I think one of the hardest things about accepting Trump’s reelection is that it feels like a mortal wound to the idea of the “beloved community” that many of us 70s kids grew up with.
Popularized by Martin Luther King Jr, the “Beloved Community” is a global vision in which racism, poverty, and militarism are eradicated—a society based on justice, equal opportunity, and love of one’s fellow human beings. In King’s words, the Beloved Community was not utopian, but attainable through hard work and commitment to ethical principles and systemic change achieved through nonviolence.
Mr. Rogers brought that vision to life for those of us who were a bit too young to remember MLK when he was alive. Mr. Rogers (and also Sesame Street) taught us there’s a place for everyone in the neighborhood. It’s better to be kind than to win. Bullies were unequivocally bad. Even the cold old Catholic Church got nicer in the seventies when the reforms of Vatican 2 led to a focus on the New Testament—lots of felt banners and folk music.
And raise your hand if you remember Free to Be, You and Me. For those who don’t remember, it was a pioneering children’s album and television special created by Marlo Thomas in the early 1970s that promoted gender equality, individuality, and emotional expression. Featuring stars like Alan Alda and Diana Ross, it encouraged kids to reject traditional stereotypes and embrace who they are, becoming a cultural touchstone for a more inclusive generation. My sister and I listened to that album over and over again.
Someday Trump will be gone.
And on that day, I’m going to listen to Free to Be, You and Me from start to finish.
Occasionally women embarrass me by doing things that seem to play into stereotypes about us. The gold digger, the gossip, the busybody, etc.
Typically I expect better of women than men, especially ones that have been around for six decades or more. They should know what truly matters in life by our age. They should be using their outgoing personalities and superior verbal skills to bring people together, rather than bickering about nonsense.
In my role as an Executive Team member of my church (thankfully ending soon!), I have been unwillingly cc’d on waaaay too many emails this year.
One recent exchange:
Woman 1:
“overkill”
Woman 2:
“rude” “rash” “confrontational” “provocative”
Woman 1:
“Rants” “put downs” “micromanager”
Result:
Awkwardness for the EIGHT people cc’d on the conversation
Relationship effectively ended between the two women
Good GAWD ladies!
This is not how email should be used!
And if I told you what they were arguing about, you would die about how stupid and minor it is.
Honestly, it reminds me of my role as Mrs. Squires in my high school’s production of The Music Man. Here’s a professional version of our big number when all the self-important hens in the town get together to gossip and complain (aka “pick a little, talk a little”):
🤣
And just for fun, here’s me on stage in my high school’s 1983 production of The Music Man:
I got to see Broadway legend Patti LuPone perform live in concert last night and it was inspiring.
She’s 75 (about to turn 76) and she fully commanded the stage for a full two-hour show (with a short intermission). She was accompanied only by a pianist and a very talented guitarist/violinist. Both men sang some backup vocals on a few songs.
At first I thought her voice sounded a bit weak, but as the performance went on, she won me over with her incredible ability to deliver the lyrics. The performance was called “A Life in Notes” and featured songs which were meaningful to her from throughout her life.
The crowd loved her and jumped to their feet many times. I think the single biggest cheer of the night came when she added a “HA!” after the line “They say I won’t last too long on Broadway” while performing the song On Broadway to open the second half.
She sang songs from each of her Tony-award winning roles including “Don’t Cry For Me Argentina” from Evita, “Some People” from Gypsy and “The Ladies Who Lunch” from Company.
She sang several popular songs from the 50s – 80s including poignant versions of “Make You Feel My Love” and “Time after Time,” which she dedicated to her family (her husband and son) with whom she spent the long Covid lockdown (“washing hands and washing groceries”). She said that time with her family had been a gift.
She talked about being in The Third Act (of life) and how she’d been looking back on all of it, from the mundane to the extraordinary, with gratitude.
I know a lot of us are anxious for “certain people” in their 70s and 80s (👀: Congress!) to relinquish their power and let younger generations fully flower, but Patti LuPone is not one of them. Her talent, wisdom, humor and sheer stamina are inspiring. She’s a Diva in the best sense of the word. A woman who owns her talent and power and does not apologize for it. I hope she never steps aside.
Three-time Tony winner Patti LuPone performing last night. She turns 76 next month.
After seeing all of the Oscar-nominated films, I watched the broadcast with great interest last night—and lots of snacks. I tried to keep them healthy-ish (fig newtons, apple butter), but by the end of the night I was eating salted dark chocolate caramels.
Considering the state of our democracy, there was an eerie lack of political commentary. Is Hollywood actually afraid to directly criticize Dear Leader?? I thought Conan did a generally good job, but he only made one joke about Trump (saying that maybe Anora was popular because people liked seeing someone stand up to a powerful Russian). And only honorary GenXer Daryl Hannah (age 64) said anything at all about Ukraine. She came out with a “Slava Ukraine 🇺🇦” before she started reading her lines from the teleprompter.
I was not a huge fan of Anora, but I was glad to see an independent film do so well. I thought that GenXer Sean Baker’s plea to get people to go see movies in theaters again was good. He’s right that there’s a certain kind of magic in the communal, big screen experience. Plus, it helps keep those independent theaters open.
For me, the best parts of the night were the Wicked parts! The two stars looked amazing on the red carpet and their opening number was electrifying. It moved from Ariana Grande singing Somewhere Over the Rainbow in a ruby slippers-inspired gown to Cynthia Erivo singing something familiar from The Wiz (the hit 70s movie musical produced by Quincy Jones) to a live version of Defying Gravity that had every woman and gay man in the audience crying Broadway tears of joy. Long live musical theater!
Later, as part of a tribute to Quincy Jones, Queen Latifah did Ease on Down the Road from The Wiz (my favorite number from that show) with a big cast of dancers. You could see Colman Domingo, along with Cynthia and Ariana, dancing in the front row.
GenX, if you missed seeing The Wiz in the seventies, then you need to go back and at least watch that number with Diana Ross (as Dorothy) and Michael Jackson (as the scarecrow).
My favorite award of the night was when Paul Tazewell won Best Costume Design for Wicked. He proudly lifted up the fact that he was the first Black man to ever win this award and it was very moving.
Costume designer Paul Tazewell
Least favorite speeches: I thought that both of the white guys winning the major acting awards—Aidan Brody and Kieran Culkin—went on too long (shushing the music several times) and were self-indulgent. Culkin used the opportunity to pressure his wife into bearing another one of his children and Brody eventually got around to mentioning something important (antisemitism) but it took forever. Sit down guys. You’re both very wealthy actors. Have some self-awareness.
In contrast, I thought Zoe Saldaña’s speech was heartfelt and meaningful. A first-generation immigrant from the Dominican Republic, she dedicated the award to her late grandmother. Plus, she looked amazing.
There are very few women who could pull off this “bubble” dress look, but I thought Zoe Saldaña wore it beautifully.
OK, we have now seen all ten of the Best Picture nominees, so I’m updating my original post (in bold) below.
Because we are old (kids grown) and have plenty of time, my husband and I try to see all the Best Picture nominees before the Academy Awards broadcast in March. Here are my quick (very unprofessional) reviews.
ANORA – I thought it was just OK. My husband liked the film more than me. The last few scenes really make the film, but it takes too long to get to them in my opinion. I do not think it’s Best Picture material, but Mikey Madison (nominated for Best Actress) does give a terrific performance as a feisty New York sex worker. (We absolutely loved her in the Hulu series “Better Things” with Pamela Adlon. Go watch her in that.)
A COMPLETE UNKNOWN – I really liked it! I thought Ed Norton and Timothée Chalamet were fantastic as Pete Seeger and Bob Dylan. I have always liked folk music, so the history of the social justice grounding of the movement was interesting to me. My husband, who is more of a punk/hardcore guy, thought it was a bit boring and melodramatic.
THE BRUTALIST – Really good. It’s actually worth sitting in a movie theater for 3.5 hours to see this epic film. (There is an intermission to get up and stretch your legs.) Adrian Brody is fantastic. It’s a think piece. And worth seeing on the big screen for the Carrera (Italy) scenes alone. It will give you something to talk about at dinner. Brutalist style architecture is currently on Trump’s enemies list, so it’s au courant as well. If The Brutalist wins Best Picture, I’ll be OK with it.
CONCLAVE – I already posted about this film. We both liked it. Ralph Fiennes is terrific as the Head Cardinal in charge of overseeing the weird, secretive process the Catholic Church uses to pick a new pope. The scenes of Rome at night and the interior of the Vatican were my favorite parts. Isabella Rossellini plays a woman with the no real power (it’s the Catholic Church after all) but she plays her small part convincingly. I don’t really think it should win Best Picture, but who knows…
DUNE: PART TWO – Neither of us liked it. It’s long and boring and not our genre. In my opinion this movie is for younger people. All effects, no heart.
EMILIA PÉREZ – Really good! And so unusual. My husband said it was the only musical he’s ever truly liked. They don’t burst into big voice belting, but just kind of quietly sing/talk at key moments. It’s very effective. I actually wish we’d seen it on a big screen rather than on TV. There are a lot of dark scenes in Mexico City that would’ve been cool to see in a big dark theater. Women play all the major roles, so it passes the Bechdel Test with flying colors. I’m definitely OK with this one winning Best Picture. I heard there’s been a major controversy with one of the stars and her very bad recent tweets, but I don’t know the details.
I’M STILL HERE – This film was hard to find. We finally saw it in an AMC theater some distance from our house. If you haven’t heard, it’s Brazilian, so you have to read subtitles the entire time (unless you happen to speak Portuguese). It’s a true story based on a family whose father/husband gets “disappeared” (aka abducted and likely killed) during a time of military dictatorship in Brazil in the 1970s. Honestly, it cuts a little too close to the bone given our country’s current flirtation with dictatorship. It’s a slippery slope from granting presidential immunity and failing to enforce existing laws, to unjustified imprisonments, torture and unmarked mass graves. History repeats itself.
NICKEL BOYS – Very artsy film about a very tough subject. It’s mostly shot “as if” you are sitting in the eyeballs of the main characters—two Black boys in an abusive Florida reform school in the Jim Crow south. I have had bouts of vertigo in the past so I have a hard time watching films with jumpy camera shots, especially when they invert or spin. I had to close my eyes a lot in this one. I’m glad I saw it, but can’t say I actually enjoyed it.
THE SUBSTANCE – This is a horror movie people! Demi Moore and Margaret Qualley are fantastic, but I had to close my eyes a LOT. It’s “body horror” so a lot of gross stuff happens. If you’re OK with that, it’s worth seeing. There are a whole lot of women (including some I know and love) who put tremendous effort and money into defying nature with Botox and fillers, crazy face and body treatments, and actual scalpel surgeries. It’s a window into this mentality that goes completely off the rails as the movie progresses. Not Best Picture material, but worth streaming. (Also, tidbit for GenXers: Margaret Qualley is Andy McDowell’s daughter! She’s gorgeous like her mom, but in a completely different way.)
WICKED – I’ve already posted about Wicked. I loved it! It probably won’t win Best Picture because it was a huge blockbuster, but it probably should because it brought so much enjoyment, just like Barbie did last year. As previously mentioned, my husband doesn’t like musicals and even he said Wicked was “good.” From the moment Ariana Grande dropped down into Oz (a land of gingers) in a pink soap bubble carriage, I was all in.
Boston City Hall is the most well-known example of Brutalist architecture in Massachusetts.
And the winner is: The Brutalist – it’s a tour de force in filmmaking (made with a relatively tiny budget). I’ll see if I’m right on March 2. What are other people thinking? What have you liked?
Today my baby girl turns 30 and I am verklempt 🥺. When I turned thirty, I had the cutest little 4-month old baby girl. And now history is repeating itself and my daughter has the sweetest little 4-month old baby girl. It’s a joy and a blessing almost too poignant for words. It’s like once you have a child of your own, you finally understand how much your mother loves you.
Joni Mitchell’s song The Circle Game keeps playing in my head and bringing a tear.
Yesterday a child came out to wonder Caught a dragonfly inside a jar Fearful when the sky was full of thunder And tearful at the falling of a star
Then the child moved ten times round the seasons Skated over ten clear frozen streams Words like when you’re older must appease him And promises of someday make his dreams
And the seasons they go round and round And the painted ponies go up and down We’re captive on the carousel of time We can’t return we can only look Behind from where we came And go round and round and round In the circle game
Sixteen springs and sixteen summers gone now Cartwheels turn to car wheels thru the town And they tell him take your time it won’t be long now Till you drag your feet to slow the circles down
And the seasons they go round and round And the painted ponies go up and down We’re captive on the carousel of time We can’t return we can only look Behind from where we came And go round and round and round In the circle game
So the years spin by and now the boy is twenty Though his dreams have lost some grandeur coming true There’ll be new dreams maybe better dreams and plenty Before the last revolving year is through
And the seasons they go round and round And the painted ponies go up and down We’re captive on the carousel of time We can’t return we can only look Behind from where we came And go round and round and round In the circle game
Sometimes your little life overlaps with historic events.
I’ve already written about the nation’s bicentennial and how I was there to see President Ford speak at the Old North Bridge in Concord in April 1976. I was ten.
I was reminded of another historic event while watching President Carter’s funeral this week—the Iranian hostage crisis (1979-81). American GenXers will remember this because it was such a BIG deal. Everyone knew about it. Yellow ribbons were everywhere.
In a nutshell: In November 1979, Iranian militants stormed the U.S. Embassy in Tehran, taking 52 American diplomats and citizens hostage, including Bill Keough, a former school superintendent in my town. The hostage takers were mad at the U.S. for supporting the deposed “Shah” of Iran.
They kept those poor people captive for 444(!) days—in very harsh conditions—led by the evil “Ayatollah Khomeini.” (Every GenXer knows how to say that guy’s name because it was on the news every single night.) Diplomatic efforts failed, and a U.S. military rescue mission, Operation Eagle Claw, ended in disaster in April 1980, killing eight servicemen. This severely damaged President Jimmy Carter’s administration and contributed to his loss in the 1980 election. The hostages were released on January 20, 1981, just minutes after Ronald Reagan’s inauguration, following the signing of the Algiers Accords (for which the Carter administration did all the legwork).
When the hostages were finally released, everyone watched with bated breath and there was widespread jubilation, especially in my town where we knew one of them! My high school marching band was invited to participate in a massive homecoming parade for Mr. Keough.
As one of the “goose-fleshed majorettes,” I mainly remember how COLD it was. I was 16, with not an ounce of fat on me, wearing a short little dress and holding a cold metal stick — in Massachusetts in FEBRUARY. Having recently compared notes with one of the “rosy-cheeked trumpeters,” I was reminded that our band director Mr. Toland made a last-minute decision to nix “The Empire Strikes Back” (one of our favorite numbers to perform) as we approached the grandstand. I guess he “read the room” and realized Darth Vader’s theme song was not the thing to play when celebrating triumph over the actual Evil Empire (Iran).
I was not political in high school. My parents didn’t talk much about politics (possibly because they were on opposite sides of the fence) and I cared way more about my hair than inflation or gas prices. But watching President Carter’s moving funeral, I was struck by how little credit he got for the hostage release. In The Boston Globe article above, Mr. Keough gave President Carter and his team full credit and gratitude for getting him home:
“Keough took the occasion, as he would again at a ceremony after the parade, to praise the handling of the hostage crisis by former President Jimmy Carter and his negotiating team “even in the face of personal disasters in their own careers.” “We are thankful that our President made the right decisions all along the way.” he said, adding his “eternal gratitude to the eight young men who died trying to rescue us and who will live in my memory and I hope in yours.”
GenX, if you didn’t get a chance to watch President Carter’s funeral and have time for only one clip, I suggest you watch President Ford’s eulogy, delivered by his son Steve. It’s hard to imagine that this level of grace and humility in politics existed in our lifetime.
Here I am in my skinny majorette days practicing with the marching band.
These days everyone is encouraged to “look at the source” of information they take in. “Don’t believe everything you hear” is a common refrain.
Well, my husband and I have the same policy with TV and movies. Certain people are in the “respected recommender” category. If Alissa or Ann or Gina tell us we should watch something because we’ll love it, we listen. I even jot it down for future reference.
Other people are in “the grain of salt” category. We’ll listen to their recommendations, but we have to consider the source. They might be someone we like very much personally, but we just don’t share their taste in TV and movies.
Some people who were once under consideration to be respected recommenders have recently been categorized “grain of salt” based on highly touting a pretty stupid show on Netflix. (I’m not going to say the name of the show, because many are finding it delightful.)
Now that Boston Globe TV critic Matthew Gilbert retired, I feel a little lost sometimes. If you’re the kind of person that eagerly awaited each new episode of Succession and is sad that both What We do in The Shadows and Somebody Somewhere just ended forever, then I’m listening.
We’re already aware and are excited for new seasons of Severance and White Lotus starting soon. And I went ahead and bought tickets to see A Complete Unknown on New Year’s Eve, because even though it’s getting mixed reviews, Bob Dylan is Bob Dylan. And I like to see all the big rock biopics on a big screen, with that big Hollywood sound.
At Christmas dinner yesterday, my father told me he had run into my old friend Debbie at the fish market. They recognized each other and exchanged some quick pleasantries.
Debbie and I were neighborhood friends who ended up becoming close friends for many years. She knew my parents well and I knew her family too. Her dad was a great guy. We took several trips to California and Florida in our late teens and twenties. We did a fair number of edgy things together including lots of underage drinking, shoplifting, dine-n-dashing, and at least one crazy 80s Spring Break trip to Fort Lauderdale. (Wet t-shirt contest anyone?) Debbie was 18 months older than me (a year ahead of me in high school) and liked to party and dance. I’m sure my first nightclub experience was with her. Even though she was a true redhead, she loved the sun like I did and we went to the beach as often as possible. We went skiing a few times too and once spun out in my mother’s car driving in a snowstorm. We did a 180 and hit the guardrail. (Debbie was driving at the time and we were fine.) In fact, we wanted to carry on with our ski trip with one headlight dangling, but when we called my parents from a gas station, they made us come home.
Debbie and I stayed friends for many years through a variety of life experiences including her being severely burned in a freak accident. (I remember visiting her in Shriner’s Burn Center where I saw the most horrifically scarred young children.) We knew each other’s deepest, darkest secrets. We attended each other’s weddings and then drifted apart as we became mothers and got busy raising kids. Still, we sent Christmas cards and occasionally saw each other in person.
Then, at some point during the second Obama administration her right-leaning political posts on Facebook caused a tiff between us. We unfriended each other and that was that. Some years later, I felt badly about it, but figured she had probably morphed into a Trump supporter, so what would be the purpose of reaching out. We were too different by then.
You know that expression about some friends being for a reason, some for a season, and some for a lifetime? Well, at one point I might’ve thought we’d be friends for a lifetime, but it turns out we were friends for a season. And our season was the 1980s. Big time.
Christmas 1989 (towards the end of our close friendship)
If I had to pick one song that tends to trigger a Debbie memory, it would be Kool & the Gang’s Celebration. I picture us dancing around in front of a mirror, sipping some alcohol, while we made our hair as big & fluffy as possible for whatever came next.
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