In any community, regardless of the size or location, there are multifarious challenges in relating which all of us – as individuals and collectively – face at one time or another. Regardless of the specific circumstances, the goal of any group is to find a way to coexist peacefully and interact with others in a way that is beneficial – or, at the very least, civil – to all involved. The very fabric of society as a whole depends on these fundamental principles.
In my experience, the communities that I have enjoyed living in the most, and have felt an integral part of the most – from tiny pueblos to huge cities – have always been diverse to some degree. Whether the diversification comes from racial, ethnic, cultural, religious, political and/or intellectual differences, I have found that locales that are more of a melting pot (on any of the aforementioned levels) encourage compatible coexistence, if not necessarily tolerance and explicit interactions.
It is human nature – and it always feels easier – to remain in one’s comfort zones. We are all far more instinctively and unconsciously inclined to seek to engage with and appreciate people who look, think, believe, pray (or not pray) and behave in similar ways to our own predilections. But by ensconcing ourselves in this insular familiarity and self-created sense of “security”, we may miss the opportunity to learn new things. New patterns of behavior and edifying ourselves beyond our normal scope are what consistently motivate us to become greater than the previous sum of our parts. It is in seeking to surpass our long-held understandings that we truly grow, both as individuals and as members of society as a whole.
If my Italian-American mother hadn’t been open-minded when she met my West-Indian father when they were both students at Brooklyn College, neither I nor my uniquely wonderful brothers would be here today. My mother’s open-mindedness transcended her strict cultural upbringing. At the time of my birth in 1968, my maternal grandfather was a bigot only slightly to the left of Archie Bunker. Almost immediately after my birth, he became my best friend and surrogate father, and in time, he completely overcame his inherited racist beliefs. None of this would have been possible if my mother hadn’t had the courage to follow her heart instead of societal and familial indoctrination.
Over the years, I have become quite aware that some people view my innate friendliness and compassion with guarded suspicion, as though I must be hiding something up my sleeve. (Many more people have regarded and appreciated me at face value.) I make an effort not to judge the skeptics who doubt my true nature, because I know what is my truth. In addition, it’s a hard world to navigate, and sometimes the psycho-emotional mine field of daily living wears people down to the point where it’s all they can do to get by.
The problem with getting caught in the rut of survival instincts is that it becomes all too easy to become cynical. If we view everything with suspicion, then eventually, our capacity for hope and optimism will erode. This is why I make an effort to be kind as much as is possible: because there is so much enmity in the world already. But seeing everything in terms of polarities – kindness and enmity, etc. – isn’t necessarily a solution, either. There are too many shades of grey in between the absolutes, and – to extend the metaphor – there are also myriad majestic palettes of remarkable combinations of colors (experiences).
My purpose in writing this article is to invite readers – many of whom I already consider to be my community, my “circle of friends” – to make a deliberately heightened effort to appreciate difference, diversity and a fuller spectrum of what it means to be human. I invite you to choose something that is unquestionably the greatest challenge for you – for me, it would be having compassion for the right-wingers who are trying to dismantle women’s reproductive freedoms – and try to see the situation through your (perceived) adversary’s eyes. I’m not recommending in any manner that you should seek to adopt their point of view or even condone it in any way. I’m merely suggesting that you endeavor to shine a light of compassion into the darkness of their hatred.
As human beings, we can either keep bickering over base, insignificant trifles, destroying the once-pristine environment and the exquisite animal kingdom in our materialistic, frenetic distracted hubris; or else we can make a dedicated effort to find common ground with each other, and share our highest productive intentions instead. Considering the exceptionally dire state this planet is in, we would all do well to remember the fundamental, incontrovertible truth: that we are all in this together: and either we will all survive and thrive as a whole, or ultimately, none of us will.
I’ll leave you with the immortal words of Rodney King:
“Can we get along? Can we… can we… can we all get along? Can we stop making it horrible for the old people and the kids?”
I read an article a while back in which pediatricians recommended depression screenings for new moms. After you have a baby, your OBGYN may ask you some questions about post-partum depression. However, in this article, Canadian doctors recommended that pediatricians screen for depression in new moms.
This is a good idea because as you moms know, you are at the pediatrician every 5 minutes, it seems, especially with your first baby. There are all these developmental milestones and issues to worry about and vaccines and lectures and that constant weighing. New babies must constantly be weighed to make sure they are gaining weight, but not too much weight. You probably also visit the pediatrician a lot because as a new mom, you are terrified every time the baby coughs, sneezes, spits up, sleeps through a feeding, poops something weird or does anything new. It’s so stressful because you’re new to the game and convinced that you are doing something wrong. My mom called the pediatrician the first time my brother sneezed. She was in a panic only a new first-time mom can appreciate.
If you don’t have children, you might wonder why a new mom might be depressed. You might be especially confused if the baby was planned. Isn’t this what the mother wanted? Why on earth would the mother of a healthy baby be depressed? Sure, the baby looks more like a hairless rat than a Gerber baby, but she must have known that babies don’t start out very good looking.
Well, for starters, newborns provide feedback vigorously. Sometimes, they scream all the damn time. It’s very easy to anger a newborn. Here are some of the things that anger newborns:
Feedings
Lack of feeding
Gas
Noise
Quiet
Swaddling
Rocking
Lack of rocking
Not being held by Mom
Being held by Mom
Clothing
Nudity
Dirty diaper
Clean diaper
You are breathing too loud
Fluctuations in the Dow
Changes in atmospheric pressure
Changes in formula
Changes in the mother’s diet if breastfeeding
Changes in the return policy at Target
There are some things about being a new mom that no one can really prepare you for. One is the sensation of a healing episiotomy scar. It’s a feeling like no other. Another is a healing c-section scar which has the added bonus of the judgment you may receive for not having a natural birth. Then there’s the fact that it’s next to impossible to get a shower because your baby, who you thought would be a super-cute baby but looks more like crib larvae, will not stop screaming or pooping.
Other reasons for depression include being trapped in the house, not being able to finish a sentence because you are so unbelievably exhausted, sheer tiredness the likes of which you have never known, and the feeling of betrayal you get when you realize you still need to wear maternity clothes. That put together with the hormone cocktail a new mother receives could spiral anyone into a depression. I know that I, personally, spent 45 minutes in the bathroom crying because someone sent my son a windup toy that play “Hush Little Baby” and it was just the saddest song I had ever heard. Hormones can play mind tricks on you.
I think all new moms should be alerted to how real the possibility of this depression can be because it can be difficult. Even moms who don’t struggle with depression aren’t likely caught up in the state of bliss the media leads you to expect. The first six weeks of motherhood can be brutal. You’re sort of removed from real life and it can make it difficult to see things clearly.
I also, selfishly, wanted to post this because I am dying to hear post-partum stories from other Crasstalkers. I know there are some good ones out there. I’ll even help by embarrassing myself some more:
I burst into tears at Thanksgiving dinner and asked my husband if he would ever want to have sex with me again (the baby was 2 weeks old). I’m pretty sure my mother overheard me.
I nearly tackled a woman who asked me when I was due. I was holding the baby. I knew I wasn’t losing the weight very quickly but she didn’t have to rub it in.
The D, The Dirty, The 313, Hockeytown, Detroit Rock City, Motown, Motor City. Call it anything you want; just don’t call it Hell. Hell’s 60 miles to the west. I have a love/hate with the city, almost as much as my love/hate for New York, but, even if you don’t want to live amongst the urban decay (but, really, why wouldn’t you? One of my friends lives next to a goat slaughterhouse and she sees goats killed e’ry day!), it’s a stellar place to visit, because then people will look at you and say,
“You went on vacation…in Detroit? Why?”
And you can tell them its because you’re a hardcore badass and you saw, like, five shootings and had your rental car stolen (good thing you got that insurance!) and everyone will believe you. That’s the beauty of Detroit. There’s so much awesome crap, but everyone stays away because of the crime, which, to be honest, is bad, but more in some parts than others and I wouldn’t send you to the bad side of Mexicantown. That’d just be reckless.
Now, I by no means claim to be an expert on Detroit. I grew up in the suburbs, but we’d go down into the city for games or theater and then we’d get a bite to eat somewhere nearby. My first long-term exposure to Detroit was my first two years of college when I went to school in midtown. Then I left for 18 months to be in New York. I’m going to do my best to give you a rundown of what to do in and out of the city because Detroit, as special as it is, is also a city that thrives off its suburbs. Detroit, never just means Detroit. It almost always means (in my head) the area west of Telegraph, East of the River, North of Detroit city limits and South of 26 Mile Road (yes, there’s not just 8 Mile). The best stuff, though, is in the city proper.
Before I begin, I’d like to say something controversial. New York pizza sucks. It’s awful. Just terrible. The true king of pizza is Detroit and I will be covering the top three, two of which are in suburbia.
Michigan Central Station
Eat:
Detroit Proper
Mudgie’s: 1300 Porter at Brooklyn 313.961.2000. OMFG MUDGIE’S. If there was one place I’d like to lift to New York City via helicopter, it would be Mudgie’s. I talked about Mudgie’s briefly in the last The Detroiter column, but, OMFG, it’s so good. I finally went down there last week for the first time since I’ve been back in Detroit and I had a total foodgasm. All of the sandwiches are made with fresh ingredients, most of them local and organic and the meats are all ethically sourced. Their mustard supply alone is worth the trip. Best sandwich?
Madill – house roasted turkey, Nueski applewood smoked bacon, avocado, tomato, romaine lettuce, Mudgie-made garlic mayo and melted pepper Jack cheese on an 8 “ sub bun served warm – voted into Detroit’s Top 21 Sandwiches List, Detroit Free Press, March 2008 – $9.50 lg / $7.50 sm
Also amazing is their famed dessert, the fudgie mudgie. It’s a ghiradelli brownie waffle, topped with Calder’s vanilla ice cream, hot fudge and walnuts. This is what it looks like. Disclaimer: I am not responsible if you buy a ticket to Detroit after seeing this photo.
Walnuts cost extra and this person evidently doesn't like walnuts which makes them awful because walnuts are amazing
Union Street: 4145 Woodward Avenue at Willis Street. 313.831.3965. Reservations recommended. Union Street has awesome burgers, awesome fries, awesome Spanish coffees and is right across the street from Garden Bowl
Cass Corridor
Cass Cafe: 4620 Cass Avenue at Forest. 313.831.1400. Cass Cafe isn’t just a restaurant, it’s a complete state of mind, a great place to go drinking between classes, and one of my favorite galleries in the city. Cass has amazing food. It’s thrilling. The best burger I’ve ever had in my life that I haven’t made myself is from Cass Cafe and that’s their pub style angus steak burger ($7). Well, actually, it’s tied with the Good Stuff Burger at Good Stuff Diner on 14th and 6th in NYC. Besides the point! PBR’s are $2, but it seems like every time I’m there it’s dollar PBR night, which, let’s face it, is swell. The art is hit or miss, but that’s what makes it so great. It’s all local artists just putting themselves out there. My favorite was a charcoal drawing of a brisket I saw a few months back.
Le Petit Zinc: 1055 Trumbull Street. 313.963.2805. There’s a bit of a rivalry amongst those who like their crepes from Le Petit Zinc and those who like them from Good Girls Go To Paris, but the fact of the matter is, they’re equally good. Le Petit Zinc wins out though for smelling like French cheese all day long. The stench is so strong, in fact, that you too are bound to smell like French cheeses for the rest of the day. I think that’s a plus. Others don’t, and those people get their crepes from Good Girls.
Lafayette Coney Island: 118 W Lafayette Blvd. 313.964.8198. Do not, I repeat do not be tricked by American Coney Island’s glitz and glamor. Its shady, gross-looking next door neighbor is the best Coney Island in the city. Dirt cheap food, bad service and weak coffee are the hallmarks of all Coneys, but there’s something special, something, well, right about Lafayette.
Yummy Heart Attacks Are Yummy: Coney Islands from Lafayette Coney Island
Traffic Jam and Snug: 511 West Canfield at Second. 313.831.9470. Splendorinda said it best:
I wish I could order the waiters off the menu
Traffic Jam is not a place you go to for food, it’s a place to go to for the eye candy. Yes, the food is good, but it’s a little on the pricey side. The best thing about it is the dairy and bakery in the Snug portion, but it seems like everyone who works at Traffic Jam is impossibly gorgeous (I haven’t been in a while, so this may have changed, but I doubt it). They mix their drinks on the strong side and, being a brewery, have a great selection of beers, the best being the amazingly named “Don’t Touch My Junk”
Pizza from Niki's
Niki’s: 734 Beaubien at Lafayette 313.961.4303. Yes, I just threw a fit the other day about how I quit Niki’s, but the point stands: This is the best pizza in Detroit proper and third best in Metro Detroit. Detroit pizza, if you will, is a miraculous blend of Chicago and New York that just works. Traditionally, it’s a square pizza, what New Yorkers call “Sicilian Style” with a good amount of cheese and sauce. It’s nice and crunchy, and when in pie form, it’s just a little thicker than New York slices. The only pizza in New York that I’ve found can compare is a Sicilian pizza from Rizzo’s in Astoria. Yes, I have to go to Queens for pizza. Queens, people.
Greektown
Astoria Bakery: 541 Monroe at Beaubien 313.963.9603. Best damn bakery in the whole wide world. Get your dessert there after pizza at Niki’s and before gambling your life savings away at Greektown Casino.
Slows BBQ: 2138 Michigan Avenue at Wabash. 313.962.9828. A little on the pricey side, but, sooooo good. Ribs and Mac. Make it happen, yo.
Suburbia:
Alibi Pizza: 6700 Rochester Road at South Blvd in Troy, Michigan. 248.879.0014: Best pizza in all of Metro Detroit and, therefore, the world. Granted, I grew up on this stuff, but it’s totally true.
Como’s: 22812 Woodward Avenue at Nine Mile in Ferndale, Michigan. 248.548.5005. Second best pizza in Metro Detroit. Get it with feta and pepperoni because that’s the way to do it, yo. With a great atmosphere and location in the heart of Fabulous Ferndale, its no wonder that the restaurant is hugely popular and a great meeting place during Motor City Pride. I broke up with someone here once, but it didn’t taint my love for their pizza! Seriously, it’s real good.
A variety of pizzas from Como's. Como's pizza is more similar to NY pizza than Chicago on the Detroit pizza scale.
Original Pancake House: 33703 Woodward Avenue at 14 Mile Road in Birmingham, Michigan. 248.642.5775. They don’t take reservations and if you plan on showing up after 9am, you better be ready for at least a half hour wait and ten minutes waiting outside. That’s how good this place is. The coffee’s whatever, but their pancakes and crepes are just the bees knees. The best thing on the menu though (It’s awful as takeout. Come with an appetite big enough to eat it in one sitting) is the famed Big Apple. It’s basically a deep fried apple pancake in, like, a million layers. It’s guhmazing.
The Big Apple
Drink:
Oslo: 1456 Woodward Avenue at John R. 313.962.7200. What’s cool about this unassuming sushi bar is its kinda trendy looking mini-club downstairs. The drinks are great, and the best night to go is First Friday’s for Adriel Thornton’s Fierce Hot Mess party, a little retro gay hipster bacchanal. Michael Trombley throws a similar party, but with a disco theme at the R&R Saloon on the last Saturday of every month. They can be a little hit or miss on the crowd, but the music is simply grand at both parties.
FHM @ Oslo
Atlas: 3111 Woodward Avenue at Charlotte. 313.831.2241. Great little unassuming bar with decently priced, strong drinks. That’s all. Nice place to go with friends at the end of the day.
d’Mongos Speakeasy: 1439 Griswold at Clifford. No phone number. Same as Atlas, but only open on Fridays. D’Mongos stays afloat though by being absolutely insane on Friday nights and you’re always bound to meet someone interesting.
d'Mongos
Menjos: 928 McNichols at Pontchartrain Blvd. 313.863.3934. Menjo’s is a terrible, terrible club that I sort of am in love with. It’s like Splash in Chelsea, but so much worse. So much worse. The crowd? Whatever. Not my kind of gays, the drinks are cheap, though. Two dollar wells on Thursdays which is the best night to go anyway, and a house drag queen whose schtick is boring after you’ve seen it so many times. I don’t know why I love such an awful place, but I do and, yet, I find myself cringing every time I’m dragged by a friend to Splash or, even worse, Rush, ugh.
Los Galanes: 3362 Bagley at 23rd. 313.863.3934: Great Mexican food, but this is in Drink for a reason. Las Galanes’ happy hour is the best thing in the whole wide world. Three dollar margaritas from 3-6 and boy are they strong! You’ll need a designated driver after two, for sure.
Do:
Great Hall @ The DIA. Photo by Tom Pidgeon for the NYTimes
Detroit Institute of Arts: 5200 Woodward Avenue. 313.833.7900. Detroit’s preeminent art museum is also one of the nation’s best. I like to call it the Mini-Met because it has everything, but is a lot smaller than the Met and a lot easier to navigate. Admission is eight bucks and the best time to go is Friday night’s for free concerts (free with admission) and a variety of activities around the museum.
Museum of Contemporary Art Detroit: 4454 Woodward at Garfield. 313.832.6622. The DIA may be the big boy in the Detroit Art World, but MoCaD is the scrappy little upstart that’s got all the buzz. MoCAD (nobody calls it by its full name) is a graffiti marked cube blocks away from the DIA with some of the best curation of a museum in the city. From Rei Kawakubo to the current exhibition of work by Edgar Arceneaux, the museum caters to everything now.
Michigan Central Station: 2001 15th Street @ Roosevelt Park. No phone number. This abandoned Beaux Arts train station designed by the same team who did Grand Central isn’t open to the public, but that doesn’t mean people don’t get in. A huge pastime is sneaking in and exploring the ruin before heading up to the roof to get a great view of the city. A great idea for a self-made tour would be to scout out a series of abandoned buildings and sneak into them all. There’s a lot of them in Detroit!
Inside Michigan Central Station
Theater District: Basically all of Woodward south of Warren. Fun fact! Did you know that Detroit has the largest theater district in the country after Broadway! I bet you didn’t, and we too get lots of Broadway shows. The Fisher just ended In The Heights and starts Les Miserables later this month and you can catch, like, any concert at Saint Andrews, The Majestic, The Filmore and The Masonic amongst other places because everyone stops in Detroit because Detroit is known for two things: Cars and music. There’s also a lot of great independent theaters like Magic Giraffe and The Abreact. The Fox is pretty hit or miss with their material and tends to do a lot of family friendly stuff, but the space is just gorgeous. Seriously:
Lobby @ The FoxView from balcony @ The Fox
The Fox is also known for being the first theater in the country to get the equipment to play talkies! Seriously though, there are so many performance spaces, it’s no wonder a lot of artists are flocking to Detroit. It’s essentially a hyper-cheap Brooklyn.
Heidelberg Projects: 3680 Heidelberg @ Mount Elliot. 313.537.8037. OMFG HEIDELBERG! Tyree Guyton’s open air installation piece with a storied history (the city spent a good deal of time in the 80 and 90s trying to destroy it) is probably the quirkiest place in all of Detroit. Seriously. It’s in a bad neighborhood, so it’s not as popular as it otherwise would be, but it’s just a really colorful, happy place that highlights the downfall of the city (at least, that was my takeaway).
Heidelberg Projects. Photo by Gerry Visco
Eastern Market: Alfred and Riopelle. This is actually a bit of a lie since Eastern Market is a neighborhood, not a strict place. I’m just choosing the center of it as its address. Anyways, Eastern Market is popping in the spring with an amazing flower market as well as other little doodads. It’s just a swell place to be. Its NYC corollary would be the Union Square Farmers Market.
Eastern Market
Other Cool Things in Detroit Proper There’s Just Not Time For
Penobscot Building
The Penobscot Building is one of Detroit's many fine art deco buildings
Detroit Artist’s Market
Garden Bowl
CityClub
CityClub, Detroit's best bisexual industrial goth nightclub is in the Leland Hotel, pictured, which also has another club in its basement called Labyrinth
Renaissance Center (a study in how not to design a building!)
Meeting me for karaoke at Soho Bar in Ferndale on Wednesdays!
Lots of other great stuff too! Go buy a book about the city!
Special Events of Interest
January: North American International Auto Show
May: Detroit Electronic Music Festival (DEMF)
June: Motor City Pride
August: Woodward Dream Cruise
The Woodward Dream Cruise is when everyone brings out their classic cars and cruises down Woodward Avenue
September: Tour de Troit Bicycle Race
November: Turkey Trot 5k/10k Run Through Downtown
Winter: Ice Skating in Campus Martius
It’s a super town with a lot of super things and a lot of super people, but you’re going to need a car and you’re going to need to be okay with the fact that you can’t change your mind on a whim because everything is really spread out, but, seriously, give it a chance. It’s just like Brooklyn, only with more cars and better music (I said it). Beware during winter. It gets cold. So cold.
I love San Francisco. Like any big city, we have our problems. Yes, we are on occasion a bit preachy and sanctimonious. Our politics can be screwy. We get made fun of for stuff like the Happy Meals kerfuffle. But great things happen here also, sometimes this can be a downright exciting city to live in.
Not only is it a lovely city to live in (most of the time), it’s a wonderful city to visit. Apologies for the length (and number of Italian restaurants, but hey – it is San Francisco), and away we go. Continue reading →
Hi gang. Thanks for dropping in. Please start by reading this. Yes, I know most of you have read it, but just take one more look to humor me. The purpose of tonight’s workshop is for us to brainstorm and share ideas for post topics. Please post any ideas you’ve had or things you would like feedback on. To make this work it is essential that we give one and other feedback so please reply to each other. Here are a few suggestions from Dogs of War, the wisest man on Crasstalk:
Featured artists
Original short stories
How-to
Adventurous travel
Luxury – how the other half lives
Affordable luxury – How to have some of the better things in life without paying a lot
Technology how-to
TV show recaps
Hopefully, that can get us started, and I know many of you already have ideas you are knocking around. Let’s get to work.
Oh, and here’s a few more tips:
When you’re done set the status to Pending Review.
If you see me editing your post then don’t make any changes while I’m editing because it will wipe out all of my changes when you do that (there is a warning at the top if someone else is editing a post).
Your post needs to have an “image thumbnail” that is hosted on Crasstalk.
Don’t use HTML tags in the “Visual” editor.
Preview your post to see how it looks. Make changes and preview again.
Spell check. Firefox has a built in spell checker.
In the wake of thatgirl’s reading my post here entitled “In Praise Of Older Men,” she and I got into a lengthy discussion regarding the dynamic of our mutual attraction to men significantly older than ourselves. Our conversation soon came around to the topic of having affairs or relationships with involved or married men. We decided to co-author this somewhat revealing first-person piece based on each of our own experiences.
While I have always said to myself that I would never get involved with a married man (and I never have), my now long-term boyfriend was involved with another woman when we met. He and I both managed to assiduously avoid our undeniable attraction for each other for four months. But it was certainly a “resistance is futile” situation of tremendous mutual lust for both of us, and his relationship with his girlfriend ended very soon after he and I got together. (I was single when he and I met.)
I have heard it said many times that it’s “not as bad” to have a sexual liaison with a man who is merely involved and not married, because marriage is a deliberate, lifetime commitment, and there are often also children caught in the emotional crossfire. I understand this rationale, but honestly, I think there’s a fundamental breach of personal integrity involved regardless. Granted, it’s of a comparatively different degree, but I felt guilty for what I had done nonetheless. Many years later, it’s now a moot point.
I’ll never forget meeting my boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend for the first time, soon after they separated. He had gone by to pick up a few things he’d left at her place, and I’d gone along for the ride, as we had plans together later on in that general direction. Naively, I had assumed that if I stayed in the car, there would be no drama. As my boyfriend exited the car and walked towards her house, I saw his ex leaving her house, walking as if to meet him halfway. As she handed him the last of the toiletries he’d left at her place, she took a long hard look at me sitting in the car and admonished him, “How could you? She’s young enough to be your daughter.” (It sounds like something out of a Lifetime movie script, but it really happened. I felt about two feet tall at the time.)
As someone who has been cheated on before, I can say that I should have known better than to pursue someone who was involved with someone else. Certainly, I would make better choices now than I did when I was in my twenties. But, I have no lasting regret, because my relationship has been very enduring, enjoyable and worthwhile. Both my boyfriend and I have lived and learned from our past mistakes. What I wonder is why we – people in general, not just women – are so drawn to others who are seemingly unattainable. I’m sure there are mental health professionals all over the world who are still pondering that moral, ethical and highly individual enigma.
thatgirl:
I don’t think most people set out to form liaisons with unattainable/ unavailable people—at least not consciously. There’s more than one kind of unavailable, as well. The married or otherwise committed sort of unavailable is fairly easy to spot. They’re the guys who list “discreet” as their status via online dating sites; they’re the ones you meet over cocktails, and describe their marriages as “unhappy”, or they’ll insist that the divorce is all done but for the signatures on papers.
The other kind of unavailable was touched upon by MissLinda last week in her “IRL” dating post: people who are either emotionally incapable of an adult relationship, or those who, unknowingly, give off the “Not interested” vibe. This story is about the former kind.
A late spring in Rome saw me fall for a man 30 years my senior. Giovanni was world-wise and patient—a hand holder and door opener, which was so unlike the guys I was used to meeting in my early 20s. He had time for four-hour dinner dates, second bottles of wine, and bedtime phone calls from wherever he was traveling, in whatever time zone. It was an immediately enveloping and fiery liaison. Flowers and air tickets would appear at my building, and I’d drop everything, including my work to meet him, anywhere.
Months of excitement gave way to exhaustion, and the reality that I couldn’t keep up a developing career, and a love affair of international intrigue. I longed for a consistent sleep, more than a week or so in the same time zone, and time with friends. With Giovanni’s assurance that his business required the globetrotting, I ended it. Not one to take “no” for an answer, his invitations continued, unabated, until my overflowing voicemail box told him not to expect a response.
A business meeting months later brought us back together, if only for one more torturous afternoon of him begging me to come back. He almost tempted me, but I was resolute that I’d have my life on my terms. A flight awaited that would take me to a trade show, where a new love interest said he’d meet me over the weekend. I was walking down the jetway when an unfamiliar number came up on my phone. I answered it, only to meet my ex-lover’s wife. Who knew he had one stashed far away, on the North Shore of Chicago?
She scolded me for getting involved with someone so much older, telling me that I had my whole life in front of me. And besides, she added, he was a notorious philanderer, and would only wind up cheating on me. “Perhaps he is,” I replied, “but he’s your problem now!” and I promptly hung up. Giovanni spent the next 48 hours filling my voicemail box, begging me to return…and to never again talk to his wife.
This was a bit before we started Googleing people or otherwise checking the background of potential paramours. Considering all the time I’d spent with him, Giovanni’s intact marriage did come as a surprise. I did feel for his wife, who’d clearly been down this road with him prior. I chalked it up to my youth, and being drunk on the adventure, but I made it a point to avoid obligated men going forward—to the degree that anyone could.
Now I’m trying to help a girlfriend wean herself off the allure of her married lover. Part of me feels that her self-esteem prevents her from seeking something that’s better for everyone in the equation. Unfortunately, lover-man is happy to hang on, as long as she’s willing. She’s smart, funny, and over 40. I’m refraining from comparing her to Carrie Bradshaw… but perhaps that’s her story to tell.
When I casually spoke the short sentence, it felt true to me. But even though it was “merely” a lie of omission, I still sensed that I was walking on a very fine tightrope. Before this, I’d always felt certain of my unassailable honesty.
“He slept in that bed”, I replied, pointing to the twin futon in my large studio apartment. My response was to my current lover’s query as to where my overnight guest had lain his head the previous evening and night.
While it was wholly true that he had slept in that bed, almost immediately prior to that, he and I had had sex on this bed: mine. The fact that he was my most-enduring friend, my first lover, and someone whom I’d only slept with a dozen times over seven years didn’t matter at all to my current beau. Nor did it matter to him that his obvious judgment of me was steeped in unconscious hypocrisy: after all, he was sleeping with someone else as well. Yet somehow to him, I became the betrayer.
Sex with my ex had been a clear display of my own immaturity and insecurity. The sex had also been far less mind-blowing than that which I already shared with my current lover. But earlier the previous evening, when I had called my beau, his other lover answered the phone. So I took that as a sign that my twice-yearly reunion with my ex should definitely take a sexual turn. Spite-fucking is rarely pleasurable, but sometimes it feels more satisfying than doing nothing at all.
At last, I felt the scales had been balanced, and all was right in my universe. I disagree with the adage ” revenge is a dish best served cold.” I think that sometimes, justice is a dish best served erotically sweltering. I knew that my beau loved me, as I loved him, but until that point, my entreaties for him to be monogamous with me had fallen on deaf ears. Unsurprisingly, not long after my conjugal visit with my ex, my current lover told his girlfriend about me, and they separated soon after. My actions weren’t deliberately devious, but they clearly served a purpose in the grand scheme.
“Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies…” – Fleetwood Mac
Disclaimer: this salad will give you dragon breath for the rest of the day (or the morning after if you choose to have it for dinner). It is still delicious. Feel free to chop the ingredients to whatever size you prefer.
Greek Salad
Prep time: 10 minutes
Serves two
Ingredients
2 plum tomatoes, chopped into large chunks
1/2 cucumber, sliced thick
1 green pepper, chopped
1/4 white onion, sliced
black olives, can be whole or sliced
crumbled Feta (as much or as little as you want)
1/4 cup olive oil
juice of 1 lemon (or 3 tablespoons lemon juice)
1/2 tablespoon dried oregano
salt and pepper to taste
Directions
Combine vegetables in a large bowl. In a small bowl, combine olive oil, lemon juice, oregano, salt, and pepper. Whisk to form dressing. Pour dressing over vegetables and mix together five minutes before serving. Top with lots (or a little) feta cheese, and serve with warm pita or flatbread. If you want, you can add sliced grilled chicken and make a larger meal out of it.
With the (non-stop) snow and cold I decided to treat myself to scalloped potatoes last week. But, then I saw that our grocery store had leeks on sale, only 99 cents each. So, I decided to really treat myself, and make a potato-leek gratin. The main difference between the two, is that a gratin involves a cooked cheese sauce, whereas scalloped potatoes just involve putting layers of potato and onions in a casserole and pouring milk over the top.
Before I got to the sauce, I had a lot of prep to do – and a new toy to cut with. For Christmas my husband bought me a mandolin. An actual mandolin.
I had wanted one for years, because my knife skills are lackadaisical at best. However: a) I’m ridiculously accident prone; and b) I like to drink while I cook dinner.
You can see how that could be problematic.
But, my husband assured me when I opened the mandolin on Christmas, that it has an excellent safeguard. So, last week I happily went into the kitchen, poured myself a glass of wine, and started prepping potatoes on my new gadget.
The gratin was perfect – cheesy and slightly fruity from the leeks and wine. And the trial run with the mandolin was a success. It was fantastic to not run across randomly undercooked potatoes for once, and (despite my wine consumption) I didn’t hurt myself at all.
Potato-Leek Gratin:
4 medium Yukon Gold potatoes (sliced as thinly and evenly as you can)
2 sliced leeks (white and pale green parts only)
2 cups of shredded swiss cheese
2 tablespoons of olive oil
½ cup of white wine
3 tablespoons of flour
2 cups of warm milk (Heat in the microwave for 2 minutes)
½ cup of shredded Parmesan
Black pepper to taste
Pre-heat the oven to 375 degrees.
Saute the leeks in the olive oil and white wine for 5 minutes. Add the flour and stir for 1 minute, then add the milk. When the lumps of flour have smoothed out add the swiss cheese in small batches stirring constantly until the cheese is integrated into the sauce.
Layer the potatoes in a buttered casserole dish and alternate with the cream/leek mixture. When you reach the top layer of sauce on potatoes sprinkle the Parmesan on top. Cover with foil and bake for 25 minutes, then remove the foil and bake until the potatoes are soft and the top is brown.
The most awkward and painful discussions health professionals have is the conversation about end of life care. Working in Geriatrics, I often have this conversation with family members or even friends of patients who are not able to make their own decisions. Even in the best of circumstances, when the patient’s wishes are generally known, it is a difficult call to make. In the absence of any idea of what that person may have wanted, it can be heart-wrenching. In America, which is an especially ‘death denying’ culture, most people don’t want to think about, never mind plan for, their own death. But without clear Advanced Directives and and a Health Care Proxy you can trust, you risk having your final days be everything you never wanted – including a protracted, bitter battle amongst family members, a la Terri Schiavo.
The first thing you must do is admit that you will die. And it may not happen the way you would like or when you expect. You may become incapacitated for a period of time before death and be unable to direct your care or make decisions. This may happen from an accident or a heart attack or stroke. You may also develop dementia or another neurological condition that impairs your cognition. Any of these situations may happen at any time, so even if you think you are too young to think about this – you’re not.
Secondly, you must find a Health Care Proxy. A Health Care Proxy (HCP) is a person you appoint to make decisions about your care on your behalf. It is, in most cases, extremely simple to do this. Your doctor or hospital will have forms or you can find the forms on the internet. You simply fill out the forms, have them signed and witnessed and give copies to your HCP and your alternate, your health care provider, attorney and/or any one else who will be available to provide these forms to your medical providers if you become ill. There are also online registries, which for a fee, will archive your HCP paperwork or Living Will. Generally speaking, without an HCP, most hospitals and facilities will default decision making to your next of kin. However, that can easily get sticky and complicated should there be disagreement among family members or if long term relationships are not recognized by the laws of the state in which you become ill and seek care. It is not unheard of for facilities to seek to have a legal guardian appointed, should the family situation become unstable. Then you may end up with a stranger making decisions for you.
I will note here as well, that you do not have to appoint your legal next of kin as HCP. If you are not appointing your spouse, I would recommend that you have that discussion with them and involve an attorney in drawing up the papers.
Choosing an HCP should be done with care. You want to pick someone who will follow your wishes. It is important to note that your HCP does not have to abide by your wishes. The HCP you choose should understand and accept your wishes regarding end of life care and promise to act accordingly – even if your medical providers or other family/friends do not agree and pressure them to act otherwise. Also make sure you are using the appropriate paperwork for the state in which you reside or frequent. State requirements for HCP and Advanced Directives do vary. If you travel frequently, a trip to an estate attorney may be in order to obtain a durable power of attorney for healthcare decisions that will be iron clad wherever you roam.
Which brings us to Advanced Directives. I will go into great detail about all the decisions you will need to make in my next post. As a general overview, Advanced Directives are your written wishes about what kind of care you would want if you were unable to make your own decisions. The more specific, the better. Simply saying ‘no heroic measures’ is way too open to interpretation. In my next post, I will review the options and share with you my own Advanced Directives document.
The problem with Advanced Directives, however, is that they do not carry the force of law. It is simply a statement that you make regarding your philosophy of care for yourself. I have unfortunately seen clearly written and properly notarized Advanced Directives ignored, because the HCP or legal guardian had different ideas. But don’t let that stop you from writing them! The more information that is out there about what you want, the better. And all the more reason to pick your HCP with care and discuss your wishes with them
You don’t need an attorney to fill out paperwork for an HCP, however if your situation is complicated (e.g., not appointing your spouse, same sex couple in most states, long term unmarried couples) you may want to consult an estate attorney. It’s also a good idea to appoint someone to be responsible for your finances as well and draw up a will while you’re there.
My next post will explore the decisions you need to make – DNRs, feeding tubes, etc. Also, please let me know if there is any other information you would like to know.
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