Archive | January 2022

Eating out — thank goodness.

Once upon a time long, long ago, I worked full-time and invited friends to dinners too. We’d have a children’s table, our large dining-room table extended with a folding table, plus extra places on the upright piano seat with place-mats on the flat surface over the keys. Those days are looonnnngggg gone.

A friend and I had lunch together yesterday. She’s interesting, I love her. She’s a devoted vegan. I didn’t have to worry — we ate out. Friday I’m having dinner with a young vegetarian. He’s my kind-of grandson. He’s been busy and hasn’t had much time for us to get together so I’m delighted. Again, I don’t have to worry — we’re eating out.

During this pandemic, some people won’t eat in restaurants. I respect that. Sometimes one special friend and I have lunch on a park bench nearby. She has definite food needs and always brings the lunch. I want to reciprocate, but aren’t brave enough. What can I fix for her??

**MY OLD ARTHRITIC BONES DON’T MAKE APPOINTMENTS**

Meanwhile years have passed and everything seems to take more energy. Energy? Where did that go? It eludes me at will and some days I can’t seem to hustle any muscle at all. My old arthritic bones act up whenever THEY choose. They aren’t thoughtful. They never make appointments ahead of time. I can’t picture many dinners happening at my place anymore, which is just as well. What would planning a homemade dinner look like? I’d rather treat when we eat out.

**WHAT PEOPLE EAT TODAY IS MORE COMPLICATED**

It seems what everyone eats today is more complicated. What my older friends consume is sometimes affected by health issues like high-cholesterol, diabetes, ulcers, medications requiring them to avoid certain foods, or allergies — and goodness knows what.

Do we become delicate flowers with age? Yup! What I used to call a cast-iron stomach doesn’t exist any more! I, myself, have developed allergies! (I’ve been told these develop as we get older, but I also believe some of it is due to chemicals added to our food to extend shelf life.)

My San Francisco kids do a lot of entertaining. Their friends are younger and don’t seem to be affected as much by medical conditions as my older friends. I guess I’ll just leave the dinner parties to them. If you visit me — let’s eat out.

More weird deaths…

Jan23

Following my last post of quirky death possibilities, here are a few I’ve known about myself.

**ISADORA DUNCAN, MOTHER OF MODERN DANCE**

American dancer Isadora Duncan, (1927-1977) known as the mother of modern dance, was strangled by her own long scarf which got tangled in the rear hubcaps of her open car while driving in France. (She was right to avoid ballet. Feet are destroyed by dancing on your toes.) Duncan had, herself suffered a terrible loss. Both her children and their nanny drowned when their car rolled into the Seine.

I paid my respects at her grave while visiting the Pere Lachaise cemetery in Paris.

I lived for awhile in the Hollywood Hills of L.A and passed the famous sign every night driving home from work. I couldn’t help but think of actress Peg Entwistle, who leapt to her death from that high sign. Peg (1908-1932) was only 24. In her suicide note, she started by saying ‘I am afraid, I am a coward, I am sorry for everything… Peg was distressed because roles didn’t come her way. I believe I once read an offer of a role reached her father a few days after her death.

I once had a neighbour who was a compulsive hoarder. We worried about fire from all the papers and magazines. We also worried about the woman having to manoeuvre around and over all the stacked stuff. Her bed was piled high and couldn’t be slept in. (She apparently slept with her sister nearby.) We were required to clear out her apartment.

**THE COLLYER BROTHERS, COMPULSIVE HOARDERS**

Our manager suggested I read ‘My Brother’s Keeper’ by Marcia Davenport. I did — and will never forget it. It is a true story about Langley and Homer Collyer, who lived in a 5th Avenue Manhattan Mansion they inherited from their mother. They never married. They never worked. Money was not a problem. They also never threw anything out. At their deaths in 1947, they’d accumulated more than 140 tons of dilapidated stuff.

The brothers feared intruders and set up traps. Langley, himself, was caught in one and crushed to death by trash falling from above. He was on his way to bring brother Homer some food. Homer, who was paralyzed and confined to an old, rotting chair, died about 12 days later from starvation.

**ABOUT 140 TONS OF HOARDED STUFF WAS REMOVED AFTER THEIR DEATHS**

Interesting book. Read it if you can. It IS fascinating.

Life: a risky business

Jan14

Have you ever thought about how risky life is and what a miracle it is so many of us manage to make it into adulthood? I’m not paranoid, but dangers do lurk at every turn.

What with nature’s furies — hurricanes, volcanic eruptions, fires, floods, lightening and storms; the billions of microscopic bacilli and viruses around, on and in us; man made hazards like guns, explosives and weapons of war, it’s amazing I’m still here!

I can’t help but think of accidents with cars, trains and planes. I step onto my balcony and imagine it falling down to the cement patio three floors down — with me on it. gosh! Well, it could happen.

Normal people just live their lives, but I think of these things. Your chances of dying in an earthquake are one in 11 million. Not much. But what’s if I’m the designated driver?

They say one in 20 million die after being bitten by a dog. I constantly meet dogs on my daily walks. Does a snarl mean I should say goodbye right now? Then there are also evil people who may attack me even if a dog doesn’t. Oh, my….

Apparently the risk of being injured in an elevator is one in six million. My building has one. I use it every day. Some neighbours always take the stairs. Do they know something I don’t? And, why aren’t they telling me?

I’m not a scared person, but what I’m really terrified of is being hit directly by a celestial body. I have a one in a 150 trillion chance of this happening, but what’s if I’m the person standing right where the darn thing comes down if it does, when it does? Yikes!

There are a lot of other reasons why life is a risky business, but I won’t go there. You’d have to be a little nutty to worry about everything.

Dybbuks of Russia…

Jan7

If you think I was an easy kid, you are sadly mistaken. The words most often out of my big mouth were: ‘Why?’ ‘How come?’ That my mom continued to love me and survived my childhood is an absolute miracle. If I’d been my kid, I’d have thrown me off the 3rd floor balcony to shut me up.

I was the youngest of five and my poor mom was stuck with me after the rest of the kids attended school. She knew she could keep me quiet and hold me spellbound with her stories of Dybbuks in her native Russia. According to her, she not only knew about them, but had seen them in action herself! Imagine.

Dybbuks, mom said, could do anything. They were evil spirits or dislocated souls of the dead — truly malicious and troublesome creatures who would enter the body of another person or animal and create havoc during a temporary transmutation. The tales she could dream up to keep her pesky Muriel quiet were unlimited and each was different.

I loved those stories about Russia, where well-behaved horses suddenly overturned carts or fled in terror when inhabited by the mischievous Dybbuks, or ordinarily placid cows suddenly kicked whoever tried to milk them, and loving dogs bit their masters or behaved strangely. How could I resist?

**ONCE PLACID COWS KICKED THE ONE DOING THE MILKING**

I’d sit like a good girl and listen avidly while she ironed. (People did a lot of ironing then.) When I’d get a little uncomfortable or carried away with a story, I’d declare — somewhat hopefully, that they couldn’t be real.

‘Oh, but they are,’ my mother always assured me.

‘Well, HOW COME we don’t have Dybbuks here?’

‘They’re only in Russia.’

WHY?’

‘Because they’re afraid of the water and they’d have to swim to get here.’

Well, that explained it, right? How could anyone or anything swim across the ocean.

You have to admit it was a creative response. Could you have come up with that?

My mom had an answer for everything.

View from Over the Hill

Thoughts from an opinionated old lady