Gail's Blog

Mom as a child. My Mother had a secret war. She didn't take it to the streets, or join with others to wage it. In her heart she held beliefs that were mightily opposed to the popular opinion of her time. She taught me that African Americans were not N****s, as the neighbors said. They were "colored people, or Negroes". They were people like us. But she taught these things quietly, as if fearing someone would overhear. The most powerful, long-lasting oppression she held within her was the oppression of Anti-Semitism . She falsified her applications for work after she quit high school because they asked for her religion. She wrote, "Protestant", instead.  In one of her first jobs she was routinely called the "Jew Girl" . This she wanted to avoid in the future. When I was small, she counseled me to never tell anyone I was half Jewish. We lived in a second-generation Roman Catholic neighborhood in Willowick, Ohio. I told, anyway. I thought, if

My mother, before she learned to run like a girl. My mother taught me how to run like a girl. I was outside (we were always outside) playing with girlfriends. We raced each other, and my mom came out from behind the screen door. She said, "You shouldn't run with your fists clenched! You are a girl. You should be more feminine. Here, let me show you." She demonstrated a few adorable steps with hands flapping listlessly beside her.  She stopped and glared at me. "See?" I dutifully practiced, feeling terribly frustrated. How fast can someone run if they to think about how cute they look while doing it? Not very.  I was never able to integrate that pretty, graceful girl my mom had in her mind's eye. And I suspect that those women who were raised in the days of segregated women's and men's employment newspaper ads, and women's news, mostly had difficulty with these superimposed requirements. So when I read Judith Martin's In defense

I have to admit that I have been obsessing about my age lately. I've allowed my hair to go grey because I want to dare to be myself, as God has me right now. Yet I am wondering if God cares that I look older than my peers who color. I don't think she does. Also, I am reasonably fit but I still have droopy skin and a crinkly neck. I work with people who are ALL YOUNGER THAN I, a first in my life. I feel alternately hot and over-the-hill depending on how I'm feeling at any given moment. It is unsettling to feel hot when I really am not. Gail as Older Person I simultaneously want to be as fit and up-to-date as possible to offset my age as well as to just be as I am, sinking into comfortable sloth, gluttony, and evil humor as befits my status as a senior citizen. So I'm ambivalent. My close personal friends from high school might remember that I've always been this way. In adolescence I was a hippie (not going into details) but as a performer I was glamorous.

Watching Ken Burns' "The Roosevelts" on WETA was a deep dip into the wise waters of liberal progressivism, While no one wants government to be "Big Brother", and we all have varying opinions on what Big Brotherism is, I have always had positive feelings about the New Deal. My parents' memories of their own poverty during the Depression, and their belief that FDR was responsible for their being moved to the new, clean public housing projects where they met, certainly influenced my thinking. One of FDR's signature programs in the early '30's was the Works Projects Administration. The above is one of the WPA mosaic tiles built into the walls of the North End Pavilion at Spring Lake (NJ) Beach. That pavilion was totally destroyed by Hurricane Sandy. The tiles, we heard, had been removed for safe-keeping before the storm. The new pavilion is an almost exact replica of the old one, which is such a joy to those of us who thought that a new construc

I'm ashamed to say I don't remember the exact date my friend died. It had to have been in 2008. Maybe someone will correct me. Another family member died a week after her, and it all became a blur. Helen was eighteen years older than I and we met when I was in my early twenties singing professionally at Trinity Cathedral, E. 22d Street in Cleveland. I had hosted a choir party at the house I shared with other students. At that party I got to know Helen and her amazing husband, George (more on that later). Primarily, aside from her honest, direct, passionate personality, I found out that, like me, she was addicted to chocolate. She personally conquered the bowl of M & M's in the living room. She laughingly referred to that event many times, especially when she resorted to Macrobiotics for her Tic Douloureux later. For Helen suffered mercilessly from this little-known neurological illness almost from the day I met her. Helen, George, Ridge (my husband) and I began soci

I have always been a "P", in Myers-Briggs terminology . I am in love with possibilities, like to take in information rather than make decisions, need to stay with the "spirit" (my interpretation). Having my whole week planned with many things to accomplish feels uncomfortable to me. The coming week is all planned up.  It feels as if I only need to follow the plan and I don't have to make any spontaneous decisions. That's an untenable position for me. Tomorrow I go from school to the Kennedy Center for a class on assessment. Oh, how wonderful, you say! How interesting! Yes, it is. But I don't get to choose what to do at the end of the school day. It is already planned. Tuesday evening I go from school to Reston to work, and then to the childcare center where I'm teaching  Art, Music & Movement this half-semester. How cool! How busy and productive. Okay, yes, but it is already planned. I don't get to make any new creative decisions. Then W

Emotional exhaustion is pretty common for me. I am a perfectionist, an HSP (Highly Sensitive Person , an INFP, in Meyers-Briggs terminology, and Adult Child of an Alcoholic , so easily co-dependent, and I am pretty emotional in general. I channeled my emotions into singing opera, concerts, working with other artists, and more recently, teaching young children. I get to use my predilection for silly faces, funny voices, puppetry, miming, dancing, singing, etc. to amuse and instruct children who delight in doing the same. I also love to move, to run, to climb. I do yoga with kids. They are so friendly and interested in my own interests. This is the funny thing I learned by switching from teaching in a preschool to teaching in a Child Care setting. The children become intimately interested in you, and knowledgeable about you. They know what you like, and can read you like a book. Witness the boy who constantly interrupts me, jokes while I'm trying to tell the children somethin