The Harvey Weinstein verdict is in, with guilty attached to two of the charges. Most of those mentioned in the following story have since passed away, but it’s time to tell what happened. I want my sons to know. And their wives and children. You don’t look the other way. It was the 1980s and I had my dream job. Working in a theater. My position, as business manager, included an array of duties. One was to secure minors and…
She was regal. She dripped with jewels. Her royal standing knew no equal. And she was purple. I don’t know why, but memories of Madam Queen came rushing back yesterday. And not just my affection for the oversized purple plush kitty cat, but how I got her. Madam Queen, or Maddy if you knew her well, was a gift. Not a birthday present, not a Christmas package, one of those “just because” gifts. Grandma Cassidy came to visit shortly after…
Dad stopped in his tracks, inhaled deeply, smiled, and declared: It smells like Mom! No, I didn’t sneak a spritz from the perfume bottle that still sits on her dresser. And I didn’t raid their bathroom cabinet for shampoo or lotion. Even better. Gary and I had a pot roast simmering in the slow cooker. I wish I’d taken a photo of the finished product. But then again, pot roast is not known for its photogenic qualities. Sidenote: If you…
The year was 1991. I was editor of the now-defunct magazine Catering Today. We sponsored a popular “Catering Expo” in New Orleans. The amazing chef and author Julia Child was the keynoter for our “Crystal Pineapple Awards” luncheon that year. It was a memorable experience and we lapped up every word from this American treasure. Ms. Child was 79 years old at the time, but still going strong. When Julia moved from stressing “use real cream and butter – but…
I kid you not: a big star once invited my Grandpa Cassidy to go on the road with him. And not as a security officer – as a tap dancer! Mom’s sister, Bunny, just shared this story with us last week, when Gary and I were visiting Dad in Connecticut. Poor thing, I think I asked her to repeat the story three times – I just couldn’t believe it! Grandpa was a “cop on the beat” in New Haven, Connecticut….
Today is February 10, which marks the anniversary of the moment Gary and my paths first crossed in 1981. I recently came across a one-page narrative that I frankly don’t remember writing. Long before blogs existed and long after I’d given up on hand-writing a diary, I must have felt the need to capture thoughts about my personal transformation. This was written shortly before Gary and I married; something had truly changed: I’d sooner die than move to Indiana! Not…
Today is World Read Aloud Day. Reading out loud is a tradition in my family. Growing up, Mom read to us every night. As I got older, I read to her as she ironed Dad’s shirts and other wrinkly items before the age of wash-and-wear cotton blends. Together, Mom and I enjoyed The Borrowers, The Secret Garden, and so many other classics. And so, when James was in third grade and his teacher started reading one chapter of The Tale…
Although Facebook can be an irritation, there are certainly some worthwhile finds. For example, the Hollywood Page of Death. There’s something whimsical about “Hollywood Page of Death” popping up daily in my feed. The content is close to what you’d find on Wikipedia (in fact, it may be an edited version of their content). It’s a nice (if slightly macabre) way to learn about – or remember – stories about members of the entertainment biz. This morning’s reminder that entertainer-extraordinaire…
Today marks the anniversary of the Space Shuttle Columbia disaster. As the shuttle returned to Earth on February 1, 2003, it broke apart upon re-entry to our planet’s atmosphere. The faces in the crew photo, above, express such hope and excitement. The astronauts are full of knowledge and curiosity. And youth. They look so young. Here are their names, from left: mission specialist David Brown. commander Rick Husband, mission specialist Laurel Clark, mission specialist Kalpana Chawla, mission specialist Michael Anderson,…
For as long as I can remember, our family’s lore about my great-grandparents’ emigration from Ireland includes the phrase “they missed the blizzard.” For some reason, I always assumed the blizzard was in Ireland and the newlyweds escaped it. Although blizzards are not entirely foreign to the Emerald Isle, neither are they a regular occurrence. It turns out, the “escape” was on the arrival side. The year was 1888 and in March, America’s northeast was paralyzed by ice, snow, wind,…