... very different yet comfortingly the same. This is the place to make life-long friends.
And you don't even have to say 'please.'
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Friday, December 18, 2009
Holiday Celebrations Around the World ...
Bethlehem gets first Christmas rock concert: http://bit.ly/6rsXgg
Sorrento, Italy celebrates!
Season's Greetings from One Dam Good Bier! Rock the holidays in Amsterdam. Well, virtually. Turn on Amstel Light's radio station on Pandora.
Seoul-style celebrating in Korea:
Cincinnati, Ohio: ice skating on Fountain Square...
Rockefeller Center, New York City!
Sorrento, Italy celebrates!
Season's Greetings from One Dam Good Bier! Rock the holidays in Amsterdam. Well, virtually. Turn on Amstel Light's radio station on Pandora.
Seoul-style celebrating in Korea:
Cincinnati, Ohio: ice skating on Fountain Square...
Rockefeller Center, New York City!
Happy Holidays!
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Exploring Panama
Panama.
A country I admittedly have had no desire to visit other than to have my feet in every country on the planet before I pass. The canal has never been a draw for me even when others have used it as a ploy to lure me into saying how much I wanted to explore Panama.
So, needless to say, when dear friends broke our rule that whenever we move it must be to a great place for others to visit, I was not enticed to quickly hop on a plane and get down there. And then, I received a message from Beckie inviting me to Nelson’s surprise 40th birthday party. A celebration of any kind with Nelson & Beckie will always have me booking flights immediately. But, Nelson’s 40th? Nothing could keep me away from celebrating the life of my dear friend. And thus, I began to get excited about visiting Panama.
Exploring cities has also never been a big draw for me unless I have a chance to venture out and explore the rest of the country, its people, its culture. I immediately began to see what I should explore, beyond Panama City, knowing Nelson & Beckie would most likely join me as they’re adventurers as well. A friend of mine has an island and an eco-B&B in the Bocas del Toro province of the Panama Caribbean region. But due to the fact Nelson & Beckie had already booked a weekend away from the baby, and my trip was a short 5-days, I opted to join them at the nearby resort. I could use a relaxed few days at a beach ~ I’d been too stressed of late. And, this would give me more time with little Diego and Nelson’s parents, Sarita and Nelson.
The party was a complete success! Beckie did an amazing job surprising Nelson. It was a lovely evening on the poolside terrace, overlooking the water, half-moon in the night sky, white candles outlined the edge of the pool, and latin music playing in the background. Friends, family, and colleagues gathered in cocktail dresses and stylish suits. Out on the water, not too far away, a line of lights was forming as ships queued to pass through the canal the next morning.
Driving around Panama City, I was surprised by how under-developed the city actually is ~ although, there is construction everywhere. And I do mean everywhere. The majority of the city’s skyline is under construction. Luxury highrise apartments are going up in areas where the expats reside. And nearby is the old area of the city where the buildings are occupied by squatters. A rough-looking area, but one that I would be comfortable strolling the main streets during the day. The streets were lined with shop owners peddling their wares from tables on the sidewalks to tourists sporting Panama hats and flip flops. Very picturesque from my point of view. Very difficult, and what appeared to be hopeless, from the other. My heart breaks when I think how it would be to live there.
Beckie and I headed to the canal. It was mesmerizing! I must admit, I did get a little carried away with my blackberry video, and even began giving commentary to the tune of Rick Steves. I get it now. Truly, the canal is something everyone should see…or cruise through. Words cannot fully explain it, so check it out for yourself.
Early the next morning, I check into the Intercontinental Playa Bonita Resort & Spa and head to the spa for a wonderful coconut-almond massage, exfoliation, and moisturizing bubble bath. It was heaven. The services at The Bonita del Mar Spa are superb, and the spa itself is very zen. Their broad services range from saunas, Turkish baths, meditation rooms, to many types of massages and skin/body treatments. For some reason, I seemed to walk ever so li
ghtly when walking through the halls.
I spent the rest of the day at the eternity pool, either poolside or at what became my favorite thinking place…the spot where the water from the pool spilled over and sea took over. Looking out across the water, memories of Venezuela came flooding back as the islands off in the distance reminded me of where I completed my open water scuba dive. I must scuba again soon.
That evening, I was to meet Nelson and his family, along with our friend Ivania, at a restaurant in Casco Antiguo (also known as Casco Viejo), Panama City’s old quarter. Over the next few years, Casco Antiguo will resemble Old San Juan in Puerto Rico. It has almost a thousand historic buildings spanning Spanish colonial dungeons and churches to century-old French and American townhomes featuring wrought-iron around their balconies. The streets are narrow and the plazas cobbled. You can almost see the conquistadors, missionaries, engineers, money-launderers and spies who have all participated in the history here. But for now, many of the buildings are old and dilapidated, many in need of paint, and a few still display their scars from the US invasion of Panama when Noriega was seized.
The hotel provided their driver to take me to where I would meet my friends. The gentleman asked which way I preferred, the long way which takes me back into Panama City then double back into Casco Antiguo, or the short way which goes through a very bad neighborhood? Of course we took the way through the very bad neighborhood! Not because it was the shorter path, but because I want to experience all aspects of the countries I visit. Indeed the area was very poor. Driving through narrow streets in our black SUV with black windows, I felt a bit like Harrison Ford in Clear & Present Danger, only with the added eeriness from the pitch black night. We were stopped at several intersections by military police who checked the driver’s papers, shined their light at me in the back seat, walked around to my window to check my passport. “Americana, si?” “Si, Americana. Muchas Gracias.”
Ego y Narisco is a highly impressive restaurant on Plaza Bolivar. Upon stepping inside the restaurant there is a moment of surprise as you realize this is quite a sophisticated, and hip, establishment. The décor is lovely, and the staff of very attractive Panamanian men and women are very friendly. We sat outside on the plaza under an umbrella and had delicious martinis, and scrumptious tapas.
Around the corner is Bar Platea, located on the ground floor of a colonial town house. This bar/club is cozy, dark, and is reminiscent of a speakeasy. The waiters are large, handsome, Panamanian men who all sport the traditional Panamanian hat. Promptly at 10pm, what I had been told was the best salsa band in all of Panama began to play. They were fantastic! I just wish I could remember their name.
The next few days were spent at the resort with Nelson & Beckie. Morning yoga on the beach. Reading poolside. Catching up with my friends. I have never relaxed so much, so quickly.
And I cannot wait to go back,
to Panama.
A country I admittedly have had no desire to visit other than to have my feet in every country on the planet before I pass. The canal has never been a draw for me even when others have used it as a ploy to lure me into saying how much I wanted to explore Panama.
So, needless to say, when dear friends broke our rule that whenever we move it must be to a great place for others to visit, I was not enticed to quickly hop on a plane and get down there. And then, I received a message from Beckie inviting me to Nelson’s surprise 40th birthday party. A celebration of any kind with Nelson & Beckie will always have me booking flights immediately. But, Nelson’s 40th? Nothing could keep me away from celebrating the life of my dear friend. And thus, I began to get excited about visiting Panama.
Exploring cities has also never been a big draw for me unless I have a chance to venture out and explore the rest of the country, its people, its culture. I immediately began to see what I should explore, beyond Panama City, knowing Nelson & Beckie would most likely join me as they’re adventurers as well. A friend of mine has an island and an eco-B&B in the Bocas del Toro province of the Panama Caribbean region. But due to the fact Nelson & Beckie had already booked a weekend away from the baby, and my trip was a short 5-days, I opted to join them at the nearby resort. I could use a relaxed few days at a beach ~ I’d been too stressed of late. And, this would give me more time with little Diego and Nelson’s parents, Sarita and Nelson.
The party was a complete success! Beckie did an amazing job surprising Nelson. It was a lovely evening on the poolside terrace, overlooking the water, half-moon in the night sky, white candles outlined the edge of the pool, and latin music playing in the background. Friends, family, and colleagues gathered in cocktail dresses and stylish suits. Out on the water, not too far away, a line of lights was forming as ships queued to pass through the canal the next morning.
As Nelson worked the next few days, I spent time with Beckie, little Diego, Nelson Sr. & Sarita. We had a lovely lunch on the water and watched the ships as they moved closer to the canal.
Driving around Panama City, I was surprised by how under-developed the city actually is ~ although, there is construction everywhere. And I do mean everywhere. The majority of the city’s skyline is under construction. Luxury highrise apartments are going up in areas where the expats reside. And nearby is the old area of the city where the buildings are occupied by squatters. A rough-looking area, but one that I would be comfortable strolling the main streets during the day. The streets were lined with shop owners peddling their wares from tables on the sidewalks to tourists sporting Panama hats and flip flops. Very picturesque from my point of view. Very difficult, and what appeared to be hopeless, from the other. My heart breaks when I think how it would be to live there.
Beckie and I headed to the canal. It was mesmerizing! I must admit, I did get a little carried away with my blackberry video, and even began giving commentary to the tune of Rick Steves. I get it now. Truly, the canal is something everyone should see…or cruise through. Words cannot fully explain it, so check it out for yourself.
Early the next morning, I check into the Intercontinental Playa Bonita Resort & Spa and head to the spa for a wonderful coconut-almond massage, exfoliation, and moisturizing bubble bath. It was heaven. The services at The Bonita del Mar Spa are superb, and the spa itself is very zen. Their broad services range from saunas, Turkish baths, meditation rooms, to many types of massages and skin/body treatments. For some reason, I seemed to walk ever so li
ghtly when walking through the halls.I spent the rest of the day at the eternity pool, either poolside or at what became my favorite thinking place…the spot where the water from the pool spilled over and sea took over. Looking out across the water, memories of Venezuela came flooding back as the islands off in the distance reminded me of where I completed my open water scuba dive. I must scuba again soon.
That evening, I was to meet Nelson and his family, along with our friend Ivania, at a restaurant in Casco Antiguo (also known as Casco Viejo), Panama City’s old quarter. Over the next few years, Casco Antiguo will resemble Old San Juan in Puerto Rico. It has almost a thousand historic buildings spanning Spanish colonial dungeons and churches to century-old French and American townhomes featuring wrought-iron around their balconies. The streets are narrow and the plazas cobbled. You can almost see the conquistadors, missionaries, engineers, money-launderers and spies who have all participated in the history here. But for now, many of the buildings are old and dilapidated, many in need of paint, and a few still display their scars from the US invasion of Panama when Noriega was seized.
The hotel provided their driver to take me to where I would meet my friends. The gentleman asked which way I preferred, the long way which takes me back into Panama City then double back into Casco Antiguo, or the short way which goes through a very bad neighborhood? Of course we took the way through the very bad neighborhood! Not because it was the shorter path, but because I want to experience all aspects of the countries I visit. Indeed the area was very poor. Driving through narrow streets in our black SUV with black windows, I felt a bit like Harrison Ford in Clear & Present Danger, only with the added eeriness from the pitch black night. We were stopped at several intersections by military police who checked the driver’s papers, shined their light at me in the back seat, walked around to my window to check my passport. “Americana, si?” “Si, Americana. Muchas Gracias.”
Ego y Narisco is a highly impressive restaurant on Plaza Bolivar. Upon stepping inside the restaurant there is a moment of surprise as you realize this is quite a sophisticated, and hip, establishment. The décor is lovely, and the staff of very attractive Panamanian men and women are very friendly. We sat outside on the plaza under an umbrella and had delicious martinis, and scrumptious tapas.
Around the corner is Bar Platea, located on the ground floor of a colonial town house. This bar/club is cozy, dark, and is reminiscent of a speakeasy. The waiters are large, handsome, Panamanian men who all sport the traditional Panamanian hat. Promptly at 10pm, what I had been told was the best salsa band in all of Panama began to play. They were fantastic! I just wish I could remember their name.
The next few days were spent at the resort with Nelson & Beckie. Morning yoga on the beach. Reading poolside. Catching up with my friends. I have never relaxed so much, so quickly.
And I cannot wait to go back,
to Panama.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
coming soon ...
Watch for future entries sharing some recent explorations ...
- (more) Jazz in NYC
- The Breslin Bar & Dining Room
- Felidia Italian restaurant
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Cafe Carlyle: Pizzarelli & Molaskey
John Pizzarelli.
Say his name and I'm immediately smiling.
I was introduced to John's music about five years ago and fell in love with it immediately. Son of 'Bucky' Pizzarelli, American jazz guitarist and banjoist, he is himself an amazing jazz guitarist.
When I moved to New York City almost four years ago, I passed on the opportunity to hear John play at Lincoln Center. In the summer of the same year, I skipped out of the office early to ensure I was able to get good seats to hear John play at the River-to-River festival. His performance was fantastic.
Opening for John at that River-to-River festival was a woman I had never heard of, but of whom I'm now a fan. Paula West. Paula's voice is powerful, rhythmic, and captivating. Several times since that concert, I have sought out the opportunity to hear Paula perform again. Evidently, she plays The Oak Room, here in NYC, two weeks every fall. And every year I remember a week after the show closed. Paula is now performing at The Oak Room until Saturday, November 14. And yes, I will juggle my schedule so that I can get to her performance.
Two nights ago, I was catching up with an old friend who loves jazz. I mentioned Paula's current appearance in the city. Of course, in mentioning Paul, John Pizzarelli's name came up and I was surprised to learn my friend had not heard of John P. Calling it a night, we strolled past The Carlyle and decided to go in for a nightcap. As soon as we stepped into the lobby, I was bouncing! There on the board was "John Pizzarelli & Jessica Molaskey" performing October 13 to November 7.
I was so excited and overjoyed. We waited fourty-five minutes for the beginning of the next show and ... it was fabulous!! I had never heard John's wife, Jessica Molaskey, perform. She has a very smooth, lovely voice. Together, they are a delight.
If you ever get the chance, it's a fun evening with friends ... or it can be a very romantic evening. You choose. But whatever you do, you must hear John Pizzarelli perform!
http://tinyurl.com/yfkxdkf
(my apologies for the quick posts of late. life has been busy. look for my upcoming post about my recent wanderings...and findings...in Panama.)
Say his name and I'm immediately smiling.
I was introduced to John's music about five years ago and fell in love with it immediately. Son of 'Bucky' Pizzarelli, American jazz guitarist and banjoist, he is himself an amazing jazz guitarist.
When I moved to New York City almost four years ago, I passed on the opportunity to hear John play at Lincoln Center. In the summer of the same year, I skipped out of the office early to ensure I was able to get good seats to hear John play at the River-to-River festival. His performance was fantastic.
Opening for John at that River-to-River festival was a woman I had never heard of, but of whom I'm now a fan. Paula West. Paula's voice is powerful, rhythmic, and captivating. Several times since that concert, I have sought out the opportunity to hear Paula perform again. Evidently, she plays The Oak Room, here in NYC, two weeks every fall. And every year I remember a week after the show closed. Paula is now performing at The Oak Room until Saturday, November 14. And yes, I will juggle my schedule so that I can get to her performance.
Two nights ago, I was catching up with an old friend who loves jazz. I mentioned Paula's current appearance in the city. Of course, in mentioning Paul, John Pizzarelli's name came up and I was surprised to learn my friend had not heard of John P. Calling it a night, we strolled past The Carlyle and decided to go in for a nightcap. As soon as we stepped into the lobby, I was bouncing! There on the board was "John Pizzarelli & Jessica Molaskey" performing October 13 to November 7.
I was so excited and overjoyed. We waited fourty-five minutes for the beginning of the next show and ... it was fabulous!! I had never heard John's wife, Jessica Molaskey, perform. She has a very smooth, lovely voice. Together, they are a delight.
If you ever get the chance, it's a fun evening with friends ... or it can be a very romantic evening. You choose. But whatever you do, you must hear John Pizzarelli perform!
http://tinyurl.com/yfkxdkf
(my apologies for the quick posts of late. life has been busy. look for my upcoming post about my recent wanderings...and findings...in Panama.)
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Strong, Beautiful, Sensual, Delight: 4x4 Deborah Colker's Companhia de Danca
The most amazing dance performance. Since ten minutes into last night's performance at NY City Center, I have been ... speechless ...
And as everyone who knows me knows, rarely am I rendered speechless.
Performances here in NYC have finished, but this is definitely worth traveling for because ...
still speechless ... http://tinyurl.com/y9dne7h
And as everyone who knows me knows, rarely am I rendered speechless.
Performances here in NYC have finished, but this is definitely worth traveling for because ...
still speechless ... http://tinyurl.com/y9dne7h
Monday, October 19, 2009
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Should Love Have an Age?
This has been a topic much discussed of late, at least in my various circles, and I find it quite interesting. I'll admit part of my interest comes from the fact that I'll be leading a small group for my church next month on the topic of relationships. And yes, there is an age range for the group, 26-99.
Society has always supported the notion that a man is supposed to be older than the woman in a relationship. And, has accepted, although with whispers, when a man dates a much younger woman. Neither of these are new to us.
In more conservative areas of the world, and of the US, this remains the typical viewpoint. I'm surprised to find so many here in New York City, New...York...City, still hold to that traditional view. Looking across cultures, here's what I've found, to-date: the British tend to hold to having the man be older (although most Brits I've seen tend to stick very close to their own age); Western Europeans are more concerned with who you are and whether there's chemistry (age and profession may never arise in conversation); and, in South America age doesn't seem to be as relevant (although my exposure across those countries is limited).
Personally, I applaud the Europeans. I admit that I'm guilty of it myself, but I think the notion of our profession and our age defining us is ludicrous. Think about it, here in the US the first question asked whenever you meet someone new is "What do you do?" Seriously? Truly? Is this how we want to be defined? Is this how we want to see others? I would much rather learn what someone is passionate about and their views on life.
Back to love and age ...
The other night, I was chatting with a woman who is 29 and was on a date with someone when she learned of his age, 23. Immediately she put him in the 'no' category. I believe her age range is 27-40. Another woman with us that same evening is 23 and saw no issue with the former woman dating the 23 year old.
Back home, in Cincinnati, I have a very intelligent and politically-savvy friend who refused to even consider accepting a date with a man who was younger, even by only 2 years. We all thought she was crazy because, as (almost) everyone knows, 2 years falls into the 'same age' category. She's now happily married to a man 10 years her junior. She was 40 when she married.
Another friend of mine is 66 and he has been married for 15 years to someone 20 years younger. They love each other very much and have a great life together.
And, an acquaintance of mine is a lovely 37 year old woman who is smart, successful, full of life, and about to marry a man who is 27 years old and without a job. Could you do this? Could I?
Cougars and what used to be referred to as 'Dirty Old Men'...
I hate this new term, Cougar. We don't have a cultural term for older men who date much younger women. Why is it any different for an older woman to date a younger man?
My despise of the term has nothing to do with my gender nor my age. Rather, it has everything to do with putting a negative label on something that should not even be a topic of discussion for acceptance or unacceptance. I despise the term because it perpetuates an unhealthy stereotype.
We each decide what is best for us and with what we are the most comfortable. We are all formed by our familial environment, life experiences, and greatly by our cultural environment. But why are we still judgmental and unaccepting of something different from society's norm?
Keeping it real by getting personal ...
I have always been attracted to older men...even as a young girl. In fact, I'm probably the one woman who never thought George Clooney was attractive in the slightest. He was too cutsey. But now that he has begun to age, omg, he is very handsome! (And yes, Jerry, the man I was married to, is an older man.)
All of that said, I don't believe age matters. I'm a firm believer that life-stage is what's important.
I've dated men as much as 16 years older than me. And I've dated men as young as 13 years younger. If you want to look at age, that range is rather large. Jim, who is 16 years older, is very young-at-heart without sacrificing emotional maturity. Cesar, who is 13 years younger, is very mature. In fact, initially I thought he was only 7 years younger. And yes, I did fall in love with Cesar. Surprisingly, my Midwestern, conversative parents liked him and told me they were supportive if I decided to marry him. What I decided was that I didn't want to hold him back from having the 'normal' life experiences of his age group, so I walked away. Friends accused me of making his decision for him. I didn't see it that way...then. A year later, he invited me to his wedding. He married an older woman.
Changing the conversation...
In order to initiate and cause change, we must first change the conversation. Peter Block has an excellent book about change: The Answer to How Is Yes: Acting on What Matters. Granted, it is directed at changing corporate and cultural landscapes, but his principles apply here. After all, love and age are part of our cultural landscape.
Here are a few questions we may want to ask ourselves, and each other, to start changing the conversation:
Society has always supported the notion that a man is supposed to be older than the woman in a relationship. And, has accepted, although with whispers, when a man dates a much younger woman. Neither of these are new to us.
In more conservative areas of the world, and of the US, this remains the typical viewpoint. I'm surprised to find so many here in New York City, New...York...City, still hold to that traditional view. Looking across cultures, here's what I've found, to-date: the British tend to hold to having the man be older (although most Brits I've seen tend to stick very close to their own age); Western Europeans are more concerned with who you are and whether there's chemistry (age and profession may never arise in conversation); and, in South America age doesn't seem to be as relevant (although my exposure across those countries is limited).
Personally, I applaud the Europeans. I admit that I'm guilty of it myself, but I think the notion of our profession and our age defining us is ludicrous. Think about it, here in the US the first question asked whenever you meet someone new is "What do you do?" Seriously? Truly? Is this how we want to be defined? Is this how we want to see others? I would much rather learn what someone is passionate about and their views on life.
Back to love and age ...
The other night, I was chatting with a woman who is 29 and was on a date with someone when she learned of his age, 23. Immediately she put him in the 'no' category. I believe her age range is 27-40. Another woman with us that same evening is 23 and saw no issue with the former woman dating the 23 year old.
Back home, in Cincinnati, I have a very intelligent and politically-savvy friend who refused to even consider accepting a date with a man who was younger, even by only 2 years. We all thought she was crazy because, as (almost) everyone knows, 2 years falls into the 'same age' category. She's now happily married to a man 10 years her junior. She was 40 when she married.
Another friend of mine is 66 and he has been married for 15 years to someone 20 years younger. They love each other very much and have a great life together.
And, an acquaintance of mine is a lovely 37 year old woman who is smart, successful, full of life, and about to marry a man who is 27 years old and without a job. Could you do this? Could I?
Cougars and what used to be referred to as 'Dirty Old Men'...
I hate this new term, Cougar. We don't have a cultural term for older men who date much younger women. Why is it any different for an older woman to date a younger man?
My despise of the term has nothing to do with my gender nor my age. Rather, it has everything to do with putting a negative label on something that should not even be a topic of discussion for acceptance or unacceptance. I despise the term because it perpetuates an unhealthy stereotype.
We each decide what is best for us and with what we are the most comfortable. We are all formed by our familial environment, life experiences, and greatly by our cultural environment. But why are we still judgmental and unaccepting of something different from society's norm?
Keeping it real by getting personal ...
I have always been attracted to older men...even as a young girl. In fact, I'm probably the one woman who never thought George Clooney was attractive in the slightest. He was too cutsey. But now that he has begun to age, omg, he is very handsome! (And yes, Jerry, the man I was married to, is an older man.)
All of that said, I don't believe age matters. I'm a firm believer that life-stage is what's important.
I've dated men as much as 16 years older than me. And I've dated men as young as 13 years younger. If you want to look at age, that range is rather large. Jim, who is 16 years older, is very young-at-heart without sacrificing emotional maturity. Cesar, who is 13 years younger, is very mature. In fact, initially I thought he was only 7 years younger. And yes, I did fall in love with Cesar. Surprisingly, my Midwestern, conversative parents liked him and told me they were supportive if I decided to marry him. What I decided was that I didn't want to hold him back from having the 'normal' life experiences of his age group, so I walked away. Friends accused me of making his decision for him. I didn't see it that way...then. A year later, he invited me to his wedding. He married an older woman.
Changing the conversation...
In order to initiate and cause change, we must first change the conversation. Peter Block has an excellent book about change: The Answer to How Is Yes: Acting on What Matters. Granted, it is directed at changing corporate and cultural landscapes, but his principles apply here. After all, love and age are part of our cultural landscape.
Here are a few questions we may want to ask ourselves, and each other, to start changing the conversation:
- Is there a 'right and wrong' when it comes to love and age?
- Should I assign or use terms, and do they perpetuate stereotypes?
- If I wanted to, could I actually go against our societal norms?
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Wandering Stone Street ...
Stone Street, in the Financial District of Manhattan. I have always wanted to go and get lost in the ambiance that so many photos have captured. But, in my living of the every day, it somehow always seemed to be forgotten.
My friend Typhani recently began tending bar at the Stone Street Tavern. Tanvir, Amanda, and I decided to head down there last night to support her. Having been a while since I last heard about that area of the city, I didn't make the connection until I googled the tavern for its address. Stone Street!!
As I had a massage earlier, it took a while for me to convince myself to get in the shower and wash off the relaxing scent of bergamot. Which is my justification for why I ended up taking a cab downtown. And like all good NYC cabbies, mine couldn't figure out where to go once in the Financial District. I shared that it's the street that is full of tables with umbrellas, I was climbing out of the cab in minutes.
As I rounded the corner, I was immediately transported back to Italy. Ah, my Italia!
On this short block of narrow street, each doorway led to a new pub. Take your pick. They are lined up one after the other. The tables filling the streetway are packed with Wall Streeters, young girls admiringly chatting with male financiers, and friends meeting up. Everyone appears to have let go of the business day and are fully in the moment, enjoying life. Looking at their faces you can see sincere smiles and intense listening. Everyone has a brew in hand. Burgers and pasta and salads are the waiters' trays. Despite what might be happening in their daily lives, right now, life is good.
Isn't it amazing? A memory can be triggered so quickly and instantaneously you are where the memory was born. Movements slowed. Every one of my senses came to full bloom. I could hear only the accents of the Italians sitting at random tables along Stone Street. I could smell
Sorrento's southern, coastal air with the flavours of fresh Italian cooking from the restaurants as I walked along Via Santa Maria delle Grazie. Colours, people, smiles, waiters carrying drinks ... all continued to carry me. The freedom and joy I felt was the most pure joy I've ever experienced.
On this short block of narrow street, each doorway led to a new pub. Take your pick. They are lined up one after the other. The tables filling the streetway are packed with Wall Streeters, young girls admiringly chatting with male financiers, and friends meeting up. Everyone appears to have let go of the business day and are fully in the moment, enjoying life. Looking at their faces you can see sincere smiles and intense listening. Everyone has a brew in hand. Burgers and pasta and salads are the waiters' trays. Despite what might be happening in their daily lives, right now, life is good.Isn't it amazing? A memory can be triggered so quickly and instantaneously you are where the memory was born. Movements slowed. Every one of my senses came to full bloom. I could hear only the accents of the Italians sitting at random tables along Stone Street. I could smell
This.
This moment.
This is when I experienced my understanding of what life is truly about.
The moment when I began to live my life.
My foot lifted and as it slowly came down to rest on the threshold of the bar, life moved quickly again as I returned to Stone Street.
RECOMMENDATION: Stone Street Tavern www.stonestreettavernnyc.com
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Snares
Oh viper's snare catches me
tossing me to and fro.
Oh how clearly I can see,
but my heart doth blind me.
Oh viper's snare, how lovely.
Oh viper's snare doth catch me twice
blinding me by mine eyes.
Oh how clearly I can see,
but my heart doth blind me ...
maketh life a web of lies.
Oh viper's snare no more may hold.
My mind and will both so bold.
Oh how clearly I can see
the hold which grippeth no more of me.
My heart and mind and will my own,
casts aware snares like tiny stones.
-March 9, 2004; Cincinnati OH
tossing me to and fro.
Oh how clearly I can see,
but my heart doth blind me.
Oh viper's snare, how lovely.
Oh viper's snare doth catch me twice
blinding me by mine eyes.
Oh how clearly I can see,
but my heart doth blind me ...
maketh life a web of lies.
Oh viper's snare no more may hold.
My mind and will both so bold.
Oh how clearly I can see
the hold which grippeth no more of me.
My heart and mind and will my own,
casts aware snares like tiny stones.
-March 9, 2004; Cincinnati OH
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Contemplating Camelot ...
A friend recently described a period of time as 'Camelot.' What a perfect description. I agree with him completely ... that period of our lives was truly Camelot. Truly.
I find myself, now, looking back in my life for other periods of time which might be described as ... for whatever reason ... 'Camelot.'
Wandering ...
Contemplating ...
I find myself, now, looking back in my life for other periods of time which might be described as ... for whatever reason ... 'Camelot.'
Wandering ...
Contemplating ...
Saturday, May 30, 2009
EuroK's Photo Blog has moved!
I just realized that when MSN migrated my 'photo blog' last January, I forgot to update the link on this blog. The link is now correct. If you were a member of my previous site, you will need to rejoin this site as approved memberships did not transfer when the site was migrated My apologies!
So if you want to check out my adventures dating back to 2001, click the link on the right for "my photo blog."
Enjoy!
So if you want to check out my adventures dating back to 2001, click the link on the right for "my photo blog."
Enjoy!
Saturday, May 23, 2009
My Mind is Wandering to Several Friends ...
It's a lovely start to the Memorial Day weekend. I'm in my new apartment, unpacking, and am enjoying a few of the things in life that bring me the most joy: the sound of birds chirping, the way the breeze is blowing through my windows and rustling the leaves of my plants ... its coolness on my skin, the way the sunlight is luminating my apartment.
Putting away the contents of the last of the boxes, I came across my travel accessories. Sleep masks, cosmetic bags, adapters, ... , and the bag I take on international trips. This bag previously served as a briefcase/purse so it was always with me. It's the perfect bag for long flights and all day excursions as it works well with any outfit and is designed in a way that works for just about anything. The last time I used this bag was 6 years ago. As I went through the contents, memories came flooding back and my mind began to wander...
... the travel size deodorant, toothbrush, and cleansing cloths took me back to a beautiful summer day on the Amalfi Coast. Driving the coast line. Lunching in Priano. Sunbathing in Amalfi. Driving up the hillside to Ravello ... stopping, of course, at the pottery shop to say 'hello' to its owner who assisted me two years before when I had an accident on my rented Vespa. Cleaning up and changing into a little travel dress which had been neatly rolled and tucked in my bag next to my beach towel. The lights of the entire town going out in the middle of dinner. Jazz concert in the villa's ruins under the stars.
... a 24" x 18" piece of paper which, when not folded, displays a letter from my stepdaughter, Meagan Vogele. Each sentence in a different crayon color. She sent this to me when I moved with P&G and she was worried that I would be lonely. That was 1997. I miss her.
... a burgundy velour pouch containing two 'stones.' One, clear glass with different colored strokes leading from the outer edge to the center. The other, with half white and half black strokes. A gift for my sabbatical from Laurent Horvath. He promised I would learn their meaning as I traveled my journey. And learn, I did.
... a letter from Raven, a little girl from the inner city whom I tutored in math in 2004. She describes her Christmas, and tells me how "People be messing with me at school." The only way I was able to help Raven remember the multiplication table was for us to put our arms around each other and step only on every other tile of the church atrium floor while reciting equations. "One times one is ...", "one times two is ...", "one times three is ..." I wonder where Raven is now.
... a lovely poem cut from a greeting card and given to me by ... whom? I can't remember. "When you come to the edge of all the light you know, and are about to step off into the darkness of the unknown, faith is knowing one of two things will happen: there will be something solid to stand on or you will be taught how to fly." by Barbara J. Winter
... I smile. Another poem. This one is an email dated October 7, 1997 at 10:24 am. My birthday. A friend who worked down the hall from me in the Food & Beverage division of Procter & Gamble wrote a poem for me reminding me of many wonderful moments we all shared there in the office. WC ~ he knows who he is.
... an invitation to a Flying Pig Marathon party at Brad Frank's apartment to watch him run past. Breakfast, Bloody Marys, pajamas and lawn chairs provided. May 9th of what year? Be Frank With Me.
... May 3, 1994. A heart-shaped note paper with a message written in purple. I don't even have to read it to know that it's from Jillian Chamberlain. Always a friend. Always a sister. Always there. The most pure-hearted woman I have ever met (aside from my mother). Her note encourages me through the difficult time of deciding to leave my marriage.
... 2001, a card from Lori talking about the wonders of good girlfriends. That was a very special time in my life. I was blessed with a very close circle of friends who will forever be at the core of my heart: Natalie, Nelson, Lori, Deborah.
... a card from my parents just before I left for my European sabbatical in 2001. So special to me that I prefer to hold the reasons so close to my heart that I cannot share.
... lastly, a card with a lovely photo of a lone house off in the distance in the French countryside, and a long road leading up to it. The words inside are sweet, and its signed 'Sancho.' I cannot, for the life of me, remember who 'Sancho' is. I turned the card over and noticed I had written a date. June 14, 2003. Ah. Now I remember. And I also remember the last trip I used this bag was in July 2003. What I remember about the card and the trip are not the words, the moments, nor even Sancho. I remember a moment just before the trip ... I was walking away from the Hyde Park Blast street party with a friend, Steve S., who said, "You're dating the wrong Steve." And even though it was fear that kept me from verbally agreeing with him, we both knew he was right.
These treasures are being placed in my current bag. I hesitate when placing Sancho's card with my treasures, but decide to as a reminder not to allow fear to guide my choices.
Putting away the contents of the last of the boxes, I came across my travel accessories. Sleep masks, cosmetic bags, adapters, ... , and the bag I take on international trips. This bag previously served as a briefcase/purse so it was always with me. It's the perfect bag for long flights and all day excursions as it works well with any outfit and is designed in a way that works for just about anything. The last time I used this bag was 6 years ago. As I went through the contents, memories came flooding back and my mind began to wander...
... the travel size deodorant, toothbrush, and cleansing cloths took me back to a beautiful summer day on the Amalfi Coast. Driving the coast line. Lunching in Priano. Sunbathing in Amalfi. Driving up the hillside to Ravello ... stopping, of course, at the pottery shop to say 'hello' to its owner who assisted me two years before when I had an accident on my rented Vespa. Cleaning up and changing into a little travel dress which had been neatly rolled and tucked in my bag next to my beach towel. The lights of the entire town going out in the middle of dinner. Jazz concert in the villa's ruins under the stars.
... a 24" x 18" piece of paper which, when not folded, displays a letter from my stepdaughter, Meagan Vogele. Each sentence in a different crayon color. She sent this to me when I moved with P&G and she was worried that I would be lonely. That was 1997. I miss her.
... a burgundy velour pouch containing two 'stones.' One, clear glass with different colored strokes leading from the outer edge to the center. The other, with half white and half black strokes. A gift for my sabbatical from Laurent Horvath. He promised I would learn their meaning as I traveled my journey. And learn, I did.
... a letter from Raven, a little girl from the inner city whom I tutored in math in 2004. She describes her Christmas, and tells me how "People be messing with me at school." The only way I was able to help Raven remember the multiplication table was for us to put our arms around each other and step only on every other tile of the church atrium floor while reciting equations. "One times one is ...", "one times two is ...", "one times three is ..." I wonder where Raven is now.
... a lovely poem cut from a greeting card and given to me by ... whom? I can't remember. "When you come to the edge of all the light you know, and are about to step off into the darkness of the unknown, faith is knowing one of two things will happen: there will be something solid to stand on or you will be taught how to fly." by Barbara J. Winter
... I smile. Another poem. This one is an email dated October 7, 1997 at 10:24 am. My birthday. A friend who worked down the hall from me in the Food & Beverage division of Procter & Gamble wrote a poem for me reminding me of many wonderful moments we all shared there in the office. WC ~ he knows who he is.
... an invitation to a Flying Pig Marathon party at Brad Frank's apartment to watch him run past. Breakfast, Bloody Marys, pajamas and lawn chairs provided. May 9th of what year? Be Frank With Me.
... May 3, 1994. A heart-shaped note paper with a message written in purple. I don't even have to read it to know that it's from Jillian Chamberlain. Always a friend. Always a sister. Always there. The most pure-hearted woman I have ever met (aside from my mother). Her note encourages me through the difficult time of deciding to leave my marriage.
... 2001, a card from Lori talking about the wonders of good girlfriends. That was a very special time in my life. I was blessed with a very close circle of friends who will forever be at the core of my heart: Natalie, Nelson, Lori, Deborah.
... a card from my parents just before I left for my European sabbatical in 2001. So special to me that I prefer to hold the reasons so close to my heart that I cannot share.
... lastly, a card with a lovely photo of a lone house off in the distance in the French countryside, and a long road leading up to it. The words inside are sweet, and its signed 'Sancho.' I cannot, for the life of me, remember who 'Sancho' is. I turned the card over and noticed I had written a date. June 14, 2003. Ah. Now I remember. And I also remember the last trip I used this bag was in July 2003. What I remember about the card and the trip are not the words, the moments, nor even Sancho. I remember a moment just before the trip ... I was walking away from the Hyde Park Blast street party with a friend, Steve S., who said, "You're dating the wrong Steve." And even though it was fear that kept me from verbally agreeing with him, we both knew he was right.
These treasures are being placed in my current bag. I hesitate when placing Sancho's card with my treasures, but decide to as a reminder not to allow fear to guide my choices.
Delta Air Lines Loses Its Last Loyal Customer!
For years I've defended Delta Air Lines and my extreme loyalty to them. They have now pushed me over the edge and I'm searching for a new airline to love and adore! The winner will receive my undying love and devotion, and I'll transfer my Platinum Delta American Express account to them.
I'm a classic loyalist. When I find something I enjoy and that works for me, I will never change until I'm forced...and you will never get me back again. I want products and services that make my life simple so that I can spend my attention and energy on living life.
Delta began to make my life more difficult several years ago. Sadly, my patience and loyalty to them far exceeded their loyalty to me...
My relationship with Delta began about 24 years ago. Living and working in Cincinnati, where Delta was a hub, they were the preferred airline of the company I worked for. Whenever flights didn't match my schedule, I'd defer to American, United or US Air. But I loved the service I received from Delta and the others always failed me.
Over the years, I heard more and more complaints about Delta being "the worst airline." I would quickly defend them and share stories of the exceptional service I always received. Stories of Delta going above and beyond for me. My friends had never heard of such service from Delta and were amazed. Post 9/11, the level of service I received started to slip. But I dismissed any issues as the industry was struggling. I was willing to accept lesser service for the great good of keeping Delta and the industry alive. (Seriously, I would actually say that. I was even waiting for the first post 9/11 Delta international flight to be announced ... I would be on that plane refusing to let the bad guys win.)
Three years ago I moved to New York City, and Delta's service slipped even more. I realized I wasn't in Cincinnati anymore. With each encounter, my patience and opinion of Delta Air Lines has lessened. A few months ago, I took a trip home to Cincinnati. It was a nightmare. Issues with online booking led to customer service telling me they were having issues with their software system and I would have to go to the airport to book my ticket. When I asked if it made sense for me to spend 2-3 hours of my time plus $75 in cab fares to do that, they simply said that was the only way they could help me. Instead, I called back the next day and the customer service representative was able to book the ticket...with a fee double what the online reservation had quoted, plus a baggage fee. When I questioned the baggage fee as I had medallion status, I was told to work it out at the airport. When I arrived at the airport on the day of my flight, I was surprised to learn I had lost my medallion status which was the reason I had been charged for baggage. I asked why I hadn't been notified. In the past, if I came even remotely close to losing my medallion status, I would receive an email advising me well in advance allowing me time to book flights (and yes, I'll take additional trips just to stay medallion). Then, to top it off, they couldn't see in their system that I had already paid the baggage fee so they charged me again instructing me to work it out when it showed up on my Platinum Delta American Express statement.
It gets better. My Sunday night return flight was delayed...and delayed...and delayed. I'm quite surprised to say that my text alerts came through so I didn't have to wait around at the airport but was able to have 2 more hours with my parents. When I checked my bags at the airport, for yet another $40, I knew something was up when the woman at the counter got on her walkie-talkie to advise someone that there were "2 more bags." I wasn't late for the flight, so I knew I was in for some additional Delta-Drama. When I arrived at the gate, there was my entire flight...seats were full, people were pacing, others were sitting or sleeping all over the floor. This did not look good. I spent the next 2 hours sitting on the floor. I was 99% certain this was it for my relationship with Delta. When I arrived in NY, at 1:30am, I realized there must have been a 'software issue' with that walkie-talkie. Yep. My bags did not arrive. 99.5% certain now.
The letter I received from Delta began each paragraph with "We apologize for any inconvenience...", "I am sorry for your disappointment...", "Please accept my apology..." But hey, they gave me a $75 ecredit voucher! Wow.
The Final Straw:
Earlier this week, I booked a Delta frequent flyer ticket for my niece to visit me this summer. As she is under 15 years old and will be traveling unaccompanied, there is a $100 fee per flight leg. (This is standard on all airlines.) This is an airport fee so I was told to pay the person at the Delta counter at each airport. I wanted to pay it now so that her parents wouldn't have to pay it. No problem, Ms. Burke, there will be an additional $100 fee in order for you to do that.
You have got to be kidding me.
100%!!
DELTA IS THE WORST AIRLINE!
Now accepting recommendations for a new airline partner...
I'm a classic loyalist. When I find something I enjoy and that works for me, I will never change until I'm forced...and you will never get me back again. I want products and services that make my life simple so that I can spend my attention and energy on living life.
Delta began to make my life more difficult several years ago. Sadly, my patience and loyalty to them far exceeded their loyalty to me...
My relationship with Delta began about 24 years ago. Living and working in Cincinnati, where Delta was a hub, they were the preferred airline of the company I worked for. Whenever flights didn't match my schedule, I'd defer to American, United or US Air. But I loved the service I received from Delta and the others always failed me.
Over the years, I heard more and more complaints about Delta being "the worst airline." I would quickly defend them and share stories of the exceptional service I always received. Stories of Delta going above and beyond for me. My friends had never heard of such service from Delta and were amazed. Post 9/11, the level of service I received started to slip. But I dismissed any issues as the industry was struggling. I was willing to accept lesser service for the great good of keeping Delta and the industry alive. (Seriously, I would actually say that. I was even waiting for the first post 9/11 Delta international flight to be announced ... I would be on that plane refusing to let the bad guys win.)
Three years ago I moved to New York City, and Delta's service slipped even more. I realized I wasn't in Cincinnati anymore. With each encounter, my patience and opinion of Delta Air Lines has lessened. A few months ago, I took a trip home to Cincinnati. It was a nightmare. Issues with online booking led to customer service telling me they were having issues with their software system and I would have to go to the airport to book my ticket. When I asked if it made sense for me to spend 2-3 hours of my time plus $75 in cab fares to do that, they simply said that was the only way they could help me. Instead, I called back the next day and the customer service representative was able to book the ticket...with a fee double what the online reservation had quoted, plus a baggage fee. When I questioned the baggage fee as I had medallion status, I was told to work it out at the airport. When I arrived at the airport on the day of my flight, I was surprised to learn I had lost my medallion status which was the reason I had been charged for baggage. I asked why I hadn't been notified. In the past, if I came even remotely close to losing my medallion status, I would receive an email advising me well in advance allowing me time to book flights (and yes, I'll take additional trips just to stay medallion). Then, to top it off, they couldn't see in their system that I had already paid the baggage fee so they charged me again instructing me to work it out when it showed up on my Platinum Delta American Express statement.
It gets better. My Sunday night return flight was delayed...and delayed...and delayed. I'm quite surprised to say that my text alerts came through so I didn't have to wait around at the airport but was able to have 2 more hours with my parents. When I checked my bags at the airport, for yet another $40, I knew something was up when the woman at the counter got on her walkie-talkie to advise someone that there were "2 more bags." I wasn't late for the flight, so I knew I was in for some additional Delta-Drama. When I arrived at the gate, there was my entire flight...seats were full, people were pacing, others were sitting or sleeping all over the floor. This did not look good. I spent the next 2 hours sitting on the floor. I was 99% certain this was it for my relationship with Delta. When I arrived in NY, at 1:30am, I realized there must have been a 'software issue' with that walkie-talkie. Yep. My bags did not arrive. 99.5% certain now.
The letter I received from Delta began each paragraph with "We apologize for any inconvenience...", "I am sorry for your disappointment...", "Please accept my apology..." But hey, they gave me a $75 ecredit voucher! Wow.
The Final Straw:
Earlier this week, I booked a Delta frequent flyer ticket for my niece to visit me this summer. As she is under 15 years old and will be traveling unaccompanied, there is a $100 fee per flight leg. (This is standard on all airlines.) This is an airport fee so I was told to pay the person at the Delta counter at each airport. I wanted to pay it now so that her parents wouldn't have to pay it. No problem, Ms. Burke, there will be an additional $100 fee in order for you to do that.
You have got to be kidding me.
100%!!
DELTA IS THE WORST AIRLINE!
Now accepting recommendations for a new airline partner...
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Deserved Diva Patti LuPone Stops Show & Has Audience Member Thrown Out ~ Deservedly?
Last night, I attended the evening performance of Gypsy. Patti LuPone angrily stopped her performance to berate and remove an audience member who took three, according to Patti, photos. Announcements before the performance and during intermission had specifically communicated that no photos were permitted. Patti's anger was intense and so was the berating.
I had my own pov, of course, but wanted to hear the thoughts of others, both in attendance and not, before sharing my own...
- Sophia, an actress friend of mine, was appalled as her perspective is "The first thing you learn is that, regardless, the show always must go on."
-another friend involved in Broadway shows wasn't surprised given Patti's reputation of being over-the-top in her diva-ness. But he also thought she was completely out of line (even after giving her the benefit of the doubt that this has possibly been a continuous issue during the production).
-several friends in the business world shared the perspective that "we don't know what's happened in that theatre" (what she's had to put up with throughout the production) and that her actions could very well be justified.
-a very few felt nothing justified her behavior.
Interesting, the range of pov's and considerations given their fields.
I was curious to see whether I would hear any viewpoint(s) compelling enough to alter my own perspective. I didn't. Below are my thoughts on the situation:
-I give Patti credit for her singing talents. Wow! She is very deserving of Diva. This was my first LuPone performance and I was blown away by her singing (acting, not so much as I couldn't get lost in her character and was always conscious that I was watching an actress on a stage).
-I agree with Patti that Broadway isn't what it used to be, for the worse. Every time I see a show, I am disappointed to see people in jeans, gym shoes, shorts even. I irritated that grown adults can't seem to remember to turn their cell phones off. Who forgets to turn their phone off in such a venue? I don't even want to know what other situations these people allow their phones to ring. I'm irritated by those who can't seem to truly whisper. And appalled by situations such as one a friend experienced...the person behind her unwrapped a tuna sandwich and had dinner.
-I agree that no photos should be taken during performances. This is Patti's means of making a living (the salaries of entertainers is a separate issue), there are copyright laws, and come on...how disruptive to someone on stage to have light flashes where there shouldn't be any.
-The intensity of the anger Patti displayed for all of us was shocking. It was enough for the stranger sitting next to me to tell me it made his palms sweat ~ enough to put knots in my stomach...and we weren't even the intended recipient of the berating. But, let's give Patti the benefit of the doubt...if it irritates me, how much more so would it irritate those on stage who are there night-after-night? Given this was 'Gypsy', given this was 'Patti LuPone', I have to believe cell phone and photography issues happen with each performance.
-But does any of this justify calling someone out and berating them in front of an audience? Does it justify anyone attacking another? In public? With such intense anger? Where's the professionalism? Where's the maturity? The bad behavior of one person does not justify bad behavior from another. (I could go into the fact that the audience member was an adoring fan, but that perspective seems so trivial given the degree of Patti's response.)
I believe Patti's inappropriate behavior far surpassed that of the audience member who snapped the photos. I walked in holding her in high regard, I left with an extremely low opinion of her. And yes, her talent is more than diminished. In my eyes, she stripped herself of all talent. It's up to Patti to create her talent again.
We live in a country where we enjoy our individual rights. Personally, I'm tired of inappropriate behavior being justified by one's 'rights' and by what our government has set as law.
(And don't get me started on that new commercial she's in.)
Was this berating & removal deserved?
- Sophia, an actress friend of mine, was appalled as her perspective is "The first thing you learn is that, regardless, the show always must go on."
-another friend involved in Broadway shows wasn't surprised given Patti's reputation of being over-the-top in her diva-ness. But he also thought she was completely out of line (even after giving her the benefit of the doubt that this has possibly been a continuous issue during the production).
-several friends in the business world shared the perspective that "we don't know what's happened in that theatre" (what she's had to put up with throughout the production) and that her actions could very well be justified.
-a very few felt nothing justified her behavior.
Interesting, the range of pov's and considerations given their fields.
I was curious to see whether I would hear any viewpoint(s) compelling enough to alter my own perspective. I didn't. Below are my thoughts on the situation:
-I give Patti credit for her singing talents. Wow! She is very deserving of Diva. This was my first LuPone performance and I was blown away by her singing (acting, not so much as I couldn't get lost in her character and was always conscious that I was watching an actress on a stage).
-I agree with Patti that Broadway isn't what it used to be, for the worse. Every time I see a show, I am disappointed to see people in jeans, gym shoes, shorts even. I irritated that grown adults can't seem to remember to turn their cell phones off. Who forgets to turn their phone off in such a venue? I don't even want to know what other situations these people allow their phones to ring. I'm irritated by those who can't seem to truly whisper. And appalled by situations such as one a friend experienced...the person behind her unwrapped a tuna sandwich and had dinner.
-I agree that no photos should be taken during performances. This is Patti's means of making a living (the salaries of entertainers is a separate issue), there are copyright laws, and come on...how disruptive to someone on stage to have light flashes where there shouldn't be any.
-The intensity of the anger Patti displayed for all of us was shocking. It was enough for the stranger sitting next to me to tell me it made his palms sweat ~ enough to put knots in my stomach...and we weren't even the intended recipient of the berating. But, let's give Patti the benefit of the doubt...if it irritates me, how much more so would it irritate those on stage who are there night-after-night? Given this was 'Gypsy', given this was 'Patti LuPone', I have to believe cell phone and photography issues happen with each performance.
-But does any of this justify calling someone out and berating them in front of an audience? Does it justify anyone attacking another? In public? With such intense anger? Where's the professionalism? Where's the maturity? The bad behavior of one person does not justify bad behavior from another. (I could go into the fact that the audience member was an adoring fan, but that perspective seems so trivial given the degree of Patti's response.)
I believe Patti's inappropriate behavior far surpassed that of the audience member who snapped the photos. I walked in holding her in high regard, I left with an extremely low opinion of her. And yes, her talent is more than diminished. In my eyes, she stripped herself of all talent. It's up to Patti to create her talent again.
We live in a country where we enjoy our individual rights. Personally, I'm tired of inappropriate behavior being justified by one's 'rights' and by what our government has set as law.
(And don't get me started on that new commercial she's in.)
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