Whimsical kid zone

Art Linkletter (http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0512939/) was adept at putting small children at ease, which he did regularly on the concluding segment of his show, “House Party” a amusing question-and-answer session that provided the material for his best-selling book “Kids Say the Darndest Things!”

He had a gift for probing into children's minds and they spoke with unabashed honesty. I got the impression that his sincerity made children feel good about themselves.

Linkletter passed away last year. What many people don't know is that he was abandoned as a baby and adopted by a middle age couple whose children had died. I think his warmth and his history gave reason as to why children were important to him.

A few days ago my sister-in-law sent me: Why do we love children? I took out excerpts (source unknown) since it made me think of Linkletter who liked kids with spunk. 

NUDITY

I was driving with my three young children one warm summer evening when a woman in the convertible ahead of us stood up and waved. She was stark naked! As I was reeling from the shock, I heard my 5-year-old shout from the back seat, “Mom, that lady isn't wearing a seat belt!”

A little boy got lost at the YMCA and found himself in the women's locker room. When he was spotted, the room burst into shrieks, with ladies grabbing towels and running for cover. The little boy watched in amazement and then asked, “What's the matter, haven't you ever seen a little boy before?”
KETCHUP
A woman was trying hard to get the ketchup out of the jar. During her struggle the phone rang so she asked her 4-year-old daughter to answer the phone. “Mommy can't come to the phone to talk to you right now. She's hitting the bottle.”
POLICE
While taking a routine vandalism report at an elementary school, I was interrupted by a little girl about 6 years old. Looking up and down at my uniform, she asked, “Are you a cop?”

“ Yes,” I answered and continued writing the report. “My mother said if I ever needed help I should ask the police. Is that right?” “Yes, that's right,” I told her. “Well, then,” she said as she extended her foot toward me, “would you please tie my shoe?”

It was the end of the day when I parked my police van in front of the station. As I gathered my equipment, my K-9 partner, Jake, was barking, and I saw a little boy staring in at me. “Is that a dog you got back there? he asked.
“It sure is,” I replied.
Puzzled, the boy looked at me and then towards the back of the van. Finally he said, “What'd he do?”

DRESS-UP A little girl was watching her parents dress for a party. When she saw her dad donning his tuxedo, she warned, “Daddy, you shouldn't wear that suit.”
“And why not, darling?”
“You know that it always gives you a headache the next morning.”

ELDERLY
While working for an organization that delivers lunches to elderly shut-ins, I used to take my 4-year-old daughter on my afternoon rounds. She was unfailingly intrigued by the various appliances of old age, particularly the canes, walkers and wheelchairs. One day I found her staring at a pair of false teeth soaking in a glass. As I braced myself for the inevitable barrage of questions, she merely turned and whispered, “The tooth fairy will never believe this!”

Ready for my close-up

              

               

Every February Turner Classic Movie has its annual 31 DAYS OF OSCAR (http://www.tcm.com/schedule/month/). Pure heaven for movie lovers, what better way to spend the rest of winter than watching classic movies from Hollywood's heydey. 

I can't wait for this Saturday, they'll be showing a favorite, It Happened One Night. A screwball comedy of the 1930's directed by Frank Capra, written by Robert Riskin with brilliant dialogue and impeccable timing. The touch of Frank Capra can be seen everywhere; he was a master at using the familiar - eating, verbal slang, snoring, washing, dressing - to produce cinematic magic.

The intelligent dialogue sparks where Claudette Colbert and Glark Gable have a donut dunking lesson. Another wonderful vignette is where Colbert and Gable have a hitchhiking scene. When none of Gable's showy hitchhiking thumb signals is successful, he laughs at Colbert's offer to stop a car. She steps forward to prove her own technique and says, “I have a system all my own.”

One of the most pleasurable aspects of watching these films is lord and host Robert Osborne. As a film historian he gives a behind the scenes look that went into the production. 

On Valentine's day I was out for the evening but returned to catch Casablanca. He called it the best “accidental masterpiece” Hollywood ever created. Apparently there was no finished script for the film when shooting began, the story kept changing, pages were given to the actors just prior to the cameras rolling, and some scenes were improvised on the spot. The stars were miserable—none of them wanted to be in it because of the chaos and disorganization. And yet, against all odds, the ingredients added up to one of the greatest screen classics ever made. Has there ever been a more natural beauty than Ingrid Bergman’s Ilsa? And what movie has more memorable quotes? “Here’s looking at you, kid.” “Louie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.” “We’ll always have Paris.”

This Saturday I'll be watching and feel like Cinderella in my living room. I'll put on a long, bias-cut pale pink dress that flaunts a soft grey and white lily print. To it, I'll add, a thin black choker, and slip on high heels like a drama queen watching —and visiting another era. My consolation prize for not seeing them at the red carpet event– a dozen films down, six to go!

Ix Chel

In early June 2004 while in Cancun, we left the beach rental one morning and headed to the pool. Nearby was a well-dressed woman setting up her fathers' wares on a small table. She proudly said he was an artist; a former silversmith, and was currently designing jewelry, one-of-a-kind pieces. What caught my eye was a necklace in a deep purple, a color I swoon over. Opaque and set in a dramatically different design, elongated, it seemed like sharp teeth, or an Indian motif, and got me thinking of a symbol of an ancient Mayan god. I held the weighty piece in my hand for a moment before gently placing it down.

My husband saw how fascinated I was by the necklace and later bought it without my knowledge. I have since called it, my Mayan Goddess necklace.  

As a side trip we went to Isla Mujeres, (http://wikitravel.org/en/Isla_Mujeres) a small island devoted to the ancient fertility goddess, Ix Chel. Paintings of her are displayed with the glyph of a moon on her heart and a moon of deep purple behind her. She's portrayed as a woman who, when faced with adversity, took charge of her own life and turned it around.

Later, based on my curiosity and the questions and compliments I would receive, I researched to find out about the gem.

A mineralogist, Dr. Ken-Ichi Sugi, discovered sugilite, in 1944 on the Iwagi Islet in Japan (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Japan).  Because of the lithium and magnesium within the deposits, it can give the gem interesting black spots on their surface. Sugilite is also known under the trade names of "Royal Lavulite" and "Royal Azel".

A rare and breathtakingly modern discovery, sugilite beads are said to have mystical properties. They are quite expensive, but considering how rare and mysterious they are, they are a bargain for something so exclusive.

Later that summer while staying at the Hyatt Regency in San Diego, (http://www.missionbay.hyatt.com/hyatt/hotels/index.jsp) we checked out and I left my Mayan Goddess necklace behind. I called the Hotel and remembered Ix Chel's saving grace. The following day the Hotel Manager reported that the cleaning woman had found it under a chair. They mailed it back at their expense. In a gesture of appreciation for the integrity and generosity they demonstrated, I reciprocated with a box of chocolates.

Isis Unveiled

As the recent upheaval was occurring in Egypt, the first thing that ran through my mind were my own desires; every time I've wanted to visit the country, some catastrophe has taken place. First there was the Gulf War, then there was the Second Intifada and although those incidents didn't take place in Egypt, as a American I could be in danger. And most recently, the uprising. Despite having a love of the Egyptian ancient civilization, and yearning to see the ancient sites, their remarkable collection of tombs and excavations, I believe Egyptians must be concerned with the enjoyment of life—so much that they desired their existence to be continued in the afterlife, and equipped their tombs with all the trappings of life pleasures and pastimes. 

In present times, this view may have faded. I know for the Egyptian friend I have, it has.

Watching Charlie Rose every night while discussions take place between economists, politicians and scholars, I wanted to know why Egyptians are so unhappy.

I found out that Egyptians have basically no more freedom than Tunisians. Egypt is ranked 138 out of 167 countries on The Economist's Democracy index, a widely accepted measure of political freedom. That ranking puts Egypt just seven spots ahead of Tunisia. With an autocratic government, high levels of corruption, and grinding poverty, Egyptians are significantly worse off than their cousins to the west.

But like their Tunisian counterparts, Egyptian protesters have pointed to a specific incident as inspiration for the unrest. Many have cited the beating last June that resulted in a death, of Khalid Said, allegedly at the hands of police, for their rage. But it's also clear that the issues are larger.

The Muslim Brotherhood, says it plans to achieve a democratic Islamic state by peaceful means, as the only truly organized bloc in Egypt they believe they could win up to 30 percent of votes in a free election. This could mean hostility for Israel, and perilous indeed, surrounded by practitioners of hybrid warfare.

But life in Egypt is still far from normal almost a week after the popular revolt focused on Cairo's Tahrir (Liberation) Square, with tanks on the streets, banks closed, workers on strike and schools shut.

Egyptian pro-democracy leaders plan a "victory march" in Cairo tomorrow to celebrate the overthrow of Hosni Mubarak's 30-year rule last week, and perhaps remind the military of the power of the street.

In an effort to make sense of it all, I consulted with the stars.

Tomorrow is a Full Moon. Venus will square Saturn at 16º Capricorn/Libra; Mars approaching conjunction to Neptune at 26-28 Aquarius and opposing a Full Moon.  What this indicates is that these positions are likely to cause a great deal of social turmoil and havoc. People will be up and at arms about economic conditions. This will be the culmination of all of the social upheavals combined.

Full Moons always exacerbate the collective solar plexus and thus the feelings of personal (in)security. Mars, Moon, and Neptune are the rulers of the astral plane and all will be very powerfully stimulated now with issues of power and control, blame and guilt, ethics and honor. For those who are conscious of their lower gut tendencies such as fear, anger, forms of manipulation, and conflict, this is a time to stay vigilant and work from your own source of loving detachment.

For those who are not in Egypt, use the power of the mind to visualize peace for the region and pray. Meditate and observe in your own life where your own buttons will be pushed and respond not from a place of instinct, or revenge, but from a place of conscious choice.

A kiss is still a kiss

Today being Valentine's Day makes me think of all the hype that has gone into this day–the display of diamonds, retailers selling women's clothing in shades of red, restaurants having a set and exorbitant priced menu, and expensive roses –these “things” make the day contrived. The “things” that makes it special is simplicity. The joy of being a child and exchanging valentines; receiving an I love you card with no name, or expressing your emotions through a simple- be mine, unsigned. As a young adult making a hand-made valentine with lace and ribbons and composing a poem. And when your older, kissing your beloved like you mean it, as if your life depended on it–a case of do or die.

Italy is a romantic place. It's no wonder that Verona is where Shakespeare wrote Romeo & Juliet. I have a long list of favorite films but if I had to choose one, it too is Italian, one in which there are flashbacks of the most wonderful kisses on the silver screen.

Cinema Paradiso is a story where a boy develops a friendship with the fatherly projectionist, Alfredo, who takes a shine to the child and often lets him watch movies in the projection booth. In the several scenes of the movies being shown, there is frequent booing from the audience, during the "censored" sections. The films suddenly jump, missing a critical kiss or embrace. The local priest has ordered that these sections be cut out. It also has a lovely soundtrack. Enjoy the day with your cherished one and enjoy the view:
vi1665925401

Snow White lives on...

One of my favorite parts of being a fiction teacher comes in the beginning of the first class, when every student goes around and talks about what drew him or her into writing. I’m always struck by how early the desire to be a writer starts. I love children of all ages but for the past several years as a Clark County READS volunteer, I have requested to work with children in the third grade, age 8, when children begin to be interested in things and people outside of their home. They become bold and are willing to try something new. They can also become dramatic and lose themselves playing a character.

Almost everyone remembers feeling different from other kids, feeling as though they saw the world in a different way from everyone else, and I’m no exception.

I was a bright, aware, zany, sometimes quiet or talkative, very sensitive, dreamy child, always imagining myself somewhere else. It didn’t help that the kids in school called me Snow White. Although I lived in the suburbs, I often imagined that a King and Queen would burst into my classroom and tell me that they were taking me back to the Kingdom, where it would be announced that I was their secret long-lost but never forgotten child. And although I was close to my parents, more so my father, I would have to choose whom to live with; royals or commoners (I might have been read too many fairy tales.) Although I’m an Angelino, I often imagined myself in New York, in the middle of Eloise at the Plaza. In this rendition, my brothers nor my parents would be around. My Godmother would be the Nanny, my cat would be Weenie, and I had the freedom to roam in search of adventure.

My books were my treasures. I read constantly. Often I walked to the library, reading a book as I went, tripping over curbs. At one point I decided to read the entire fiction section at the Public Library, but I didn’t get too far with that. All I succeeded in doing was accumulating a very long list.

There was not a lot happening in the suburban Los Angeles of my childhood, or so it appeared to me then. Later, of course, I realized that there were whole veins of drama to mine. But the great excitement in my life came when my Uncle and Aunt invited me to visit them in San Francisco. They were Yoga devotees and I was taken to an Ashram. It was summer and it was a magical experience. There was adventure everywhere. Once back at their home, there were astrologers in their living room and Yogis chanting while incense burned and bodies contorted in various positions. Tarot cards placed before me predicting my fortune. Although I am an honest person, I’ve always had a fondness for scoundrels–they tell such great stories.

No two ways about it

In my classes I was recently asked two questions, “When did you know you were a writer?” And, “Is that all you do, write?” They are identity questions, self-worth questions, personal freedom and fulfillment questions, a nascent creative soul’s penetrating questions. And loaded into the questions seem to be an underlining ground-zero that tethers the asker to a primary sense of identity — something presumably more real, more acceptable, more common, much more stable. To be a loan officer, you apply for the job and show up every day for work; to be a writer, you have to know – via, perhaps, some mystical experience – that you’re a writer.

You are a writer when you are writing. I know it sounds simplistic, yet it is true. Do not roll your eyes, reader, as if I’ve heard that one before. As we evolve in our work lives, piecing together various kinds of work to earn money, step-by-tiny-step nudging out the non-writing stuff and making the writing central (or at least that which is writing-related), I find it to be even more starkly true: I am not a writer when I am editing or critiquing someone else’s work, or composing social media articles. I am not a writer when I am grazing on wine and cheese at a fashionable literary event. I am not a writer when I am teaching, i.e. talking about craft and helping others with theirs. I am not a writer when I am tweeting other writers or keeping up on my self-promotion, or reading literary blogs. I am not a writer when I am on a search for a new book to read or when I am drinking coffee in Starbucks leafing the New York Times.

I know I am a writer when I am writing. When I am working with words, when I am making ideas and characters come to life with language. When I am laying out the pages on the desk and taking my blue sharpie to chunks of text that I know don’t work in the story, when I am lose myself and forget basics like the hour, eating, brushing my hair or teeth, while typing a paragraph where something terrible, or euphoric, or quietly illuminating is happening. This may sound naïve, but I feel strongly that I must be honest ; I must be writing while I am talking about writing. Otherwise, I feel like a fraud. Even if it’s just an hour of work on novel number two in the morning because that’s all there’s time for, or even if I’ve been working on the same damn narrative arc problem in a short story for months, I know that I cannot stand in front of either my own mirror or even in front of you, dear asker of questions, and exhort you to “show, don’t tell” or “up the emotional stakes” or instruct you to “live your passion” if I am not myself at the writing desk, messing with words, living in the trenches and heights of which I speak.

That is how it feels to be a writer; nothing more, nothing less. It’s a full-time job, anything else distracts from it. I’ve had my share of work that has taken me away from writing, and it may not be all I do, but it’s my priority in life, and the secret to being a writer is to not stop writing and to show up for work.

All the Beautiful and New

The last week cats have been surfacing in my life which took me into a tailspin about having one of my own. My kitty was given to me when I was nine years old. I liked cats, but the little creature that I quickly named Tiny Mimi, being eight weeks old and Siamese, had all the remarkable traits of that breed, inspiring affection and admiration at once. Within a few days, she quickly developed thoroughly into an engaging personality in our household. She was my ideal companion. I bought her a collar with a bell and blue gems to match her piercing blue eyes. I doted on her; drew pictures of her, groomed her, coddled her, played with her, placed in her my Schwinn bicycle basket for rides, fed her my favorite (tuna-fish and ice cream), slept with her, photographed her beauty; laughed at her mischief, and spoke softly to her when I wanted her love and attention. Being a clever Gemini kitty, she spoke back. And I being her devoted mother, listened to all of her meows. 

Photographs of her are inserted in my mothers' photo albums, perhaps I'll post them sometime. Today I discovered Hollywood film stars also had a fondness for Siamese. I completely understand. How could they not? Siamese are as loving as dogs, are intelligent, sociable, quick, adaptable, athletic, and they gravitate toward people, not on occasion as other cats do, this fine fabulous feline pedigree does because they are truly the royals of the cat kingdom. 

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3aVbJhg23Ao