Oh, Liz….  if only.

This, courtesy of poet Jean Pedrick, to Lizzie: “My Love is multi-lateral, And faintly Lady Chatteral, Filled with dog and catteral, Always flying blind. For I love an honest body With a love that’s somewhat shoddy, But my better self, less naughty — Loves an honest mind.” Ever thine, money marbles and chalk. Holland

As for the denizens of Wall St., I am sure there are many fine men and women in that sector. But it is an industry in which greed has become cancerous, and our nation has now, finally, been brought down by them. I wish law suits could be brought against the most egregious offenders, that some funds might be recovered for stockholders and taxpayers, and I certainly think it would be appropriate that we see some of them do jail time. Why the hell do they allow “naked shorting” ever, under any circumstances??? I understand that this allows more shares of stock of a company to be sold than actually even exist. It’s just another thing that kills the chances of the garden variety investor. And the “uptick rule”, which was abandoned this year(!)…another way to screw the regular person trying to invest with a semblance of fair play. It MUST be re-instated. This lack of regulation makes it clear the Pirates are, in fact, the ones in charge. And in the continuing effort of financial companies whose clear aim is to simply squeeze every drop from the most limited of our citizens, how can credit card companies be allowed the have minimum payments which are less than or equal to the interest only? It is so patently evil. This creates a situation in which a not very savvy person can pay the minumum, think he’s “keeping up”, and yet continue to owe the principal for the rest of his life on earth. It’s simply demoralizing to see the obvious intentions of Wall St. and the banks.

Cynthia! This sounds astonishing…especially that no-one is turned away, and that families are supported, if need be, to move close by. I never knew much about St. Jude’s; like the Thomas family, it was always just ‘there’. But thanks to your persistent friend Marlo, I will certainly watch that Nightline Thanksgiving Eve. And…thanks.

Something like 70% of the membership of SAG does not make a living wage from acting, and never has. They have jobs in other sectors and have SAG membership from a minor participation in that field. While many are struggling or beginning actors, a large percentage is firmly employed elsewhere and keep their membership active for their health insurance, or “to keep their hand in”. Yet they will have the same vote on whether or not to strike. These percentages, while not that extreme, also apply to the WGA. There has been a strong and vocal movement within SAG to allow voting for officers and various issues to the full membership, but to restrict just the strike vote to those members whose work participation has, over a period of time, proved a legitimate stake in that workplace. But I don’t observe SAG’s leadership has taken this movement, which is peopled only with regularly working actors and many a name you’d recognize, very much to heart. It’s an interesting discussion. I believe there are a number of major unions in America which do have internal distinctions as to who is reasonably qualified to vote on the extremely critical question of whether or not to strike.

Oh, Lily! I always go to the incomparable “Search for Signs….” when I think of you, and all of your own creations you and Jane have bountifully given us…. and then, Lord, here’s this amazing LIST of characters you’ve performed in other people’s work. You are sensational, and unlike anyone else on earth, which is really saying something. As for the list? All great stuff… but I really miss Debbie Fiderer. What a marvelous personality. Thank you for alllllllll.

Dear Maggi D, You have said exactly what I needed to hear, having been stunned tearless by the above article. Thanks for the oxygen.

Many Senators don’t spend a lot of time doing their senatorial duties, even though the job gives them enormous perks, such as no social security payments, extensive health coverage for life, and serious pensions, not to mention celebrity power. Some Senators apparently think nothing of taking OFF for a year and a half, at least, to spend EVERY WAKING MOMENT running for President. Teddy Kennedy has for decades worked with great dedication, and it would seem, passion, at his JOB: United States Senator. I am full of admiration for him, not only for his efforts, but for his courage in the face of life events which could well have made him bitter and broken, and we wouldn’t have thought less of him. Instead, he has soldiered on, and done good works, a knight in no armour. I wish him well, I hope he may continue his wonderful life’s work, serving his state and the nation.

What a great group! Dear Maurine H —- I want to thank you for the “fresh handkerchief in my pocket” image. From now on that will identify an experience I’ve had variations of since my Mother died, some five years ago. Within a year of her death, I was on my customary dusty hike, at the top of the scrubby hills of Griffith Park, when I was stabbed by the desperately sad thought that I would never hear my Mother’s voice again. At that very moment, I DID hear her voice—- saying “Hi, Honey!” in exactly the tone I recognized from the many times I came home from school, and moped into the house, a plump and wretched teenager. And, as I heard her voice, I saw, filling the great expanse of sky and the valley below, a pale hologram of her smiling face, in her best, most beautiful years, her glamorous forties. She had a smile that belied her own delicacy and moodiness… and now, when I see that smile in my mind’s eye, I irresistibly smile myself. Something I couldn’t do in my miserable teens.

You’re the dearest Kid. Even spittin’ mad. I’d care if you were mad at me. I’d really listen to why. I’d like to hear all the things you’re mad about. I wish you’d throw a fit. I’d draw up a chair. xo

I never knew these sweet flowers were “officially” associated with luck, happiness and renewal…but that is what they were to me, when I was very little, two or three, and would creep around the Rhodadenrons surrounding our house, crouching down with anticipation, to see these darling little dangles of bells poking up from the dark and fragrant earth. They made me happy, and insomuch as a three year old needs reassurance, they made everything all right!

O.K., Mugsy, that story made my eyes water. Another kind of high C.

Joan, the information you share here is so very shocking, but I thank you for it, and also for your very brilliantly expressed outrage. I share it. Poor America. What the Hell has happened to our dear country?

Wonderful post. I’m glad to have a vague thought I’ve had too so beautifully articulated. Surely we experience this “aesthetic crying” typically with music as music is arguably the purest form of communication…but I also feel this way a lot watching dance. The aching moment at the apogee of a leap when the dancer seems to hover, God like, breaking the law of gravity. I wonder, too, at such moments, if our lizard brain is responding as well to the inner knowledge of the untold years of effort and practice and will behind that flight, and that high C.

Oh, Glory! Writer and subject! Thank you.