Endings

So many parties, so many gatherings, so many events to attend. And here we are, exhausted, toxified, and feeling a wee bit jaded during the holiday season. While I received some very nice gifts this year I'd have to say the best present I gave by far was the adoption of a wolf pack sponsored by Defenders of Wildlife . You can not only give packs of wolves, but Penguins, Bears, Dolphins. Oh my. You can also give these gifts in memory of a loved one, as I'm thinking of doing for a recently lost cousin.

So as we begin the Fifth Year of the Mayan calendar in December and as Winter Solstice brings the promise of longer days, more sunlight, warmer weather - we kiss 2006 goodbye.

43 Years Later

I was too young to remember JFK’s death. But my Mom does, she tells it like this:

“I was nine months pregnant in a little village in Chandalapadu that was so poor, even the dogs begged. Daddy was in Bombay on business. Grandma and Grandpa were taking care of the villagers – as doctor, as pastor. Suddenly we heard the news over the radio, John F. Kennedy was shot and killed. This was a terrible thing, Indians loved this man for some reason, even though he was not their own political figure. The entire village was grieving and into this woe you were born two days later.”

JFK might not have affected my life, but he sure as hell affected my birth.

Countdown to a new Government?

So here it is. Halfway through probably the most important day of 2006. Election day with the possibility of the Democrats taking over power. I say possibility due to the screw-ups from the past two elections - in which both times the exit polls indicated a win for the Dems. But instead, magically the tally edged in the favor of the Republicans. Who knows what the Rove machine has in mind for this mid term election? What I do know is I got my butt out there first thing this morning. Checked off the entire Dem line and am sitting back to watch what unfolds.

It's terrible to think there's nothing else we can do. But there are more options for a new government seeking female. Maya Del Mar, on her exceptional website: The Daykeeper Journal offers a prayer for the planet. This simple prayer asks that those not in alignment of the highest good for mankind be removed from office. Think of many, millions of people uttering a prayer like that. The group conscious level will unfold this earth, rise above the stratosphere and climb into the heavens with such clarity of intent and requirement.

The other thing we can do is a bit more extreme. Maya also compares the USA unfavorably to smaller, less democratically recognized nations such as Ukraine and Mexico. Both of these countries have in the past year endured clandestined, tarnished elections. But instead of acceptance, the people revolted and DEMANDED that they get the candidate they wanted. They basically said "no way, nah ah we gonna accept that lamebrain of a buy-out." And they forced the right candidate into power. Big lesson to be learned here. And if things go red-wise tomorrow, think it's our only choice.

Election Hoopla

Not so happy with John Kerry these days. Not for making the comment about studying hard to avoid getting sent to Iraq, no problem with that at all. I mean of all people John Kerry would know that it SUCKS to get stuck in a hostile country, fighting a war with the sole premise of protecting Big Oil interests. So what's the big deal here folks? I'm ticked off that Kerry apologized for his comment. What he said is in no way derogatory of the troops in Iraq. They only re-affirm the truth about war - it's undesirable, it's dangerous and it's not a final solution.

Kerry should have stuck to his, um, guns. He should have said - I entirely support our men and women busting their asses on foreign soil so I can drive my Canary Yellow Hummer without fearing the disappearance of that little thing called gasoline. He should have said - study hard boys and girls. Learn that education and intelligence can make a difference in this world. You can make a difference by using your God-given talents for the enrichment of all mankind. You don't have to sacrifice your youth, your body, your family or your life for the sake of your country. Be smart and learns how to make a difference in this world by getting a great education. Learn what the world, not just your town or your state or your country thinks. Learn the history of ancient people and lands. Then you will be armed with knowledge to make decisions, instead of following a masculine directive to outpower and destroy.

Ok, so maybe Kerry wouldn't have said all that. But someone sure should.

65 Years of Grace

So the Libran mother was approaching her 65th birthday. How's a daughter to celebrate such an event for a woman, no less a mother? The thought arises that an intimate party with 50 or so relatives and friends would be fitting. And so the planning ensues; selection of an Indian restaurant of high caliber, reaching out to family for a save the date call, selection of possible birthday presents. All goes smoothly until a phone call from the mother in which she solemnly notifies daughter that she is not in good health (crutches-bound from a previous illness that continues to take it's toll) and would daughter refrain from planning any large soiree involving mass quantities of friends/family or woodland creatures.

Stumped. But of course I have to concede. It's the woman's request for God's sake. So then what to do? How to celebrate 65 years of daughterhood, sisterhood, motherhood, and friendship. Pondering on that I realized the best way to capture all these roles was through the vehicles of prose and pictures. So this daughter began to research the art of Memory Book making. I began to gather pictures from all manner of sources - My Dad, my brother, my aunts & uncles and finally my own stash of family photogs. What resulted was a mishmash of ancient black and white 'snaps' taken in India with the name of the studio emblazoned on the back. One picture is actually a black and white photo that the studio had taken upon themself to paint. Unlucky for the studio, Mom wore a gorgeous sari of peacock blue with numerous 'eye' of the peacock in a multitude of colors; pink, yellow, green, red and so on. Can you imagine the poor sot who had to paint pix?

More photos were unearthed. Mom and Dad's wedding picture. The picture of me on my belly - fat head, big hair and dimpled elbows. Pictures of the dog long since departed. Pictures of grandparents and family who have left this earth. I realized I had many areas to cover and being the writer that I am, blocked them into themes. Then came the fun job of scanning and reducing precious pix that no copy machine could ever replace. I took the advice of several professional book makers and kept to theme-oriented pages rather than splattering images left and right. This proved most helpful and I was able to create 40 pages of images, with each page telling a story through words and pictures. Keep in mind this took 3 weeks of arduous snipping, glueing (non acidic), cutting with ragged edges scissors that I purchased from Michaels, my favorite new shopping destination. By the end of 3 weeks my back was arched in an old ladies sciatic position. My hands were discolored from the glue and my fiance hadn't seen me in bed before 1:00 am the entire time.

Hope it's worth it, he says. Speaking words I dared not say.

Comes the actual birthday. The drive down to Maryland in Yom Kippur traffic. Oy! The traffic-ridden jaunt to the nation's capitol - deep within Connecticut Street territory. The seating at an upscale Indian restaurant and finally, the giving of gifts. Mom, here's a little something special. Raised eyebrows, sighs and the flipping of pages. Then she does it again. And again, pointing out this to Dad and that to my brother. She clutches it the entire evening and we deposit it back in its case to make room for the food. The stuffed Brinjals are tasty, albeit not spicy enough. The lamb Empanadas are delish! Flakey and hot. The Tandoori medley my brother orders is cute although so small as to barely satisfy his 6 year old daughter. Dad ignores his lamb, pining for Mom's cooking.

Off to home. Two days later I receive a call from the Birthday Girl who informs me that she has been reading my book. Rekhalu, she tells me, it's so lovely. I have just one request. I want to add more pages of my own.

So be it.

As the World Turns

A full moon lunar eclipse, 2 housing contracts that fell through, a blow to the head, sparring Jack Russells and fishing with chum. These are things that have transpired since I last wrote in this blog. Been a wild and wooly week. And today just happens to be the last day of summer. While I'd like to rhapsodize over the lure and luxury of summer's sun, my wilted head limits my capacity to thus rhapsodize so I'll just say: dammit. I hate when it gets cold and dark. My dog hates it as well, huddling his wee, dog bones under any blanket or comforter that he can find. Usually it's my $700 all down comforter. Handy comforter, it warms what lays upon it as well as what lays under it. Lucky dog.

And did I mention that in addition to being the last day of summer, today also heralds the solar eclipse. The Autumnal Equinox begins the season and ends the sun-rich growing season. The focus from now will be reaping the benefits of what we have sown. So I think back on what I've nurtured and fed, watered and fertilized over the season. And I welcome the fruits of my labor.

The Full Moon Coven

Saturday night, as temperate and lovely a late summer's night as you could wish. A few of my friends come over for a late season cookout. The Argentinian flank steak has been marinating for a week. The vegetable lasagna has been baked to crusty perfection. The salads are chilling, the artichoke tapenade is ready to spread on crunchy toasted bruschetta. The ladies arrive. A red-headed priestess of the Celtic Shaman order. A volcanic Latina with curly ringlets who can spot your aura a mile away accompanied by her lissome teenage daughter. Man I wish I knew the things she know about the cosmos at her age, instead of being fed Protestant catechisms and turn-your-cheek supplications. The sexy sun-kissed Jersey Mom is last to arrive with her sublime 9 year-old daughter.

Only one problem. Ok, two. The grill won't light and there's no Citronella oil for the tiki torches. It is after all late summer and mosquitos don't give up that easily. I trek off to Target, to Shop n Stop and finally to a local QuickChek. No luck. The girls are getting antsy so we pile into Jersey Girl's van with freaking neat-o self-operating sliding doors and head off to Home Depot. And guess what? the men in orange aprons don't have a lick of oil left. Dammit to all hell! Back to the house where I sheepishly call the fiance for some desperate intervention. Said man has stayed out of the equation intentionally, shy of witchy women during a full moon he is, and rightly so. The grill fires up AFTER we consume the salad and lasagna. At least the hot fudge sundaes are a hit, rapidly chowed by all and it's a few hours of star gazing, fire watching and gabbing.

At least it didn't rain.

Full Moon Lunar Eclipse Insomnia

Perhaps it's the lunar eclipse that occurs tonight or the wacky rain-drenching, downright chilly weather in August! (Can you say Global Warming George? It's easier than Camus.) Whatever the cause I haven't been able to sleep at night. So in an attempt to lull myself into a somnolent state of boredom I've been checking out late night TV, which, with the exception of the Daily Show and Animal Planet suck so bad I'm jolted awake. Thank God for the Animal Planet (and Discovery Channel) for being my savior lately with some extraordinary shows.

Saturday night they aired an awesome combo of animal responses to the South East Asian Tsunami and the migration of a tribe of elephants led by the matriarch. Nuff said there. The tsunami show was remarkable, demonstrating that yes indeedy, animals are smarter than humans. Ok, ok, at least they are more attuned to the earth than we moronic humanoids, who apparently are the idjits of our green planet. One segment showed how monkeys ran for higher ground, followed by the smarter folks who realized something was underfoot. Another segment portrayed a baby elephant rescuing a young girl from the beach minutes before it became inundated with a wall of water. She returned a year later to spend time with her rescuer who recognized her immediately. Girlfriends are like that.

While those familiar with Sci Fi dame Anne MacCaffrey know the deep history between dolphins and man, however the divers off the coast of Indonesia were astounded when dolphins came to their rescue underwater during the tsunami. The survivors claimed that the dolphins tried to keep them afloat and divert them into safer waters. Not all animals in the water fared well. Much of the rare green tortoise egg population was drowned and washed away, much to the heartbreak of their caretaker, a local man who spends his life devoted to the creatures. He has apparently spent $500,000 of his own money nesting, incubating, feeding and raising sea turtles. Some people spend that amount on far less worthy causes, like Prada bags or James Blount CDs.

While my insomnia continued I was able to catch one more breathtaking show. It was called Free Diver. I'd seen a commercial for it and assumed it was a fruity attempt to show off some chick in a really tight silver wetsuit. Ok, so it does that too but the best part is what she does. Tanya Street not only wears tight silver wetsuits but is a world-record holding free diver. While this alone is not enough to warrant a TV show on the Animal Planet, (I mean if this were enough I'd have a show with my dog Duke called the Jack Russells of Passaic Park, NJ) what is cause for merit is the woman's courage and fascination with underwater creatures. Donning her wetsuit and nose gear that makes her look like a Los Angeles Laker, she dives into a given body of water, this time in the Galapagos, cavorting with drakes, penguins and seals. The drakes swim half submerged in water, kick their beaks into the air and dive for fish and yummy algae-like thingies. This guy in particular tolerated her presence, but in truth preferred his solo hunting. Now the penguins were just darling. After one dive she exclaimed, "aren't they just the cutest?" And they sure were, shooting through the water with such agility that makes up for their lamentable land skills. I mean, short flightless aquatic birds are no joke in the water. Too bad Opus never got to strut his stuff on Bloom County. Then they bobbed like a curious flock around her on the surface of the water. You know what I would have done? I would have grabbed one of the dumpling penguins and run off home with him. He'd learn to like my bathtub and play with Duke, eventually. The final swim sequence involved the most remarkable swimmers - seals. Tanya, really, the girl has no fear - broke into a group of them and just hung around. Hey guys, wanna play? And they did. They swooped near her, rolled over in very agile underwater somersaults that she emulated. Then they began bringing her shells, which she studiously accepted and then threw for them to retrieve. Tell me this: if a seal can learn to retrieve, why can't a president learn how to listen?

How a Hero says Goodbye

What strikes me most powerfully about Andre Agassi's farewell tour at the US open is not his flamboyant demeanor nor his shifts in style: from 80s kitsch to Zenlike parity. Nor will it be his undeniable legacy to the technical world of tennis: the return of serve. Commentator and former Grand Slam champ Jim Courier best captured the shot when he said, Nobody had ever used the return of serve as a weapon. Andre showed us how. Altho these are fine and fun attributes, what will linger as a sweet surprise is his journey from Boy to Hero.

We all remember his juvenile proclaimations in the 80s when he claimed "Image is everything". Sure it was - to him as it is to any kid with shitloads of money, that gets followed and emulated worldwide. When you're 20 something these are the things that consume you: hair, fashion, attracting the opposite sex. So he lived the life of a rockstar. And sported the attitude to boot. Then came arch rival Pete Sampras who thwarted Andre's pursuit of the best. Perhaps he learned from this for instead of futilely hunting # 1 he honed other skills. He learned to rise above his competition, to reach profound depths of self when all else was failing. He learned to be an honorable player, which is better than best since #1 is a fleeting position anyway easily chiseled away by injury or a loss.

As Agassi sat through the 8 minute standing ovation after his defeat Sunday, tears pouring down his face you got the chance to see a hero. A man unashamed to display his emotion for the ferociously supportive crowd. He wept, but I think more out of amazement for the love and respect the crowd bathed upon him. And like a real man he accepted it by feeling the gift through the eloquent words he gave back: I have found you. His eloquence carried on into the locker room during the tribute his fellow players gave him and later in the press conference with the media. He could have let disappointment embitter and destroy his career, his life. Instead he chose a sympathetic partner - one of the best female players of all time. He fathered adorable kids that are already capitalizing on their fame via the vehicle of commercials. And he became the most important player in the past 20 years as Lindsey Davenport generously attributed. And now a new door opens as he considers the position of Commissioner of Tennis, as he continues to raise millions for children's charities.

Who knows what this hero has up his sleeve next? Andy Roddick put it best when he said: We have yet to see his greatest contribution.

Ode to a Croc Hunter

Life's like that. Unpredictable and often unjust. On September 4th, Steve Irwin died from a blow to the heart from the barb of a sting ray. Just like that. The man who evaded Cobras, scrapped with Tasmanian Devils, cuddled tiger cubs, outraced crocodiles and just plain loved and defended the wee creatures of this earth died. Hardly seems fair. I mean here's a guy who advocates environmentalism, educates the masses through television, devotes his time to the Australia Zoo and serves humanity through his passion for wildlife. In a freak accident his demise leaves a gaping hole in this universe severely handicapped of animal and natural altruists. I mean the guy cries for stranded whales, for God's sakes. How can it be fair that a man of that ilk gets prematurely taken when the dolts at Pennsylvania Avenue survive to add even greater dollars to their bank accounts and wreak havoc to every corner of the world? Can't be fair. All we can hope is their next life will be painful and humilitating. Meanwhile Stevo, dance off to your next adventure mate.

Waiting for Ernesto

First of all, I must rejoice over the Agassi's 5 set victory over Marcos Baghdatis. I'm not so thrilled over the fact that he couldn't close the match in 3 sets when he had the opportunity. Or that I had to switch off the TV at 5 -4 Baghdatis in the 4th set. I swear, I just couldn't take the strain. It reminded me of the old days watching Bjorn Borg rally from the baseline for his historic 5 consecutive Wimbledon wins. Anyway, cortisone on, Andre.

In other news, seems like a British movie was made depicting the assassination of G.W. Can't wait till The Daily Show gets a hold of this.

Two Great Dames and a Shiney Pate

It's that time of year when you hear the pitter patter of little feet. No, not back to school time but the US Open. Tennis that is - with the gentle patter of ball people as they retreive bouncy lime spheres for the best in tennis. Much going on this year. The home of the U.S. Open was renamed the USTA Billie Jean King National Tennis Center. She accepted the honors with the wry comment, "Women didn't always get treated this way." While Billie Jean had her day, Martina Navratilova announced this will be her final appearance at the Open at the prime age of 50.

Adding even more sentimental fuel is Andre Agassi. The wild-haired boy has transformed into a shiney-pated father with a spiritual bent and a vociferous New York fan base. He will be ending his 21 year career at the US Open, the first grand slam title he ever captured. Agassi has always been an easy guy to root for, flamboyant on the court, gracious to opponents and audiences alike. I mean, how can you not like a guy that bestows the soulful Namaste to his fans after every win? After his epic classic showdown with James Blake at last year's Open, and the more somber loss to Raphael Nadal at Wimbledon, Andre's finally calling it quits. Referring to his troublesome back which seizes up at the most inopportune moments. Like last year's final with Roger Federer. While Agassi bids tennis a tearful farewell the newly acknowledged couple of Maria Sharapova and Andy Roddick storm Flushing with with long limbs and vicious first serves. Oh that Ernesto dwindles into a mere storm for the weekend.

Pluto Demoted

What's a planet to do? Apparently the folks at the International Astronomical Union stripped Pluto of it's planetary status held since its discovery in 1930. How does one un-do a planet? What of all the books on Pluto as the 9th planet. More importantly, what happens to the zodiacal sign of Scorpio which is ruled by Pluto? Although it takes this tiny "dwarf planet" 248 years to complete its cycle around the zodiac, this planet (pardon me, EX planet) packs one hell of a wallop. During it's transit within a sign, (anywhere from 12 to 31 years!) this planet drills transformation, rebirth & regeneration. A word often associated with Pluto is Transcendence. But you can not hold on to that which is comfortable while transcending. Everything known will be obliterated. Only after the death of the old self can the new emerge. And Pluto takes charge of soul transformation. Or it used it. I wonder who's gonna rule Scorpio, or the 8th House (House of Sex & Relationships) for that matter now that little ole Pluto has gone by the way of ex-planets.

In the Beginning

In my next life I want to be a dog. Seriously. Velvety ears, a lithe body, daily feedings and somebody to love. What could be better? One of the best quotes I've ever heard is attributed to Mary Baker Eddy of all people: Prayer is Destiny. That which you manifest is that which you become. Marvelous. Simply splendid.

Several years ago I changed my computer password to disciplined destiny. It did wonders for my workday. Simply stating that I would be disciplined about seeking my destiny gave new freedom to my work, my daily efforts, myself. So as I go about the task of shaping and deciding my destiny I will share these exploits, these successes for that is what I chose them to be. Onward ho.