last week of 2022. What are you going to do about it?

I keep thinking about all the plans I had for this year that were derailed either by circumstance or by me. I think it is normal to be reflecting about the year behind and the year ahead right now. So here goes what I learned in 2022 and what I hope for 2023.

This year had a lot of loss. I lost my job, my mother and a gallbladder. But I gained the knowledge of true friendship. I gained the knowledge that I am stronger than I realized. I gained the realization, finally, that I am not defined by what I do but by who I am and how I treat people in my life. 

This year I spent more time with family, friends and community. Something I have truly felt was missing in my life for a while. Something I was not sure I even had. I think sometimes when we think something is missing it is because it doesn’t show up the way we thought it would. This year I realized I had it in my life but just not in the way I had always been taught to expect it. It was a great revelation for me. I plan on spending next year building on what I have learned. 

This year I spent more time with myself. More time writing, reading and reflecting. I realized that while it is good to do all of these things, I want to be more productive with what I discover.  I want to spend more time writing next year than I did this last. I realized that not only is it my form of therapy but it also brings me joy. That joy is a gift I didn’t see coming. It has always been an outlet for me, but this year it became more of a celebration even when it was a release. 

This year I spent more time opening up about relationships and people that I had felt shame about for some reason or another.  I realized that almost all of those shameful thoughts were only in  my head. By sharing what had been happening, I found a freedom and acceptance that lifted my spirit. I plan on being a bit more open with that same circle in the future.

This year I realized that I did not have to share everything with everyone. This is not new. I knew this before  but I didn’t realize that I was sharing with the wrong folks and not sharing with the right ones. I am learning more and more what my boundaries are and when to put up the walls and when to tear them down.

This year I faced more grief than I have in many years and I learned that you have to feel the feels to get to the other side. This was something I told everyone but not something I was great about doing for myself. This was the year I had no choice and that made all the difference. I realized that sometimes when you cry in the morning it allows you to giggle through the rest of the day. Next year I hope to be laughing more but will let the tears fall, if not as frequently, a bit more freely.

This year even with all the loss I realized how truly blessed I am with family, friends and aquaintances who continue to show up and change me for the better. I plan on spending more time with all of these people.

So it’s the last week of the year, what am I going to do with it? I am going to start living my last week of 2022 like it is already 2023. I am going to move my body, my mind and my soul towards the life I not only want but the one I know I deserve. What about you?

Connections…

When I was a child I remember my mom crying because she was afraid of being alone. I remember thinking, why are you afraid? I loved my own company. I loved having time to myself. I didn’t feel the need to be surrounded by people.

As I entered middle school and high school I didn’t want to belong to a clique. I was friends with the jocks. My best friend was an olympic gymnast. I was friends with the brains. One of my other good friends was our valedictorian. I was friends with the burnouts even though I never did drugs or drank. They seemed so free in all that they said. I found them fascinating. I was friends with the kid who ate alone at the lunch table because I wanted to know why he was alone. I was friends with the class clown. I went out of my way to laugh and they were always hilarious. I was a teacher’s pet in one class and a pain in the teacher’s ass in another. I loved being the round peg in the square whole. 

After college, I followed my own drummer. I took jobs that I found interesting instead of career building. I worked as a temp for years because it opened opportunities for me. I did retail for a while. I worked in marketing and real estate. I worked at a nightclub and a promoters office. I never knew I wanted to be an agent until I moved to Los Angeles. By that time I had been in the workforce for over a decade.  I never really had a dream to become the doctor, policeman or stockbroker. I thought about becoming a lawyer but other than having everyone tell me that is what I should do, I never pursued it. 

I knew I never wanted to be married until I was at least in my thirties. Something that was unheard of where I grew up. Many of my friends and acquaintances were already in their second if not third marriages by then. I just knew that I needed to find me before I started trying to find him. I had seen both of my parents in bad marriages and maybe this played into it. 

I still like having friends from all walks of life. I remember a birthday party I threw one year for myself. I invited twenty-five of my closest friends to a dinner and then realized very few of them knew each other. Or even had similar backgrounds or careers. I had such a mix of life at one table. From the girl who was a radio DJ to the guy who was an accountant. The lead singer of a band sat next to my friend who was a librarian. And yet, they all fit. They all made sense to me. I admired and liked each of them. I loved connecting with folks that might never have met had it not been for me. 

That has also been a theme in my life. If someone doesn’t know someone or how to get something done, I am one of the first they call. Not because I know how to do it but because I know someone who does. Or I may know someone who knows someone who does. I have been told by many that I am a connector of people. 

And yet, something has happened in recent years. I don’t feel connected to anyone or anything. I feel adrift in a boat surrounded by other boats that are overflowing. They wave as they go by. They send messages of how much they miss me. I hear the talking and laughter drifting over the waves but I don’t know how to get to them. I have lost myself in many ways. I don’t know if it is the pandemic or if it is me that is isolating. I know that I need to find my tribe. My connections. I am just not sure of how to find the onramp to that path. 

I understand my mom more now. I understand her fear of being alone. It wasn’t about being alone in the room but loneliness that she feared. She feared the lack of connection to others. I understand that now and wish I could tell her. Wish I could tell the woman who desperately wanted connection, that she found it. In ways that others may never understand. It took her three marriages, three kids and multiple jobs. But my mom found her tribe by showing cats. It was weird. It was totally quirky. It was completely her. 

While I have no interest in cats or ever even understood my mothers obsession, I love that she found her people. I love that she found a husband that understood her and people that she loved being around even if I could not understand any of them. 

As we wind down the year and start thinking about next year and our hopes for what is to come, that is my biggest desire. I want to find my tribe, my people or at least get back to that little girl who felt that she was enough of a tribe on her own.

The Dance

One step forward, three steps back. That is the dance of life. The trick is to find the music that suits your steps. This year has definitely been one of the hardest dances of my life. 

I was doing ok at the beginning of the year. I had a job that paid well and was not overly taxing. I worked for a man that liked me; even if he drove me crazy. And I felt respected by my peers. But I was bored. I felt depressed. I knew this job wouldn’t last. In all honesty, I didn’t want it to. I knew it wasn’t the job for me. But in June, when I received the call that it was actually ending, I was shocked. Not sad, shocked. I was not scared, I felt hopeful. I was on my way to Minneapolis. I was going to see the unveiling of my grandmother’s gravestone. I should have been depressed. I was not. I was happy to be going “home”. I was excited for what the future held. 

At the end of June, I headed to Virginia. I was going to stay at my dad’s. Walk his dog. Spend time with my brother and his kids. I was excited to do all of it. I was going to plan for my trip in July. I was traveling to Nashville and I was going to meet with some folks and decide my future. I knew what I wanted to do. I had planned my trip.

There is an old Yiddish saying, “We plan, God laughs”. I believe that is exactly what happened. 

I didn’t feel well for most of my stay in Washington DC. I was tired. I was irritated. I wasn’t sure why. I was ready to head to Nashville. Then on my last day, the day before my big plan, I ended up in the hospital. I had shortness of breath and major pain in my stomach. Since I don’t like to do anything small, I did it big. I went to urgent care and then was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. Turns out my stomach pain, which I had blamed on lack of sleep, was due to an inflamed gallbladder. I was told I needed to have it removed, immediately. The plan was to have a small surgery, where they went in and cleaned out everything, put in two shunts and then have my gallbladder removed. I would have to come back to the hospital two weeks later to have the shunts removed. But like I said, make your plans, god will actually decide the outcome. My two to three days in the hospital turned into 8 days. And my 10 day trip to Virginia turned into 6 weeks. And unfortunately Nashville never happened. It was a bitter pill to swallow. I felt like my life was starting to unravel.

In August I finally returned to Los Angeles, minus one gall bladder, one job and no prospects. I was beginning to lose hope. I was still hopeful about my future but I was unsure where my next steps should be. I wasn’t physically ready for Nashville. I thought I would give myself the two weeks left in August to readjust to being by myself again. I forgot that in September I had to go to Seattle for a Bar Mitzvah. I had forgotten the drama of family and family trips. I had issues with a brother and a cousin. I had issues with my sister and another cousin. Then again, is that not how all family events go? One little drama after another. In the end the trip was good but mentally exhausting. I will go to Nashville in October, I decided.

At the beginning of October I was having dinner with a friend I had not seen in a while. I was happy to be spending time with him. I was beginning to feel hopeful again about life and my plan. And then the phone rang, it was my sister telling me something was wrong with my mom. I sent a text message to a step father I don’t talk to and he called me back. My mother had died. I still haven’t completely processed that call or those words. My mother and I had a complicated relationship. I loved her. I was mad at her. I admired her. I was disappointed in her. I wanted to have her in my life. I would get angry every time we talked. She made me a strong, capable person, why couldn’t she be the same? It had been years since we lived in the same state. Years since I had truly been close to her. There had been years where we hadn’t even spoken. But this year I had seen her in June. I had seen the spark of the woman who raised me. I had spoken to her on the phone in August. It is the most communication I had with her in years. And yet…I feel cheated. I feel angry at myself that I didn’t call more. Reach out more. Try more. I am angry that she didn’t. 

And I am sad. I can’t imagine a world without her in it. Without my grandmother. Without my Aunty Barbara. It is the world I am living in. Those three women made me who I am today. They each walked to their own drummer. They each had their own way of doing things. They each taught me that it was beyond ok to have my own. I think death is the reminder that we would all like to have at least one more conversation. 

This summer that is what I learned. I am going to have that conversation with anyone and everyone. I had those conversations with my dad, my stepmom and some of my best friends. I have many more I need to have with other folks. I am not going to back down from them or from myself. I haven’t made a plan yet, but I am hearing God laughing. HE’s not laughing at me but with me. It’s time. I hear it in the laughter that is the music for the dance that we call life. I think it just might be time to dance again.

***The photo at the top is from a Duran Duran concert at the Hollywood bowl in September. It was pouring, I was dancing…

Times Like These..

… It’s times like these you learn to live again
It’s times like these you give and give again
It’s times like these you learn to love again
It’s times like these time and time again

Foo Fighters – Times Like These

Music brings all of us together. It does not matter the genre you listen to or who your favorite artist may be. It is the one language we can all speak – together. It is one of the few things that ties us together regardless of gender, race, or sexual preference. 

This week watching the performances from the Taylor Hawkins Tribute, I was reminded of this fact again. I laughed, cried, danced and sang along. It was heartbreaking and joyful at the same time. Then again many of the best moments of my life have those same elements. 

When I worked at the agency I would go to see multiple shows weekly, sometimes nightly. Sometimes they felt like work, most times I just felt lucky I was able to get into the show. A few years into working at the agency I was lucky enough to sit next to the agent that repped the Foo Fighters. And even luckier that he would invite me to shows. I was able to see them at arenas as well as theaters. I have two favorite memories of Taylor.  The first occurred one winter break when I could not afford to go anywhere and my family was not around. I was feeling alone and depressed. I received a text from the agent. 

“Hey, you in town?” It read. 

I thought he was going to ask me to go into the office and get something for him. I was hesitant to answer. Plus, I was feeling like a total loser being alone during the holidays and having no plans. Still.

“Yes, what’s up?” I answered. 

“Steel Pony, three hours in the valley. Your name is on the list. See you there.” He replied. 

I didn’t know what the Steel Pony was, let alone where it was located. But the agent repped some of my favorite folks – Pearl Jam, Beastie Boys, and Maxwell in addition to the Foo Fighters. So even though it was raining and I was flying solo, I headed to the Steel Pony. When I arrived the line was out of the parking lot and down and around two blocks. It was not a big club. I walked past the line and into the parking lot. I saw the agent. He was talking to the Fire Chief. He saw me. Grabbed my arm and pushed me inside while listening to the fireman tell them they were at capacity. 

The place was packed. I had been pushed through a side door directly next to the stage. I had been pushed into someone when I came through the door. It was Taylor Hawkins. He smiled. I apologized. He tipped his glass and walked on to the stage. It was then I saw Dave Grohl and realized I was at a Foo Fighters show. For three hours they played a bit of everything. I danced, laughed, and sweat the night away. I no longer felt depressed or alone. I was with my music family and we were all rejoicing. It is still one of my favorite memories. 

The second occurred a few years later. I was invited to a friends and family show at the Forum. I didn’t feel like going. I was tired. I had been traveling. I was feeling burned out. I will be honest and tell you I don’t even remember who I was seeing. But I remember thinking, someone else would be so excited about this show. Go, you never know what can happen.  I arrived at the forum. Checked in, grabbed a drink and headed to my seat. In front of me were a bunch of guys that were having the time of their lives. I was sitting with other agents and we were all on our phones not paying attention to anything but work. But I remember thinking I wish I was part of the group in front of us. It was then I recognized Taylor Hawkins in that row. I remember watching him and his friends more than the show because they were so into it. They were having the best time. Here was a guy who had toured all over the world and tonight he was just a fan like everyone else in the place. It reminded me of the power of music.  

Working in the music business can be tough. You can be surrounded by the darkest parts of humanity, but you are also surrounded by such unimaginable light. Every time I have thought of doing something else, someone sends me a song. Sometimes the song is by artists I know. Many times it is by someone I have never heard of before. The one thing they have in common is that they always remind me why I love this business. They lift my mood and my spirit like nothing else does.

If you are having a bad day, put on that album that brings back that memory. I have sat on a couch and listened to an entire album and ended up in conversations with total strangers about the music. I have woken up crying, put on an album and had a private dance party. I have sat in a parked car staring at nothing listening to a voice note that an artist has sent me. The one thing that all of these moments have in common is the music. I hope that today you take a moment and listen to your sound, whatever flavor that may be. I hope that it brings a smile to your face and makes your soul soar. We all need that now more than ever. 

***Side note: I have seen some of the negative comments about the benefit. I haven’t read much of them because the second I see that they are criticizing such an amazing moment, I want to throw something. We have become a society that can find fault in everything, including an event that brought generations and genres  together to celebrate a life that touched so many. It is heartbreaking. So I refuse. I refuse to fall into the trap about what was wrong with the show and rejoice in what was so right about it. I hope you are dancing and laughing above Taylor, because you made all of us remember what was right in this world. 

Life Lessons from Grams

April 18 was the Yahrzeit of my grandmother. For you non-Jews, April 18 is the anniversary of my grandmother’s death.. She was 93 when she passed. I miss her every day.  I know I am lucky that I had her in my life for as long as I did. But it does not stop the tears from flowing or the ache in my heart.

She was one of the most amazing women I have ever met. She did the New York Times Crossword daily, worked  out on a regular basis and had an active social life. I loved chatting with her about her life. Not only did I learn something new about her but I almost always got a good life lesson. The following is one of those amazing conversations. If you know me personally, you may have already heard this one. 

One day I decided to ask her about how she got engaged. I knew the story of how my grandparents had met in Minneapolis at a party right after my grandfather had left the airforce.  They told the same story. 

My grandfather had seen my grandmother from across the room, walked immediately up to her and said, “You look tired, you should go home.” 

Yep, you read that right. He insulted her and he married her soon after. I have always wondered how they went from that exchange to getting engaged. The story my Grandmother told me not only gave me a massive laugh but came with three life lessons that I am still trying to live by.

“Well, I was dating this fella,” my grandmother started the story.

“Not grandpa?” I asked.

“No, not grandpa. Anyway, I was dating this fella and no one liked him. So my family sent me to my Aunt and Uncle in Upstate New York where I met another fella and I got engaged.”

“Not grandpa?” I asked again. This is the first time I have heard about any other fella, let alone two or another engagement. 

“NO, NOT GRANDPA! Keep up with me Mara, you asked for this story. Anyway, I came back to Minneapolis to pack up myself and get ready to move to New York and get married. And while I was home, you know I went to that party and met your grandfather,” she responds.

“So then you broke up with the guy from New York,” I said.

“No, I went out on my first date with your grandfather,” she said. I think my jaw dropped. This was the Forties. I had always assumed folks were more conservative back in the day. 

“Were you wearing a ring?” I ask, still trying to understand.

“Yes,” she responded. As I sat dumbfounded by the fact that my grandmother was a bit of a floozy and obviously a badass even when she was young. She continued her story. 

“On our first date, your grandfather laid it out for me. He told me all about what he was going to do for a living, he showed me where he wanted to live. He told me how many children he wanted. When and where he wanted to retire,” she stated.

“Wow. Wasn’t that a bit heavy for a first date?” I ask. Although I was still having an issue wrapping my head around her dating my grandfather while promised to someone else, I was also surprised my grandfather said so much and on a FIRST date.

“Yes, it was but here is the problem with your generation,” she responded. 

And right about now she starts spouting her worldly wisdom. 

“You all don’t see potential. You think about right now. You need to be thinking about the future and where you want to be,” she said.

Now, you may think this is strange that she would say this during a story about her engagement. But this is NOT the first time she has shared this bit of wisdom. She had said this to me about dating on numerous occasions. She was not wrong. Think about the guys you “LIKED” in high school. Would you date them now? Nope, me neither. 

“Ok, so THEN you broke up with the fella from New York and started dating grandpa?” I asked.

“No, then I went out with your grandfather for a couple of weeks. And when the fella from New York came to pick me up, I told your grandfather to skedaddle,” she replied.

And for the second time during this story, she blew my mind. My grandfather was a fighter pilot, a real estate developer and the first entrepreneur I had ever met. He was also one of the most intimidating men ever created. The kind you never ever want to upset. He was the definition of an alpha male. I just didn’t see him skedaddling for anyone. Apparently, for her he skedaddled.

“Well, after the fella was here for a few days I realized I liked your grandfather more so I told him to skedaddle and I called your grandfather,” she continued.

“Ok, so then you dated for like a year? And then got engaged?” I asked.

“No. You sound like your grandfather now. That is what he said. That we would date for a year. Then get engaged. Then married. And I told him, we would be married in the next 6 months or I would find myself another fella,” she stated.

“Grams, you were not even 19 years old, why were you in such an all-fire hurry to get married?” I asked.

And here is the second piece of wisdom. Get ready for it.

“Well, I’ll tell you. By that time, I had tried working. Realized it wasn’t for me. And made alternative plans,” she replied. 

Yep, she had tried working and realized it wasn’t for her. It might be one of my favorite things I have ever heard anyone say. And really, wouldn’t we all like to make that statement?

I did ask what she had done for living that made her feel that way. She had worked for the phone company. She would have told you they were the best employers. And she had worked for Dayton Hudson, a retailer in Minneapolis. She had said they were very good as well. She just realized that it was not for her. She did not want to work for anyone else.

That’s not to say my grandmother did not work. She raised a family. Three successful kids and had a marriage that lasted almost 50 years and only ended with my grandfather’s death. All of that takes work.

After she finished telling me this story I asked her if she ever wanted to get married again after my grandfather’s death. He died a little over 20 years ago. She was emphatic in her answer as she was about most things in her life.

“No! Why would I? I was raised in a house of five women. We never needed a man, even if others thought we did. I loved your grandfather but I am just fine without another man. And I already took care of one sick man, at this age that would be what I am dealing with,” she answered. 

Can’t say that I blame her logic. I didn’t like the idea that she was alone. Then again she rarely was with all the family and friends who were around her. And she always seemed happy which is more than most folks can ask.

And per usual talking to my grandmother taught me three life lessons:

1.     Potential. Look for the possibilities, not just what is in front of you.

2.     If it’s not for you, DON’T DO IT! Find what is for you and then go for it.

3.     Stick to what makes you happy, not what others think you should do.

One last thing, as I get older I realize how absolutely blessed I was to have had my grandmother as long as I did. That I was able to ask the questions and receive answers. We spend so much time these days finding our answers through Google, Wikipedia and our phones that we forget to connect to the people around us. To the people we know and love. So I guess there is one last lesson – turn off the tech and turn to the person next to you. I guarantee you won’t be disappointed.