How Camelot's Brief Tenure Defined My Life

 

November 22, 2963.  For so many of us over 50, the immediate image that comes to mind when we see that date is of a pink boucle Chanel suit worn by a beautiful first lady carrying roses. A handsome, youthful world leader smiling and waving from the back of a fancy convertible followed by the image of blood splattering and a panicked first lady climbing out of her car amidst secret servicemen scrambling to protect the motorcade.

On this 50th anniversary of the assassination of our young American president that day in Dallas, we pause to remember.  We hear people on television and radio relay the impact this monumental event had on their lives. The most common comment I've heard is how America lost its innocence that day.  I understand this, because after September 11, I saw our nation change into a world I no longer recognize.

Fifty years ago today, my parents had a brand new baby, (me.) :)  I was six weeks old. My mother, a devout Catholic AND a Kennedy worshipper, had two pictures on her wall.  The pope and JFK, who made Catholics feel proud of their religion. She could not wait for the 1964 election because she would finally be old enough to cast her first vote for President Kennedy's re-election. For Mom, it was personal. She actually shook President Kennedy's hand while wearing her wedding gown on the day visited Detroit and passed right by the bridal shop the day before her 1962 wedding.

Like countless others, my mom always remembered where she was the day of the assassination.  She lifted me out of my crib after a nap.  Mom and dad lived in the upstairs part of a Detroit flat occupied by their close friends. Mom was startled when her door burst open and my breathless "Aunt Chris"  ran over to Mom's little black & white television set and flipped it on without saying a word. The story I've always heard was that my mom's arms went loose and she nearly dropped me were it not for her friend, who quickly grabbed me.

Mom sat in a trance and chain-smoked cigarettes for basically the next three days. She didn't cook, she and dad barely ate anything and I was her only responsibility that dark weekend.

On this solemn day, as the world pays tribute to our fallen president, I reflect on how a president who was only "my" president for less than two months, impacted me.  Perhaps if my parents hadn't loved President Kennedy so, this day might not have had any significance to me at all, since I have no recollection of it. However, in the 49 years following the assassination, not one year went by without some mention of this monumental event every November 22. I distinctly remember how, home from college during Thanksgiving, I learned there were "secret documents" that held the key to unanswered questions regarding who was behind the assassination, which the Kennedy family said could be unsealed on the 50th anniversary.  I remember thinking that by 2013 I'd be "practically ancient." :) I wonder what ever happened to those so-called sealed documents.

I do have a quirky habit of automatically doing the math whenever people share their ages with me. Instead of thinking someone is eight years old than me, I add eight years to MY age and think "wow, he was in grade school when Kennedy died."  I don't know why I do this but it'll be that way till my mind fails, I'm sure.

In the years following the assassination, my mom collected all things Kennedy and she kept all she collected sacred. She was, after all, the uuber Kennedy family groupie. Today, I own volumes of books about the Kennedys, all read by my mother. I've enjoyed going through them this year as my own commemoration of this anniversary. I'm always surprised by how many of JFK's quotes and ideals can be applied to today's political and cultural events. Like most people, I wonder how life for all Americans might have been changed had he lived out his days to old age.

I doubt his life would have been quite as shrouded in secrecy as was Jackie's life. As a child growing up and thumbing through Look Magazine's glossy photos of the former first lady, it was easy to become obsessed with her. She was the prettiest first lady in modern time and remains that way to this day. All my elder ladies wore the pillbox hats made famous by Jackie sported Jackie's famous hairdos. My mom even bought me the iconic Jackie-O triple authentic strand pearl necklace replica for my 25th birthday. I'm even convinced that the reason I won the local Miss Westland pageant in 1981 was because I channeled my inner Jackie and donned a pair of cream-colored evening gloved with my gown, I was the only one wearing them. :)

I admit I sort of blame Mrs. Kennedy for my name. Apparently, on October 14, 1963, just an hour after my mom delivered me, a nurse walked in and asked Mom what my name would be. 

"Jacqueline," said my mom without missing a beat, to which the nurse exclaimed,
"OH LORDY! There are going to be so many little Jackies in your baby girl's classroom, someday! We've had three Jackies born this week!"

Oh, how I wish that nurse had never said this. I have always loved the name of Jacqueline. Yet my mother, not wanting to have me wind up being one of many little Jackie namesakes quickly christened me "Janice," a name of which I've never been fond. My daughter even named one of her American Girl dolls Jacqueline after hearing me say how much I loved that name.

Jackie's presence, however, followed me throughout my life. My very conduct as a budding woman was formed against the backdrop of her life. I lived by one principle... "What would Jackie do?"   Did a mean girl gossip about me or did a boyfriend dump me?  How would Jackie react? Should I wear a risqué blouse on a date? Would you imagine Jackie wearing such an outfit? Even how I used to react to tragedy was shaped by the image of a young widow in a black veil.  I think I didn't cry in public until my grandfather died in 1987 and even then, I was embarrassed. To me, the epitome of a class act was this tiny, reserved lady who said little to the public yet captured and held a nation's fascination for the next three decades until her death in 1994 and beyond.

No matter what you might think about his political or personal life and his playboy reputation, you must admit that the notion of life as an American during the height of American Exceptionalism in 1963 sounds infinitely more pleasant than life as an American today, where our country is widely disrespected both inside and outside of our country.  By all accounts, President Kennedy was a man with a sense of urgency. Those who knew him personally say it was as if he knew his life here on earth would be cut short. However inflated it might have wound up being, that magical presence of "Camelot" will always define an enchanting era that can neither be changed, nor forgotten.

Historians will continue to study his bungling of the Bay of Pigs invasion or his delicate stand-off with Khrushchev during the Cuban Missile crisis. In the broader scope, from a purely cultural standpoint, I think we can agree that John F. Kennedy represented all that embodied the youthful hope and energy of our nation better than any other president in my life time. In the 11 months of 1963 prior to that day, America felt invigorated and hopeful of all that this great nation could accomplish. As we commemorate him, let us all pray that someday, this once great nation can come together to experience such an invigorating resurgence once again.

 

# # #

An Imaginary Talk: Mom's Observations of my Life...on her 72nd Birthday

Me sitting by mom's portrait, a few years after her death.

Mom helping me to walk on my first birthday, Oct. 1964.

These days, some 13 years after losing my mom, I'll find myself thinking of her in a different way.  After this much time, obviously the shock of losing her is long gone and now thankfully, I rarely find myself on the verge of tears when I miss her, unless I watch a movie my mom & I used to love or hear a song that takes me over the edge. After Mom's funeral, someone told me that someday, when I think of my mom, I'll be able to actually smile and even laugh. Thankfully, for most of the time, anyway, this is where I'm at, now.

A lot of things this past year, however, have caused me to actually miss Mom more than usual. 2013 has had many milestones for me.  Milestones cause us to reflect back....so while smiling through my daughter's first holy communion, celebrating 10 years of wedded bliss and facing my own mid-life crisis as the big 5-0 stares me down, I find myself desperately wishing I could chat with Mom, to hear her take on my life these days.

Today, on what would have been her 72nd birthday, I though it might be fun to script out a conversation I imagine we'd have if only I could call her in Heaven just once a year. This can be very therapeutic, according to my grief counselor of 13 years ago.  I write a letter to my mom every year on her birthday but today, I'd like you to humor me, as I make a "phone call" publicly, won't you?

(Phone Rings)
MOM: Hello, been waiting for your call, you seem awfully busy lately! late again...

ME: Look who's talking.....anyway, sorry but we had mass, then I had to race home and get things tidied up and then--"

MOM: I know all that, I can see you, remember? My GOD, you've had a busy year since my last birthday, haven't you? I know WHY you're so chaotic. it's because you take on too much at once!  No WONDER you're never on time anywhere and no wonder you lose things every day! And DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED on your SPEEDING with my grand-daughter in the backseat.... --

ME: Ma I KNOW all that....I'm a work in progress but even at my best, I'll never be as neat & organized as YOU were...I don't know HOW you ever did it, especially with TWO kids.

(MOM LAUGHS)

ME: How are things? How's everyone up there doing?

MOM: Not much new to report on MY end, everyone here is happy and healthy, as always.  I see it's quite the opposite for people down THERE....

ME: I know Ma, isn't it just awful how crazy our world is?

MOM: Yes! EVERYONE there is racing all over the place, in such a hurry. I don't think, in all my years on earth, I've ever seen so many rushed and unhappy people in my life!  I'd NEVER be able to keep up! And then there's all that texting and Facebooking, Twittering.... what do I care what someone has on their agenda? Why do people need to share pictures of their dinner or their dogs? Seems like a sad culture. Gotta admit, though, if I were still down there in my wheelchair I might have liked being able to keep up with everyone on that Facebook thing....

ME: I've often thought the same.  Feels like the last 12 years of your life, while in your wheelchair, you sorta closed yourself off from the world. I often imagine you'd be the most popular gal on Facebook, because you were always one in the middle of all the action.

MOM: Geeee. I wonder where you get YOUR social butterfly behavior from?

ME: I am my mother's daughter. If you remember correctly, even with your walker and wheelchair, we couldn't slow you down, you were never in one place for more than a few minutes! Getting you to sit and do nothing was an impossible feat!

MOM: Yes, I admit I was a handful and I'm sorry all the worry I caused you all. Looking back, I don't remember why I was that way.  All that stress now seems so useless. None of that even matters once you get here.

ME: I wish we'd both spent more time relaxing, together, Ma.  I was always on a deadline at work and I never seemed to be content just sitting and chatting with you...I always had to be doing something WHILE we talked, as if sitting and just talking with you would have been wasted time.....remember that, Ma?

MOM: I do....AND I see my own daughter following in my footsteps.  It's OK if you want to call a friend and just sit still for 20 minutes instead of mopping the floors or shaking out the rugs while talking.  You CAN sit down with your husband and NOT fold clothes on the couch, ya know. If I knew then what I knew NOW...I'd have concentrated more on the PEOPLE I was with instead of all that silly busywork....

ME: Tell me, Ma...what else would you have done differently?

MOM: Well...I'd have been less stubborn and used more jarred spaghetti sauces, because they make them as good as I did and in half the time!  Seriously, though, I'd find a way for both you AND I to learn to take things as they come at you, one crisis at a time. I'd laugh more and worry less. As I see from my seat in the house, things ALWAYS work out, but you can't tell God how to do his job in the meantime. You, my daughter, are a control freak!

ME: So were YOU.

MOM: Believe me when I say that your life will turn out exactly as planned.  You can't dwell on trying to manipulate things to happen a certain way.  Let go and let God. I called you a worry wart when you were 8.  I see your daughter now does the same thing. Worry changes nothing.  It won't change outcomes, so just STOP.

ME: Easier said than done....so...how ya think I'm doing as a mom? Be honest...

MOM: I'm so glad you spend time playing with my granddaughter. I didn't seem to have the time to do those fun things while you were little. We had lots of fun once you were a teen but life was different as a housewife in the 60s. I regret that now.   I'm really proud you saw things my way and decided to stay home to care for her.  You once said you'd NEVER be a stay-at-home wife/mother. I seem to remember us having a terrible fight after I said I hoped you'd do that....you said it would be a "cold day in hell"  before you gave up a career you worked so hard to  achieve to stay home and change diapers.  Are you sorry now?


ME: Not at all.  Ma, it all goes by so fast!  I miss having my little 4 year old....she was still so sweet and innocent. Young enough to need me and she still adored me. I AM surprised, though....who knew a TYPE A like me would actually enjoy motherhood more than corporate life?

MOM: Told you! By the way, I'm tickled to hear so many people say she looks like ME. I'm flattered!  She's got the Battistelli cheeks and large sad eyes. Boy, she's sure one busy little girl these days! She's got you running! All that dancing and singing!  I am with her during every performance, you know. Seems like she's following your same pattern. Voice, music, dance....only THIS time I hope you'll encourage her to pursue this after high school. Your dad and I were so sad when you didn't major in music because that was all you ever wanted as a child and even through high school.

ME: You and Dad never let me forget it, either. Every time I quit or got fired from a job you reminded me I wasn't in my true calling, anyway. I'm so glad you can see her perform because I think of you every time she performs for a crowd. I always pray you can see her. About those activities....Mom I never truly realized how much time and money all MY extracurricular activities took up from YOUR life!

(MOM CHUCKLES) MOM: Ahhhh... this is music to every mother's ears.

ME: So...go ahead, fire away...what'd ya think of events this past year?

MOM: Marly's First communion was  magical! From the people who traveled to be there to her party to her little solo, you did everything the way I would have done it. I especially loved the darling little HAT you wore, still my fashion girl, I see. She'll never know this but I stood directly in front of her while she sang. I tried to calm her. To see her singing on the altar in that DRESS....well I don't mind saying I was weepy. I'm sorry you couldn't find YOUR communion dress until after the big day but the dress you chose was lovely. You still have my sense of style, those capped sleeves were so Grace Kelley!

ME: You always were my number one fashionista. My happiest memories with you are always about fashion, trying on shoes at the mall or doing mother daughter makeovers...I am trying to make Marly's childhood equally happy....

MOM: Mind if I tag along on your next spa day?  Ohhhhh, by the way, before I forget, Happy Anniversary! You made it to TEN YEARS!  When I died you weren't even dating anyone, you said you were finished with men, they were all jerks. I'm so glad THAT changed!
I really couldn't have picked a man more perfect for you. You know how I always told you the other guys were simply not "the one?" Well.... John is exactly who I had in mind. Remember I said the man you marry won't care if he sees you without makeup or with curlers in your hair?  He is everything I told you I'd hoped you'd have in a husband. I doubt you'd have made it to 10 years if you'd have actually married one of the other young men...

ME: Ma....

MOM: What? I told you you'd need a special kind of man to handle you. I for one think you did damned good! I even think he'd like me, don't you?

ME: Of course I do! I always say you must have hand-picked him once you got to Heaven. Mom, I'm sorry I criticized you about life with Dad. Turns out marriage is a lot harder than I imagined. Sometimes we get in ruts or fight about the stupidest things, like money.

MOM: Again, all of that stuff means nothing in the grand scheme of things.

ME: Can you believe how quickly Marly is growing, Mom?

MOM: Even though here in Heaven we have no sense of time, I do marvel at how quickly she's growing. I know my dying so early makes you cherish this special time all the more and I'm glad you do.  If I tell you nothing else about life where I am it's that you should think less about the journey and more about the destination.  It goes by in a flash. It's the only complaint I hear up here...people always say "if ONLY I'd have known this on earth...."

MOM: Oh, and two things are making me smile these days.  I LOVE it every time you repeat a saying I used to say to you! And, don't hate me for this, but I can't help but chuckle when your daughter rolls her eyes at you!

ME: Your "curse" is in effect now, thanks....

MOM: Oh hell, we had our moments, but we turned out great, didn't we?  Grin and bear it my dear, remember I once told you that you're not doing your job as a mommy until your daughter says she hates you. You're not there to be her buddy.  You are her MOMMY.  I'm glad you've passed my favorite words down to Marly...

ME: "Be a leader, not a follower... " and "Always speak up for yourself AND those who cannot speak up for themselves." Yep. I've told her that since she was three. I fear I might have taught her to speak up a little too well, Ma....

MOM: Well it seems to be working. You're raising an independent child. Never think that's a bad thing. Actually I'm very proud of that. You're doing well.

ME: I'm glad to know you think I'm doing something right in the mom department, it really is harder than it looks, this child -rearing...I often feel like a failure when I yell and lose my patience....

MOM: Oh, you're not alone.  Ask any mom. And I hate to say it but I think you'll have plenty more struggles before she leaves for college. After all, you were a strong willed girl since YOU were her age.  We had some real head-to-heads, didn't we?  it's all about her growing up with that independent streak. She is, after all, YOUR DAUGHTER. I'd expect no  less. Still...I  promise your little girl will be O.K.

ME: Good to know. SO.... Ma, this year I'm really having a rough time... I'm kind of stressing over my next birthday.... I cannot seem to  be able to grasp the fact that I'm REALLY going to be 50!  I mean, you were only 58 when-

MOM: Stop thinking about that!  I know you worry about your own mortality.  That's normal. But my life at 50 I was  in a far different place than you are now....  I married far younger.  I never went to college or traveled.  Truthfully, by the time I was your age I had grown children and your dad and I were separated.  You waited longer before marrying and having a child. You were READY to be settled by the time you married and started a family. You were much wiser. I used to  tell you that having a baby later would be fine....do you finally believe me now? All in God's time....

ME: Sure.... but by waiting so long, look at everything I missed! I missed having you HERE for all those special moments. You never met John. You weren't here to cry with joy when we got engaged.  Your chair was empty in the church on my wedding day, which I thought was the hardest thing of all...until I became pregnant and I didn't have you, my go-to person, to share in my pregnancy woes and joys.  You weren't in the waiting room when I gave birth and now.... Marlena has to call another woman Grandma!  It still makes me feel ill inside. Mom, sometimes I still get very angry!

(SILENCE)


MOM: I was there for every one of the moments you just described.  I stood in the bride's room with you just at the moment when all your bridesmaids had already gone up the aisle.  I walked down the spiral staircase next to you until your father took your arm.  I guided you as you prepared Marlena's nursery, I was beyond touched when you combined my mother and my names for your daughter's name. Gramma never stops talking about Marly, just as she never stopped talking about YOU.

ME: I miss Gramma. I miss you more, Ma. I still cry thinking about the first time I held her and I was missing you so badly I wasn't sure if I were happy or sad.

MOM: Do you remember that last night in the hospital right before she was born, you'd already been in labor two full nights and you finally dozed off in between contractions?  You always say someone shook you awake. You know who that was?  It was ME.  I needed to be able to let you know somehow that your mother may not have been sitting there to talk to you but that I was there. THE WHOLE TIME.

ME:  I've never gotten that out of my mind.  Everyone I told say it was YOU. I thought I was hallucinating.

MOM: A mother NEVER leaves her children's side, even when she dies, it's a love that is stronger than death.  You'll see that someday. You'll never leave Marlena's side.

ME: Ma, I know our time chatting grows near. I appreciate the mom-to-mom advice...

MOM: You're following in my footsteps even in a time when parenting must be so very hard because the world is so changed.  I'm proud of you and your brother. In fact, when my granddaughter used to lie in her crib, I was right there. I still peek in on her now, day and night.  You're doing your best which is all any mother can do.  I'm with you. I see everything.

ME: This makes me happy. Mom, one last question....you always looked so much younger than your 58 years....any advice you wanna share with me now that I'm about to turn the big 5-0?

MOM: What'd I always tell you?? Take care of your skin, don't scrimp on hair products or shoes and always leave the table a little bit hungry....

ME: Easier said than done.... If I had the money I could do so much more, heck so many friends are already getting Botox and tummy tucks!

MOM: Ya know what?? If I were still down there I'd say the hell with it, go for those "tweaks." You're getting the same bags under your eyes Gramma and I had....but you have the power to break the mold...I say do it!

ME: Ma I'm surprised! YOU always told me to  grow old gracefully...

MOM: Of course I did, but I never said you can't get a little help! You can STILL age gracefully but tell ya what,  if Botox was around, I'd definitely have gotten them by age 60!

ME: Mom you were always the coolest....

MOM: OK, gotta run, I have a card game with all the Fritzes tonight and you KNOW how much I love to win! Kiss my grand baby for me, I'll talk to you next birthday.

ME: OK, Ma.....

MOM: Oh and Janice?  This aging thing? Piece of cake. Don't hide your age. Shout it out LOUD.  Be proud of every wrinkle and laugh-line. They are badges of experience.  Hell, I'm even planning a party for your big day up here, so even though I can't call you at 1:05 a.m. like I used to, let's have a toast together, like old times, 1:05, a.m. on your birthday, stay awake, light a candle and toast with me, OK?

ME: Count on it !! Happy Birthday Ma, Let's have a glass of your favorite brandy tonight!

MOM: The only thing I miss up here while I drink my wine or Brandy are my cigarettes, it's all non-smoking up here now!  I'm tellin' ya they're takin' away all our rights.....

ME: Some things never change. Love ya Ma.

# # #

Remembering Judy on her 50th Birthday

August 26, 2013.  It was a date we three musketeers -- my BFFs Julie and Judy and I -- used to joked about as we were headed off to colleges 31 years ago. It was a date we thought was EONS away. It was fun back then, to wonder what our lives would be like when the first of our crazy threesome turned 50.  Julie and I would follow, in September and October. We teased that she was the oldest. One thing's for sure...however we'd imagined it in our young minds, we still assumed we'd be together to celebrate turning a "half-century" old. Life, however, has a way of throwing monkey wrenchesi nto your best-laid plans... in this case it was a pink monkey wrench,

Today would have been my dear friend Judy's 50th birthday. Even as recently as seven years ago, as we waited for her to have her latest pet scan, I reminded Judy that in a few short years this nightmare would be over and that we'd all be dancing at her 50th birthday party. She really believed it that day.  Or perhaps she wanted ME to think she did.  Looking back I now know she was staying positive despite the fact that her breast cancer had returned and was now metastasizing at an alarming rate.

I couldn't let today go by without somehow acknowledging Judy's birthday and that of her twin sister, Janet, both of whom are now gone, both having succumbed to breast cancer, only 11 months apart. The only difference was that Judy fought her cancer for six years while Janet, who was diagnosed the same year she lost her twin sister, wasn't able to fight it as long.  I'll never know if Janet ever told her dying sister she also had the disease. 
While I'm sad to think my dear friend and I will never call each other on our milestone birthdays again, the image of Judy and her sister celebrating today together makes me smile.

As I reflected on Judy this past weekend, I was struck by the profound ways in which Judy's life touched mine. It wasn't just the love and laughter shared between girlfriends, but the life lessons she taught me. In hindsight I'd say that Judy affected the trajectory of my life. A few examples:

Stop whining about your curves. To a teen aged girl, being skinny was the most important thing.  At 5'9, Judy taught me that being tall and skinny was just as challenging as being short and curvy.  "At least you don't look like a teen aged BOY," she'd always say as I lay down on my bed using pliers and struggling to zip up my jeans.

Judy Saved my soul: This is one is a biggie.  As a cradle Catholic -- I'd attended both parochial and public school -- I'd become a lapsed catholic teen regarding my faith.  My mom had become increasingly disabled with her lifelong ailment and she never pushed me to attend mass, so I'd stopped going, telling myself none of my "cool" friends went to church anymore. None except Judy, who would NEVER miss mass.  If we went out on a Saturday evening, Judy dragged me along to 5:30 mass at St. Theo's. If not, she'd call me to tell me to get "my butt" to mass the next morning.  I did it good-naturedly, but even after Judy had married and started her own family, I stayed involved in my faith for the rest of my life.   Judy's faith served her well in the years of her trials. If she ever lost faith it was never around me.  I remember anointing her with holy water from Lourdes the year before she died.  She had on a scarf and looked so pale and frail, yet as I dabbed some on her forehead, a bright smile came over her face and she said "See, I brought you back to the church, you brought me holy water."

To this day, nearly five years after the New Years' Eve morning she died, the image of her lying in her bed at home, with the Christmas tree up, a beautiful snow scene outside and candles, rosaries, mass cards and loved ones all around remind me that death doesn't have to be dark and ugly. It can be beautiful when you have faith.

If it weren't for Judy I'd have missed my prom: After breaking up with our high school sweethearts right before the senior prom, Julie, Judy and I were in a panic over not going to THE biggest social event we'd looked forward to since...oh....the fifth grade. :) At a sleepover at my house, Judy and our friend Julie and I hatched a plan to find dates for each other.  We poured over the boys in our yearbooks and decided which ones would make suitable dates. I was looking for a subtle way to ask the boy Judy liked but she wasn't quite so subtle.  She basically cornered the poor young man I had "chosen" while I was still within earshot and told him I liked him and I was free to go to prom with him. End of story.   It could have backfired, but lucky for me the boy was a friend I'd known since my days at St. Mary's, so it worked. But this whole idea was JUDY'S.  Were it not for her, I'd have sat home eating ice cream out of the pint had she not come up with her scheme.  :)
  
One girl's trash....Remember to put your Girlfriends FIRST: Anyone who knows Judy and me from way back knows that I eventually became engaged to Judy's high school sweetheart.  That sounds pretty awful of me until you know that Judy was already dating her future husband when her ex and I, who'd long been buddies, fell in love in our late 20s. Still, I'd broken the code all BFFs share...NEVER date the ex.  Yes, she slapped me across the face at a party and her anger caused us to go almost nine months without speaking. Eventually, though, Judy gave in to my calls and letters and came to realize our bond went deeper than any bond with a boyfriend could go.  She forgave me and became my bosom buddy again.  When that engagement eventually ended, it was Judy who helped me cancel the hall and dress orders and let me cry on her shoulder, all the while reminding me of the many quirks he had that I would have hated to live with, long-term. Years later we'd share private giggles about this man. Even after I'd married my husband, she'd ask me in a  whispery voice, wasn't I glad I dodged a bullet? (For the record that man is still a very dear friend of mine.) :)

Judy appreciated my mom even when I didn't. As a young teen the least cool person in MY eyes was my own MOM. Judy, however, loved my mom and used to say how lucky I was to have a "hip, mod mom."  To be fair, Judy's mom was an older mom and she and her sister were the youngest kids in a large family so her mom couldn't be so "mod." What stands out for me is the first Friday after we buried my mother. I was home alone, deeply grieving and feeling isolated on a sunny spring afternoon.  At 5:30 someone tapped on my door.  It was Judy, pizza and margaritas in hand. That evening we sat in my family room and watched chick flicks as Judy and I reminisced about the many fun times we'd had with my "cool" mom. Judy gave me lost of laughs reminding me how much my mom, a former hairdresser with a flair for fashion and makeup, influenced her sense of style.  By then, Judy had a busy growing family, yet she took the time to comfort me.  It remains one of the sweetest memories I have of a very dark time in my life.

Years later, a group of my high school girlfriends and I were only too happy to return the favor, as we became her "Christmas decorators" for the next few years, opening countless boxes of nutcrackers and bulbs and decorating as we drank her husband's special margaritas.  Judy had enough decorations to rival Bronners!! This became a tradition we continued until she died and beyond.  After her death, Judy's husband gave us all the opportunity to take home some of Judy's many ornaments.  I now keep her glitter deer on my mantle. 

D-R-A-M-A was Judy's middle name: If anyone put the D in drama, it was my friend Judy.  no matter WHAT was happening, Judy had a distinct way of telling you about it in a way that made it sound like a tabloid shouting out details in BOLD CAPITAL LETTERS. True-to-form, even the way I learned about Judy's breast cancer diagnosis was not a tear-soaked declaration but a dramatic proclamation.  Here's how the call went, as I sat in my office at work:
PHONE RINGS:
ME: Hello?
JUDY: I have CANCER. Can you BELIEVE it? CANCER!!!!!
ME: What? Cancer? WHERE?
JUDY: In my BREAST!!!
ME: Impossible, Jude, you don't even HAVE breasts! (bad joke, I know) to which she shouted:
"I KNOW!! If ANYONE has plenty of boobies to spare it's YOU!"  Even on that awful day, she managed to make me laugh.

One thing she focused on for years even before her cancer was the fact that I was over 35 and STILL.NOT.MARRIED. I would cringe when I’d hear her voice on the other end of the phone asking, in her breathy dramatic way, what ARE we going to do to get you MARRRRRRIED????  My own Italian mom never fretted about me, yet there was Judy, reminding me I’m not getting any younger.  It used to infuriate me. I can’t remember  which publication caused chaos when it infamously stated that women over 40 were more likely to be hit by lightning than finding a husband but I will never forget the dramatic phone call by Judy one night at 11:15 to read it to me. "I laughed. She was dead serious. WOMAN WE GOTTA GET YOU MARRIED!" was her (LOUD ) battle cry.

To that end, the shout heard at the other end of the phone was equally LOUD the day I called to tell her I was finally TRULY engaged to my now-husband.  It was as if she didn't have to worry about me anymore.   I SO wanted her to be a bridesmaid but by then she was undergoing chemotherapy. She bravely attended my wedding, bringing along her then very young daughter to the church.  I can proudly claim I was Olivia's first wedding! Once in a while, I'll pop my wedding DVD in to catch Judy, her white-blond spiky hair just growing in, standing up with my girlfriends, doing a comedic bit they'd choreographed. I'll treasure that  video forever.

Judy led me to my fertility doctor: Of course now that I was married, Judy was on BABY WATCH, 24/7.  EVERY.SINGLE.MONTH. she called to see if I was yet pregnant.  When I lamented that nothing was working, she called me back five minutes after we ended our call and told me to "call this number NOW."  It was her endocrinologist, Dr. Maria Hayes, who had helped Judy to have her second child, Olivia.   After exhausting every effort short of In Vitro, Dr. Hayes told us to take a month off and then she'd do Ovarian surgery.  Imagine the great joy when she had to halt the surgery seven weeks later because I was pregnant! From then on, Judy always referred to our impending blessing as "Baby Judy."

Judy saved my daughter from certain starvation: As a new mom, I was going by a rather strict regimented book that suggested you feed your baby EVERY FOUR HOURS and not a moment sooner.  The book's premise was that in this way, YOU are in control of your child and not vise-verse.  There was only one problem with this method.  Babies will still cry.  Judy came over one evening after hearing my exhausted voice on the phone trying to talk over a wailing child and told me to feed my daughter NOW.  I looked at my clock and quickly pointed out we still had 18 minutes before her next feeding. Judy was having NONE of it.  SHE announced I was STARVING my child and she ordered me to get a bottle immediately.  Turns out she was right. The minute she picked up my daughter, then just 12 weeks old  and popped the bottle into her mouth, Marlena stopped crying and became content!  I threw away that book and decided Judy was right….you go by the BABY, not by some book.  She also had a conniption that Marlena was still sleeping in her bassinet.  I said I preferred keeping her in there because the baby was too small for that huge crib.  She was born six weeks early, after all.  Not one to back down, Judy stuck my daughter in that crib and my child started sleeping through the night that very night.

So you see, Judy was a valued presence in my life. I'll always be grateful for her friendship and all I learned from her along the way. Tonight, I will raise a glass to my friend, and maybe put on some Debbie Harry or REO Speedwagon, hearkening back to days spent tooling around in our little cars, looking forward to all the wonders of life that stretched out in front of us in our glory days. 

Happy Birthday, Judy and Janet.  I know 50 would have looked damned good on you both. One thing's for sure...you both taught me to CELEBRATE my 50th, rather than mourn my youth. After all, not everyone makes it to this milestone birthday. Plus, I've got added incentive .... since you two never had the chance to celebrate, I've gotta do it for all of us! I hope they have lots of your favorite strawberry margaritas in Heaven, and plenty of REO blasting on the boom box. :)

# # #

A Different Generation, A Different Culture, The Same Worries for Parents

To my parents, the summer of 1968 had been a long, tumultuous one. In retrospect, I marvel at how many seismic events I'd breezed through that year. While I learned to ride a bike, chased the ice cream man and hung Bobby Sherman and Brady Bunch posters on my wall, I had no idea about the world-changing disturbances cropping up around me, even as events played out out on the Nightly News.  How was I to know anything about racial division, war protesters or civil disobedience?  I was not yet five years old.

Yet, by summer's end, America was still reeling by the death of two giants in the civil rights' movement, Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy. The night of Kennedy's assassination, I played Barbies on the living room floor as my mom ironed pillowcases while watching the Senator's victory speech at the Ambassador Hotel. Suddenly mom gasped and dropped her iron to the floor, shouting "Oh, God not again!" as the image of a slain Kennedy lying on a cement floor burned into my head.  Normally one might not remember that far back once he or she is my age but such a traumatic event is not easily forgotten.




Add to that a summer filled with psychedelic music, images of bloody combat in Vietnam and long-haired war protesters burning flags. I can only imagine what my parents thought about the world around them as they tucked my little brother and me into our cozy little beds.

Most adults barely remember their very early first days of school but I do.  In fact, I specifically remember the night before. I've been tested twice for a photographic memory. I have images in my head from so far back I swear they must be in my hospital crib. But that's another blog. :)

The last night before my first day of Kindergarten, my little dress was laid out as I said my prayers and Mom tucked me in. With a sad smile, Mom brushed hair from my eyes.  I asked why she was sad. Was she going to miss me?  Mom's answer was  something most parents today would shudder to hear.  Mom revealed she thought our world was "falling apart" and she wondered aloud what life might be like by the time my brother and I were grown-ups. Mind you, this was a pretty heavy sentiment to unload on a mere kid but back then, kids were not nearly as shielded from real life events as they are today.  I wasn't traumatized by her statement although I admit I was scared.  After all, when I'm afraid of anything I look to my parents for protection.  What happens when the grown-ups are afraid?

Flash forward more than four decades later.  I found myself in that same spot Monday night as I kissed my eight-year-old daughter goodnight.  She knew there had been an explosion at the Boston Marathon but we didn't tell her someone actually planted bombs, we just held hands during grace as we always had and prayed for the victims during dinner.
 
Children seem to have an innate sense of when to ask specific questions. I pondered how to answer my daughter if she asked HOW the explosion happened. Sometimes she'll ask a profound question at a time when I'm trying to figure something out and brilliantly, her question leads me to my answer. I believe this is God speaking to me. Last night, she did not ask anything profound.  She just asked me why I told daddy I was worried about her future. Apparently, she hadn't gone directly upstairs to brush her teeth...

I explained that sadly, the world is a dangerous place.  Sometimes people are sick and do bad things to harm others. As I sat on her little bed, I told her that when I make her check in with me from the yard or I get mad when she plays near the street or doesn't answer me when I call her, it's only because I want to protect her.

"I feel sad that our world is crazy and that I can't always be around to protect you from the things that happen," I told her.

With all the faith and confidence of a toothless eight-year-old, she sat up from her bed, grinning and said,

"But mommy, that's why God gave me a Guardian Angel! You have one too, ya know. So you can just STOP WORRYING now!" :)

So there it was, a simple answer to an age-old question posed by parents from generation to generation, continent-to-continent.  I'm now certain that, during that wild summer of 1968, my parents could not have even imagined the world we children would go on to inherit. But guess what? We're still here, now parents in our own rights. We're now the protectors, not the protectees.  We are the comfort during storms, we provide the shoulders our children cry on in times of disappointment. 

Is this world ideal? Definitely not.  I wish it were, as do we all but here's the thing. We can choose to dwell on the bad... and perpetuate it... or we can pick up the pieces yet again, crisis after crisis, attack after attack and move on,  ever mindful of one more notch of experience in our nation's collective belt. I choose to put it in the back of my mind and continue to be the safe haven for my child. 

Meanwhile, the world will keep spinning.  Horrific things will continue to happen.  Parents will shield their babies and despair over their children's futures. Then suddenly, just as we're about to lose all hope, these children....these beautiful, untainted, unjaded little creatures, will always restore our faith in Humankind.  And the beat will go on.  Keep the faith my fellow Americans.  God put the children on this earth to remind us that He will always be there to deliver us in the nick of time.

## 

Sandy Hook Tragedy Forced Me to Slow My Frantic Pace

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What a difference a week makes.  Only seven short days ago, I, like most mommies in the USA, raced against the proverbial north pole clock, trying desperately to get it all done. My mind was reeling with visions of EVERYTHING dancing in my head. The words shopping,baking, wrapping, packing looped through my head.

 

I peeked at next week's calendar with apprehension, realizing my sprint to the finish line included a dance recital and a Christmas pageant, knowing that on Friday, Dec. 21, the date of the Mayan-predicted Apocalypse, no less...we needed to be packed, wrapped & shoved into a van headed north. My stress levels are always UP but I remember feeling especially dismal on this particular day.  Why are we going up so early? Why can't we have Christmas here at home and THEN head north, this will buy me extra time and let me relax...HOW.WILL.I. BE. READY?  I berated myself for not being a supermom. I'm always amazed at moms who work full time and still seem to be cheery despite the stresses, while I feel anything BUT...

 

That night, I found myself staring at our lovely Christmas tree and longing for the innocence of a child this time of year. As I fretted about how this was all going to get done before we travel, Marlena put her little hand on my arm and reassured me that SANTA will get  whatever I can't finish by magic. "He always does, mommy, because he's SANTA!" (sigh)

 

I smiled and reminded myself that I am the future prism of my daughter's Christmases past....one day, she will hearken back to HER childhood and recall a crazed mom pulling all-nighters, focused only on getting it all done, minus the joy of Christmas carols and chestnuts roasting on an open fire.  This thought stopped me in my tracks.  Tomorrow, I told myself, I will be the picture of Christmas cheer! I forced myself to bed early and woke up with a renewed sense of joy.  I have 11 days more to show my daughter her mommy is Christmas cheer incarnate!

 

After school drop-off, I raced home, put on Christmas music and went straight to work.  I was amazed how much I knocked off by 10:30 a.m.! Hey, maybe the cheerier we are, the more productive we are, I mused.  Suddenly, I turned on my iPhone and all my news alerts went off at once.  What now, I asked myself, another "fiscal cliff" alert?  I glanced at the headline and read the words "School in Connecticut..." scrolling. I'm shamed to say I put my phone down and went about my business. I honestly thought, oh great, another ACLU fight over a nativity scene on a school ground... :/

 

A few moments later, another updated headline alerted me with a "plink".  I walked over to see "...At least 26 now confirmed dead at Connecticut Elementary School..." OH NO!  What happened? A school accident? Oh no, surely no children were killed?

 

I quickly clicked on it and as I read the first few sentences describing the horror of Sandy Hook I sunk to my knees on the kitchen floor. NOOOO! I knew no one there but this time it felt personal. THERE WERE CHILDREN INVOLVED! My worst fears were confirmed as I read how the tiniest victims were the same age as my daughter....My heart sunk as I imagined the sheer terror in the hearts of Sandy Hook parents when they got word of this horrific event. 

 

Talk about a kick in the ass!  I realized that for 26 families, which only counts those directly killed, not to mention those injured physically and psychologically injured, Christmas was gone.  Those 26 families also had stressed out parents also trying to fit it all in yet now, in the blink of an eye, there would be no more rushing around, no more stress. Only IMMENSE grief. I cried along with the rest of our nation. 

 

That night, as all parents did, I hugged my daughter extra tight and promised her I was NOT going to sweat the stuff that matters little in life.  I felt ashamed for the second time that day, asking myself why it takes such a tragedy to remind us that nothing else really matters but the well-being of our families?

 

There will be much written about this tragic day. There will be a long road ahead for the families directly impacted by this nightmare and sadly, for the parents of the slain innocents and families of faculty and staff members, there will be no closure. EVER. Nothing good can come out of such an epic tragedy.

 

Many TRY to find some "take-away" from any such  event to be sure it did not happen in vain.  For me, that take-away is this:  SLOW DOWN.  ENJOY THE JOURNEY. We hear it all the time but do we really live it?

 

As we close in on Christmas 2012, let us honor those we lost in the senseless tragedy by soaking it all in, look at your child's face before the big day.  Burn it in your heart and draw from it every time you feel challenged or disillusioned.  Children have a way of making us see things the way GOD wants us to see them.

Mark 10:14-15--“Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.”

See Christmas through the eyes of your child or of any given child. Not with gloom and dread or with dollar signs in your eyes but with the same anticipation and magical wonder of a child.  If we all do this one little thing, we can honor those children (and their brave teachers) whose lights were snuffed out all too soon.  

 

Despite the sadness we all feel this season, I wish you and yours a blessed Christmas and I send prayers for a renewed hope in coming year. Perhaps the best way we can keep the memories of  these children is to follow the immortal words Charles Dickens in A Christmas Carol:

“I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year.

So it's not a Rockwell Thanksgiving...but I still wish I could sit at the kids' table....

 

 

Today, I can almost smell the enticing aroma of my Gramma Lena's Italian kitchen, circa 1970.  For me,Thanksgivings gone by include memories of dinners that resembled the iconic Norman Rockwell picture above...that is, if you add LOUD voices, screams at a TV set during Lions football games and Italian bickering between my grandparents. For my brother and me, Thanksgiving was a blur of going from one relatives' house to the next, satisfying BOTH sides of the Fritz and Battistelli families.

 

First stop was always Gramma Lena's, where we ate earlier and we cousins played simply, by jumping off Gramma & Grampa's porch into their bushes. OK truth be told, the BOYS jumped, while I, being the only granddaughter, loved being in Gramma's kitchen as she, my mom & aunts carried what seemed like endless plates of food to the dining room table. 

 

I was the "lucky" kid who got to sit at the "grown-up " table; for a few years I can even remember the phone books placed underneath my bottom to raise me up. Every 10 minutes, as I sat with the grown-ups, an aunt or uncle would get up from the dinner table to check in on the boys.  Eager to see what sort of hi jinx was taking place in Gramma's kitchen, I'd often glance toward the kitchen to see what "those crazy kids" were up to.  Though I'd NEVER admit it to my male cousins, I silently wished I was in there having what sounded like tons of fun. Food fights. Laughter. Moments of complete silence followed by obnoxious yet funny sounds and uproars of laughter. There was probably even a bit of mockery of me as my cousins made fun of their older "princess" cousin seated with the adults.  Nonetheless, I got to sit in the dining room as the adults raised their glasses of wine and talked about current events, reports of other family members' lives and laughed at jokes that made absolutely no sense to me while my cousins made jokes that I TOTALLY would have gotten!

 

Meanwhile, grown up me....even at age eight, I sat with my cloth napkin neatly folded on my lap and followed my mom for cues as to which fork to use with which entree. I held up my pinkie as I drank my Ginger Ale (it's a Detroit thing) and I listened to the kids playing in the kitchen, sometimes even rolling my eyes like the adults did, despite my desire to be with them.  Even as the "boys" grew into young men, I still sat at the grown-up table and they opted for the kitchen. By then, it was more of a male family tradition.

 

Today, whenever we all get together for holidays, they joke around and sometimes when we're all together I almost feel like I'm outside of an inside joke, but I love that they have that sense of constancy to fall back upon no matter which direction life has taken them.

 

When we moved here to Chattanooga in 2010, I took EVERY excuse to run home to Detroit. Our first Thanksgiving here, living in a little apartment until we could move into our current house, most of my cooking gear was still in storage so we ate at a high-end restaurant overlooking the Tennessee River.  I cried all the way home, fearing our tight family ties were forever severed.

 

Today, I am spending my second Thanksgiving, ever, away from my family. But wait...I DO have a family. It's my OWN family. We live HERE, in Chattanooga, now. Yes, I will miss being with Dad and my brother's family. However, something has happened in the last two years. My daughter is now a second-grader.  She has started to build her own little roots here.  She has friends here now and so do my husband and I.

 

Do I get misty-eyed when I think that my daughter will someday never have the same KIND of "Rockwell" memories of her childhood I did, of annually coming together to give thanks under the same roof as her cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents? Sure. Knowing many other children are in this same position, with grandparents living miles away, comforts me. 

 

Maybe Rockwell, himself, knew this when he made his famous "Freedom from Want" portrait, which ironically first graced the cover of the Saturday Evening Post March 6, 1943.  Maybe he painted it for posterity, capturing it as a moment in time we shall never again know....maybe he knew as life rolled along, families would spread out across the country....and eventually, even the globe.

Perhaps he hoped we might come together each year to replicate it. Either way, we can all still make our own Rockwell moments to this very day.  It's easy. In homes across the country, travel-weary family members are seated on couches and at tables everywhere. There are likely still kids' tables...the traditions live on.

Even if we are hundreds of miles from our family today, our hearts and prayers are still with them as distinctly as if we were seated besides them. Thanks to technology, we can talk, text, skype and enjoy social networking sites that make us feel as if we are there in real time. You see, we are STILL there.  We can all grumble about how much technology has lessened our ability to communicate but for those of us living hours away from loved ones, it can be a beautiful thing. 

 

To you and yours, from me and mine, I wish you all a bountiful Thanksgiving during which you create magical memories, no matter which table at which you are seated. ;) 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 











How Helen Gurley Brown and Cosmopolitan Magazine Shaped My Life



1982, during my most formative years

 It is with great irony and sadness that I write about the passing of the legendary publisher and icon Helen Gurley Brown, who passed away yesterday at the age of 90.  Only two days ago, as my husband and I were checking out of the grocery store, I spotted the magazine rack and as I always do, I began flipping through the various covers shouting at me to bring them home. My husband gave me his usual look, indicating I still had countless magazines I'd not yet found time to read....still, I flipped through everything from House Beautiful and Redbook to People, debating on which one would most speak to me this week.  This has been happening since I was knee-high.  While I love reading everything from non-fiction to literary classics and yes, even the trashy Harlequins, my one weakness has always been glossy magazines, with the strikingly beautiful models on the cover and headlines, screaming how they will improve every aspect of my life from my sense of fashion, career to fitness and most importantly, of course, my love life.
I blame it on my mother and the copies of Photoplay and Look magazines she left lying around the house.  Even at my daughter's tender age of seven, I'd grab them and peruse every page, filling my monthly need of Hollywood gossip.  I learned to make my father's favorite fried chicken from a recipe right out of Mom's Good Housekeeping magazine by age 10.  Once a month, Mom would let me cook an Sunday entire meal by scratch, copied from one of those magazines.  By age 13, I was making amazing meals for my family while telling you the latest fall fashion trends, the newest movies coming out and which Hollywood couples made up or split up.


Cosmo January 2012

But I digress. Back to the other day.  Just as the cashier asked if there would be anything else, I shook my head, then spotted the ever-present Cosmopolitan on the stand, with a beautiful model on the cover as usual and the alluring price of $3.99 in a bright red banner across the top. 

"That's a great price for Cosmo," I mused to myself.

Did I buy it? Of course not, because I reminded myself that my love affair with Cosmo had by now been long over for more than a decade. It was about 12 years ago I first uttered, with great lamentation, that I'd "outgrown" Cosmopolitan Magazine, the glossy companion I'd never missed an issue of since I was 18. OK, if you count the issues I'd snuck past my mother as a young teenager, I guess you can say more like age 15....

I imagine back in those days, Cosmopolitan Magazine, or what I later called "Cosmo," was to teen- aged girls what Playboy was to our male counterparts.  After all, It was Cosmo that first boldly splashed a young, naked Burt Reynolds across its centerfold in 1972.  I was all of nine years old and I remember my mother, my aunts and my mom's girlfriends' quiet giggles over it, especially after one aunt dared to tape it to her wall.



1957

One afternoon, at the age of 15, one of my BFFs from high school brought over a pile of magazines for us to read as we slathered our young bodies in baby oil to "lay out" and tan <insert audible gasp here.>  As my friends read Tiger Beat, I first read Cosmopolitan in my own right.  For the first time, my "mother's" magazine had turned to "my" new favorite read, as many of the articles (OK MOST of the articles) featured the latest hair and make-up tips and ways to tantalize and attract men, all of which appealed to my by-then boy-crazy, fashion-obsessed young mind.

Mom didn't, at first, have a problem with a few issues she'd let me pick up at the store, until the day she almost fell over in the kitchen when I waltzed in and asked her what the word "Orgasm" meant.  I was not yet 16!  She hurriedly grabbed the magazine from my hands, told me Cosmo had turned to "smut" and said I was never to bring that trash into her home, again.  (Hence the smuggled articles from then until I turned 18...)

Once I was a college girl, Cosmo was no longer smuggled into the house in a brown paper bag even if my mother still shuddered over the headlines which became ever bolder through the next several years. I'd even read HGB's daring books from the 1960s, Sex and the Single Girl, and Having It All in the 1980s, which reinforced my notion to grab life by the horns. NOW. By the time I was ready to graduate college with a degree in journalism I announced I had sent my resume to none other than Helen Gurley Brown, herself.  My mother was not surprised. 
"You know you'd have to move to New York, don't you," she asked.

Without such things like the Internet or even e-mails back then, relocating to New York was a writer's only hope to work at such a prestigious magazine like Cosmo.  That, to me, was a problem, since by then, my mother's lifelong joint disease had morphed into an affliction that would keep her in a wheelchair for the rest of her life.  Mom and I had always been extraordinarily close and there was no way I was going to move away from her, especially now that she couldn't come and go as she once could.   So....I went to work in TV news, followed by stints at local newspapers and the like, maintaining both my love of writing and my family ties.

Cosmo, however, remained in my life and became tantamount to the bible to me, a young career woman of the 1980s who was busy trying to break glass ceilings, dating multiple men and not yet ready to settle down and marry.  Every year, my BFF Julie, who has as many bumps and bruises from her past love life as do I, would call me in January to be sure I'd picked up Cosmo's annual "Bedside Astrologer," which we'd pour through like schoolgirls well into our 30s.



1927

Looking back  think about the many affirmations I received from Cosmo during those years.
Aunt at family wedding: "Dear when will you settle down and marry?  You've been out of college for five years, your mother wants grandchildren!"
Me: "You know, Cosmo magazine says women do not need to marry before 40 and they can STILL have children."

I took to citing facts from that wonderful magazine to ward off many an inquiring mind through the next several years.
I was once involved in a long-term relationship I finally ended, in part, thanks to Cosmo's article and tha magazines monthly "quizzes" urging women to be sure we weren't "settling."  While all my closest friends were getting married and I would feel that gnawing sense deep down inside that maybe I'd never have children, Cosmo ran an article about the growing trend of women postponing motherhood for their careers.  That soothed me through many a stint as the unmarried bridesmaid.

Subsequently, I was engaged twice, before I met and married my husband, at age 39.  When I finally did so, I felt like maybe I'd somehow mirrored Helen Gurley Brown, who married her husband in her late 30s. 

Just as Cosmo predicted, I did, indeed, have a baby after 40 and the universe did not tilt. By then, I was more than READY to be a mom unlike so many of my close friends who were frazzled young moms in the years that I earned my own money, bought my own cars and traveled in and out of the country on a whim.  Thanks to Cosmopolitan Magazine, I've lived a vivacious,fun-loving life without the pressure of having to do "certain things" by a "certain age."  I pursued my educational and career goals and to boot, I finally did what I knew I'd ultimately do on MY terms.... marry and become <another audible gasp> a housewife.  Only this time, I'd say I'm anything BUT a "desperate housewife" thanks to Helen Gurley Brown's non-conventional wisdom.

I chuckle when I stop to think how I'm more "Family circle" than "Cosmo" these days....but somehow I think the now late, great HGB would approve. In fact, as I approach my <gasp> 49th birthday this fall I think I will be snatching up her final book, "The Late Show: A Semi-wild But Practical Plan for Women Over 50," so I can go boldly into the next phase of my life. Somehow I feel she'll still be with me for several years to come and I've a feeling the "wild child" within will not be tamed by my "Fab 50s"  Rest in Peace, HGB and a special thanks from your "Cosmo Girls," everywhere.