I had a terrible few days. I mean, nothing was right, just nothing! By the time Thursday rolled around, I was tired, old, broke, felt fat, suffering from bad hair, sick of my wardrobe, drowning in "Veterans' History Project" Reports/Interviews to type, overwhelmed with undone "things" that need completion, just in the pits! Have you ever had a week like that? I mean honestly? I had an earworm, "Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, I'm going to eat some worms..." That rhyme just wouldn't go away.
An Easter Gift for the trio, my daughter and myself was a trip, on opening night, in VIP seating to RINGLING BROTHERS, BARNUM & BAILEY CIRCUS! Now, I must share, I have loved the circus since I was a little girl. I remember the Big Top! I remember the PanAm Circus coming to Paterson, the Wallace Brothers under the Big Top in Totowa. In Atlantic City, the Cole Brothers performed under the Big Top - I was there! I remember Ringling Brothers coming to Madison Square Garden from childhood as well. Every year, we took our children to RINGLING BROTHERS from infancy until, like tonight? Anyway, I put on my big girl panties, slapped on a smile and the five of us headed to The Nutter Center! The "PreShow" of the Circus began to chisel away my anxiety, my insecurities. The performers were engaging, welcoming, FUN was brewing! Revelers were told to go to their seats, because the show was about to begin...Lights dimmed...Anticipation mounted...after a comedic prelude...
Enter The Ringmaster:
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, CHILDREN OF ALL AGES, WELCOME TO RINGLING BROTHERS AND BARNUM & BAILEY CIRCUS! "
As the Circus Parade entered the Arena, I watched the Todd, Tess, Tanner wide-eyed "raising the roof" to upbeat, club music. As the performers entered and spilled into the Arena, my heart opened, my very soul spilled out in fusion with the lights, the music, the performers, the gaiety! I heard myself say, "Wave as they pass and the clowns, elephant riders, dancers will wave back!" They did! I was connected and transported to another parallel galaxy! I was swept into the color, the spirit of amazing talent, versatile Circus Band, incredible ability and engulfing entertainment! When we were asked to leave our seats and sit in the center ring to watch some of the presentation before the intermission, the clowns made us feel as if they were "saving our seats" like old friends to join them for an evening of diversion! If the children smiled any wider, their faces would have cracked into pieces. I heard myself ooooo and ahhhhhhh, laugh out loud, clap to the beat of the throbbing music, applaud!
The jugglers, acrobats, aerialists were flawless, smooth, able. I swear, they all earned "A +'s" in gym! The animal trainer had an endearing, warm manner. ( I wonder if Priscilla could earn a few of her Kit & Kaboodle bits the way her beautiful "cousins" do! )
I realized that I didn't feel like a grandmother with her daughter and grandchildren in tow. I felt my spirit lift, my head clear! I was a child, I was carefree! The rent wasn't due, the bills were not strewn across my floor (I had thrown them up in the air for God to select which He would pay this month), I wasn't carrying the extra five pounds that I battle, my hair was rather perfect! I was exhilarated, not tired. I loved my outfit, I looked forward to a weekend for Veterans reports, I was light, free! My broomstick was transformed into light, fairy wings that twinkled!
Ladies and Gentlemen, there is "something" for everyone at the Circus! The effects are amazing, the costumes bright, beautiful! The acts are so diversified that if one isn't just what you "love", the next one will win your vote, two hands up! You have a friend at the Circus. The Circus eagerly awaits you! You are not alone at the Circus. You have no sadness, no fear, no negativity at the Circus. If more people experienced the Circus, possibly more counselors and therapists might have lighter schedules. I have no credentials to really say.
As the finale burst forward and the entire cast, again, paraded in the midst of fireworks, confetti, song, dance, enthusiastic waves I could feel myself swell with appreciation. Perhaps we would all be better off (and not experience those funky weeks that I described at the beginning) if we took to heart the Ringmaster's traditional parting words which resonate deeply within my very being:
"MAY ALL YOUR DAYS BE CIRCUS DAYS!"
Laura Macy Author & Actress
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Friday, April 13, 2012
A GUIDE FOR AFFLUENT MEN DIVORCING
There was an affluent couple divorcing after twenty-three years of marriage. We are not here to determine who is right, who is wrong, or whatever human nature dictates about what we have a major gab fest. Fact: DIVORCE.
They had two homes, two cars, two homes, the works. The 50/50 community property thing was no big deal.
Because they could afford that she be a "stay at home Mom", he was ordered to pay that old dreaded (to men) A word...ALIMONY! Oh, boy! However, it was to only last for fifteen years. She, thinking that she was not too shabby, petite, pretty, witty, etc would remarry, thought the entire deal fair...He figured the same thing. (point of agreement, why are they divorced?)
Mr. Divorced now had a quandry. He met a "child"...well, married someone about twenty years younger than he, immediately. (By the way, they divorced after three years and a child, but, that is not my blog right now). He needed to jump off of the alimony merry-go-round. He offered his children $50,000 if they could find a match for Mom. He offered his cousin $50,000 to get Mrs. Divorced off of his hands and out of his pocket!
His children hadn't a clue as to where to find Mr. $$$ for Mom. His cousin tried and came up with a man who needed a few $$$ himself and no matter how much he loved Mrs. Divorce, had to fork out his own alimony for fifteen years and just couldn't swing it!
AFFLUENT, DIVORCING MEN...LISTEN CLOSELY!!!
At about the time the gavel goes down declaring you a single man, you send the soon to be Mrs. Divorced to a health camp...Elizabeth Arden's MAIN CHANCE is the ticket to ride. You have her lipo-ed, reworked, enhanced. You get her "the works"...massages, facials, mani/pedis, special diets, workouts, tightened, flattened, stretched and snapped into amazing shape for a month. She walks out of there looking like a contender for the the centerfold of Playboy. You have an appointment ready for a complete make over when she is discharged from her 30 day spa vaca. New hair, new make-up. Then you buy her the most amazing wardrobe that would make the Paris shows weep with envy. Then, you make sure she has a golf pro, a tennis pro and if necessary a ballroom dance pro. Now you are rolling man! Last, but not least, you give her a membership in an exclusive country club loaded with professionals like yourself with the same basic bank balance, also with the middle age itch, divorcing. By middle age, face it, men are divorcing or widower-ing...lonely.
Within a year or so, because it would not be acceptable to "shack up", or date for too long...you have her married off! You have saved a bundle in the long run and you, do the math, know it!
Now, cheapies, if you think that the above program is over the top...how about a dowry? If the children above, or the cousin and his wife could have mentioned that Mom was amazing and comes with a bounty...hey, hey...you have her married off and you are out of the ALIMONY Game!
I marvel at the lack of common sense in our so-called intelligent society. I am sure, women reading this are saying, "Hey, yeah! You go girl". I think that men are possibly saying,"I never thought of that" and have stopped trying to ask their attorneys to come up with some official paperwork to have an alimony reduction ordered after a few years and are sharpening their pencils to come up with a fair amount to offer as a dowry.
I know that Divorce is difficult, emotional, and so it goes, but really THINK, THINK, THINK and look beyond the immediate situation that you are over and look toward concrete life plans! IT'S WIN-WIN!
They had two homes, two cars, two homes, the works. The 50/50 community property thing was no big deal.
Because they could afford that she be a "stay at home Mom", he was ordered to pay that old dreaded (to men) A word...ALIMONY! Oh, boy! However, it was to only last for fifteen years. She, thinking that she was not too shabby, petite, pretty, witty, etc would remarry, thought the entire deal fair...He figured the same thing. (point of agreement, why are they divorced?)
Mr. Divorced now had a quandry. He met a "child"...well, married someone about twenty years younger than he, immediately. (By the way, they divorced after three years and a child, but, that is not my blog right now). He needed to jump off of the alimony merry-go-round. He offered his children $50,000 if they could find a match for Mom. He offered his cousin $50,000 to get Mrs. Divorced off of his hands and out of his pocket!
His children hadn't a clue as to where to find Mr. $$$ for Mom. His cousin tried and came up with a man who needed a few $$$ himself and no matter how much he loved Mrs. Divorce, had to fork out his own alimony for fifteen years and just couldn't swing it!
AFFLUENT, DIVORCING MEN...LISTEN CLOSELY!!!
At about the time the gavel goes down declaring you a single man, you send the soon to be Mrs. Divorced to a health camp...Elizabeth Arden's MAIN CHANCE is the ticket to ride. You have her lipo-ed, reworked, enhanced. You get her "the works"...massages, facials, mani/pedis, special diets, workouts, tightened, flattened, stretched and snapped into amazing shape for a month. She walks out of there looking like a contender for the the centerfold of Playboy. You have an appointment ready for a complete make over when she is discharged from her 30 day spa vaca. New hair, new make-up. Then you buy her the most amazing wardrobe that would make the Paris shows weep with envy. Then, you make sure she has a golf pro, a tennis pro and if necessary a ballroom dance pro. Now you are rolling man! Last, but not least, you give her a membership in an exclusive country club loaded with professionals like yourself with the same basic bank balance, also with the middle age itch, divorcing. By middle age, face it, men are divorcing or widower-ing...lonely.
Within a year or so, because it would not be acceptable to "shack up", or date for too long...you have her married off! You have saved a bundle in the long run and you, do the math, know it!
Now, cheapies, if you think that the above program is over the top...how about a dowry? If the children above, or the cousin and his wife could have mentioned that Mom was amazing and comes with a bounty...hey, hey...you have her married off and you are out of the ALIMONY Game!
I marvel at the lack of common sense in our so-called intelligent society. I am sure, women reading this are saying, "Hey, yeah! You go girl". I think that men are possibly saying,"I never thought of that" and have stopped trying to ask their attorneys to come up with some official paperwork to have an alimony reduction ordered after a few years and are sharpening their pencils to come up with a fair amount to offer as a dowry.
I know that Divorce is difficult, emotional, and so it goes, but really THINK, THINK, THINK and look beyond the immediate situation that you are over and look toward concrete life plans! IT'S WIN-WIN!
Sunday, April 1, 2012
PALM SUNDAY REFLECTION...THEN AND NOW
Today is Palm Sunday. I grew up in a traditional Italian Catholic home, so today was "big stuff". To briefly inform: Palm Sunday is the beginning of Holy Week. Palms are distributed at Mass; the Gospel is so long that it lasts until next year, as so it went. In all seriousness(for a nano second), Holy Week is the most intense and most important week in our Liturgical Year and Easter ranks as the Most Holy of Days. All of that being said...I'm sure Sr. Claudine from St. Paul's RC School is proud...
As a little girl, I would be dressed in an "almost" Easter Outfit for Palm Sunday Mass. If it still fit, last year's Easter Dress was this year's Palm Sunday dress. Palm Sunday dinner was "almost" as important as Easter Dinner. "I'll do Palm Sunday, here; and we'll go to your place for Easter" was the usual banter and planning that could be heard among the adults. Homemade manicotti (pronounced MON-AH-COTTA)or a basically gourmet Italian meal would be on the menu to overeat!
One tradition that is still so vivid to me: You brought your "Godmother" a Palm from Mass. My Godmother was Aunt Nina. She was my father's sister, really named Anna Maria. However, as a little baby, Aunt Anna Maria had way too many syllables...I swear I heard "Aunt Nina" and believe me, so did the entire family after I enlightened them! Well, maybe except her father, Ralph the Barber.
So, after Mass, before Palm Sunday dinner, my father would take me to visit Anut Nina with a Palm. I usually saw Aunt Nina at some time on the Weekends anyway because I would bring Bubbles (her dog) my egg whites in a wax paper sandwich bag. I didn't/don't eat "edges" and Bubbles looked forward to the visit. He did eat anything that didn't eat him first! But, bringing the Palm to Aunt Nina was special, as was she (passed from this life 2 years ago) egg whites be damned.
The flood of Palm Sunday memory swelled and overran my brain, when after Mass, I phoned home (New Jersey) to chit-chat, etc. My family was together (sans my children and three grandchildren...just didn't work out from Ohio). We all agreed to speak later.
So, Aunt Nina, from my heart to yours, here is your Palm, I thought/prayed as I leaned over my sink and nibbled Couscous and jelly beans!
As a little girl, I would be dressed in an "almost" Easter Outfit for Palm Sunday Mass. If it still fit, last year's Easter Dress was this year's Palm Sunday dress. Palm Sunday dinner was "almost" as important as Easter Dinner. "I'll do Palm Sunday, here; and we'll go to your place for Easter" was the usual banter and planning that could be heard among the adults. Homemade manicotti (pronounced MON-AH-COTTA)or a basically gourmet Italian meal would be on the menu to overeat!
One tradition that is still so vivid to me: You brought your "Godmother" a Palm from Mass. My Godmother was Aunt Nina. She was my father's sister, really named Anna Maria. However, as a little baby, Aunt Anna Maria had way too many syllables...I swear I heard "Aunt Nina" and believe me, so did the entire family after I enlightened them! Well, maybe except her father, Ralph the Barber.
So, after Mass, before Palm Sunday dinner, my father would take me to visit Anut Nina with a Palm. I usually saw Aunt Nina at some time on the Weekends anyway because I would bring Bubbles (her dog) my egg whites in a wax paper sandwich bag. I didn't/don't eat "edges" and Bubbles looked forward to the visit. He did eat anything that didn't eat him first! But, bringing the Palm to Aunt Nina was special, as was she (passed from this life 2 years ago) egg whites be damned.
The flood of Palm Sunday memory swelled and overran my brain, when after Mass, I phoned home (New Jersey) to chit-chat, etc. My family was together (sans my children and three grandchildren...just didn't work out from Ohio). We all agreed to speak later.
So, Aunt Nina, from my heart to yours, here is your Palm, I thought/prayed as I leaned over my sink and nibbled Couscous and jelly beans!
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