Rescue Me

While Nora was home for her break from school, we had a chance to go thrifting to a new place in Rye along with our other favorite haunts. I've been avoiding shopping lately for anything other than necesstiies, but three items found their way home with me. The silk square features Edward the VIII's abdication speech (navy blue ink with a pink border- so preppy for 1937), the pale grey top stitched leather gloves (that fit me perfectly) and the Pauline Trigere wool coat cut on the petite side with details that are divine (okay, the label alone stopped me in my tracks). It's a treat to rescue these pieces of history and restore them to a home where they will be used and appreciated.

The Start of Something New (and completely different)

A few months back a neighbor who is a trustee for our village called to ask if I would consider running in the upcoming election as a current trustee was stepping down. I had a lot of questions- including my overall anxiety at campaigning and giving promotional speeches about myself- not something I love to do. But he talked me through it, and reminded me that it was more than likely that I would run unopposed in our heavily Democratic village (meaning I would be required to make only a few appearances to meet and greet my fellow residents in the course of a campaign).

I discussed it with my husband and some good friends all of whom thought it was a great idea. My kids were shockingly okay when I mentioned it as a possibility. So, other than my own concerns over my political inexperience, there proved to be no real obstacles. As my fellow candidates are incumbents, I am the only new kid on the block, and in the end, the Republicans failed to put up any candidates. My "stumping" consisted of securing the nomination at our local Democratic caucus, answering some questions for one of our local papers and appearing at a q. and a. for local candidates at a neighborhood meeting.

Election day arrived today and after dropping our kids off at school I made my way to our local polls to vote. I've seen my name in print before but this foray represents a new way to contribute and use my talents and I'm looking forward to it.

The Real Kids Readers (and Me)

Father and son Walter Dean Myers and Christopher Myers each published a compelling essay in the New York Times yesterday regarding the absence of children of color in children's literature and the adverse impact created by this lack of representation. The harsh reality is in the numbers. (Of 3,200 children’s books published in 2013, just 93 were about people of color according to a study cited by the authors.) 

I was fortunate to be hired in the late '90's to work on a children's books project called  The Real Kids Readers, a series of 48 books for children (Levels 1, 2 and 3) illustrated with photographs. In my role as art director and photographer, I knew the casting had to be multi-cultural and contemporary. Working in NYC meant finding our subjects through a network of modeling agencies and friends. It was a delight to work with such a neat range of individuals. Most of the books are still in circulation and many have been translated in to Spanish. Yet I am the most proud of the diverse kids we found to tell these stories while promoting literacy, fostering role models, and providing entertainment to children and their caregivers everywhere.

When cleaning means remembering

Turns out, years of spending significant time with a camera means that there are more images in my files than I can remember- yet there are some gems that make me stop to recall an afternoon or a trip or a friend from years past.

And shoes, an airplane and subjects combined- eye candy for a shutterbug like me!

Being Conned (It can change you)

In reading the review for Walter Kirn's new book about his friendship with "Clark Rockefeller" I was taken back to when I was conned by a man named "Charles" whom I met when I lived in the West Village. One night back then, I attended an event for the photographer  Andre Kerterz. For a lengthy part of the evening Kerterz stood next to me and was very attentive. (Later I learned that Andre loved girls and always found one to stand next to at gatherings.) Charles told me that upon arriving with a friend in tow they decided to find the prettiest girls in the room and talk to them. So the next thing I knew it was Andre and two gentlemen all smiling at me. 

Charles was an attorney who freelanced as a journalist. He often went out of town to cover politics for the Economist and then eventually left the country to work for them in Italy. One spring afternoon an assistant NYC district attorney called me, he was investigating Charles for fraud (because while he was appearing in court as a  lawyer, he had never gone to law school or taken the bar.) When I told him that Charles was actually in Italy, the d.a. informed me that to the best of his knowledge, Charles had never left town. I was devastated that my boyfriend had been lying to me (and everyone else) about virtually everything. (Charles even staged return trips to NY to see me. To add insult to injury- when I called the Economist, they had never heard of him.) Getting dressed to go meet friends for dinner, I called Charles' home phone and he answered. My heart sank. Everything awful was true.

The next day he agreed to meet me in a nearby park. "Why did you lie to me?" I asked. He gave me an icy look and walked away. I never spoke to him again.

Years later, in the baggage claim at La Guardia, I spotted him at a nearby carousel, awaiting his bags. I did not meet his eyes- although I knew immediately that it was him. Leaving the terminal, I realized that this person who once meant so much to me, now meant nothing. 

And for any of you trusting folks who have had the misfortune of knowing a psychopath better than is recommended, consider yourself lucky when they leave your life- hopefully forever.