The first weekend of May has the proud pleasure of hosting what is known as a supermoon. For those who are unfamiliar with this term, a “supermoon” is a full or new moon that occurs when the Moon follows its closest approach to the Earth on its elliptical orbit (or perigee). During the full moon phase, it appears as much as 14% larger and 30% brighter than other full moons of 2012.
May’s supermoon even outshined the annual Eta Aquarid meteor shower. While some of you may have caught glimpses of fireballs, the Moon in all its glory casts so much light in the night sky that most other light won’t be visible. More…
Over dinner with an author/editor/friend the other evening, we began with well-deserved martinis (just for being able to find a date and location that worked for both of us and didn’t involve either of us taking a day off to accomplish this small feat). As women do, we fawned over each other’s hair and clothing and didn’t miss a single detail of accessory choice, nail condition or jewelry. Women do this all the time. Women writers process every nuance of what they see and experience for future columns, blog posts or novels. I swear I have read scenes of my life on pages in books. More…
To celebrate the Miami City Ballet’s 26th anniversary, a groovy gala was thrown that was all show and even more go.
This ‘60s-inspired event at the Flagler Museum in Palm Beach was appropriately titled “Palm Beach MODness!” Guests took a trip down memory lane by decking themselves out in retro wear, complete with go-go boots, bell-sleeved dresses and much more haute hippie attire. More…
I recently had the privilege of interviewing artist Max Ferguson, whose “Painting My Father” series is on exhibit in New York. Many of his photograph-like images are haunting. The subject matter is immediate and personal. As a fellow artist, it was easy to engage in dialogue. What I didn’t bargain for, however, was how much his art and our conversation would settle on me and give me new perspective both as a painter and a daughter.
I recently saw my mother for the first time in 20 months. My mom has Alzheimer’s disease. While she is in otherwise general good health for 84 years of age, her mind has been robbed by this awful illness and all we can do is witness its toll and her decline. Documenting my thoughts, observations and feelings is my way of dealing with it. I wouldn’t even begin to know how to paint my way through or out of it as Max has done.
Seeing the woman who raised me as a shell of herself saddens me beyond measure. Hearing the same questions being asked only moments apart and having to answer them over and over again as if I am responding for the first time is challenging. I humor myself by making up colorful answers. Watching my mother walk like a toddler makes me want to baby her. Seeing her walk into my mirror and catching herself by surprise when she witnesses her own reflection makes me feel guilty for giggling when all I really want to do is cry.
Her fingers are bonier and somehow much longer than I remember them as a child. They move like insect legs. Her table manners remain exquisite while holding utensils, yet her motor skills and ability to deliver food directly to her mouth without taking a detour sometimes is astonishing. Ready, aim, fire is now more of a hit-and-miss proposition. Aging is cruel in itself. Aging with such an insidious disease for which there is no cure is heartbreaking.
The glazed look in her eyes as they stare straight ahead is what I see in my mind when I close my own.
I fear for both of us.
What is it with Mother’s Day? Am I the only one brave enough to ask, “Is this really supposed to be my day?” The answer is no, not at all. It’s yet another holiday geared for the mommy to make it work.
First of all, Mother’s Day should not involve children. It should be a day off to enjoy a little “me” time. This should be the requirement. The day should look something like this: More…
May 2012 Radio Ad
