January 15, 2023

Pro-Choice

Los Angeles, California

The Chinese curse, May you live in interesting times, has never seemed truer than today. Between the polarization of our politics, the toxicity of social media, and a still-unpredictable pandemic, my thoughts often turn to a long ago TV commercial. Calgon, take me away...

There is respite to be had. For me, dancing helps the most. I simply cannot hang on to the day's news, travails, and confusion during dance movement. Spinning in a space of music, movement, and my partner's face can drop me into an in-the-moment nirvana. It washes the day away. But as Covid is once again rising in our county, post-holidays, we are abstaining from the salsa community who are inexplicably not vigilant regarding any mitigating measures. So I utilize what I can. I meditate. I work out. I write. I cook a little. And these pastimes allow my mind to ponder on much of what I see around me.

The repeal of Rowe v. Wade has been stunning. Not that we never saw the possibility of this, but that it has been wrought on the back of a violent, toxic, imposter religiosity is frightful. Friends blame this on Catholicism -- too many Catholics on the Court. But Biden is a pro-choice Catholic, as are many. Blaming Catholicism is like blaming the US government for Trump. It's not the institution. It's not the party. It's the man. Or in the case of the Church, it is the men. The celebration of Mass in the Catholic church, the one true, original Church, instills the teachings of Christ through a ritual of repetition in prayer and in tradition. But, through centuries it has been corrupted by men. I participate in Mass because I find it enlightening and beautiful, but mostly because it fully functions as a conduit to my connection with God. As an institution, does the Catholic church need to change and evolve? Definitely. But I don't think it should be thrown to the dustbin because some members of its clergy and parishioners have personified evil. Any more than our country should be, because of a wicked man who lied and maneuvered his way into the presidency.

But, getting back to the anti-choice movement; we, on the pro-choice side, are always saying that it is a personal choice to have or not have an abortion. Personal. Choice. You have a right to be free to choose to end or not end a pregnancy. But you should not have the right to take away anyone else's freedom of that choice. That is what we have been saying for decades. Freedom of choice is at the heart of human rights liberalism.

But have we, as liberals, fallen into a quagmire of judgment over other individual choices? I hear some weird criticism amongst my fellow liberals. I am almost at the end of counting on the fingers of one hand the comments guests in my home have made regarding my use of paper products. One commenter's reference to their millennial offspring indicated that they would love to utilize pretty paper plates as I do, but of course their children won't allow it. Won't. Allow. It. This is when I think about having a wall hanging with the universal red symbol for NO over the words: Virtue-signaling.

Don't get me wrong. I am conscious of our environment. I recycle everything that is recyclable. I follow the county guidelines for water usage. I drive an electric car. Frankly, being a person of moderation, I think I do enough. And, not to put too fine a point on it, it is a choice to utilize paper products. It is a choice to marry a same-sex partner. It is a choice to eat meat; to wear what we want; to get tattoos! Are we so bogged down with the misery of our macro culture that we are hyper-focused on the micro? Recently a friend informed me that she keeps a list of middle-aged actresses who she thinks should cut their hair. Was she telling me that in our liberal culture where we accept and support people changing genders we are judgmental about women's hairstyles and clothing after a certain age?

When a comment was recently made at a dinner party in my home regarding my printing something out on paper, I responded that I was using my kids' paper allotment. I have no kids. Interestingly, most of these über-virtue paragons brought resource-sucking progeny into the world. You can't recycle yourself out of the amount of air, water, and trash your next-generation family members will consume and create. Three words for these people: Zero. Population. Growth. Not just a blast from the past, but something they might be thinking about before they criticize the choices of others. It was their choice to have children and I am not in any way knocking that. But it is my choice to use paper products in the manner that I do, and to feel justified in that choice, as they are in theirs. We are truly fortunate to have choices in many areas of life, and moderation is a perfectly viable one. Granted, it's no longer the sixties and freedom isn't as it was then perceived, but come on people, can we please at least try to lighten up? Virtue-signalling comes across as an irritating annoyance. And maybe true freedom can only exist in an absence of judgmentalism (however, it would be folly to look for that absence here).

Meanwhile I will continue to print things out on paper, to use paper plates which enable me to create a variety of pretty and fun table settings, and especially, to read hardcover books. As I have often said, I was born under the sign of paper. And, those kids I didn't have are allowing me to use their allotment, as they are generous and nonjudgmental, like all imaginary children. And there is no virtue-signaling in this family. I must have done something right in raising them.

December 31, 2022

The Rickman Rule

Los Angeles, California

In 1964 I knew all of the dialog from The Beatles film, A Hard Day's Night. It would have been interesting to have counted our viewings of this film but suffice to say, we saw it constantly, often in double features with films like George Roy Hill's coming-of-age movie, The World of Henry Orient. But this post isn't about either film. Rather about George Harrison's line from AHDN: It looms large in his legend.

You could accurately say that my birthday looms large in my legend. It's not in my experience that everyone's birthday is such a big deal to them, especially as we age. But I am celebratory by nature. I love Christmas. And Valentine's Day. I love holidays that bring people together. And, I love my birthday which is nestled near Halloween.

They haven't always been good. One spent in a hospital waiting room when my father was in intensive care. One spent mourning a beloved dog, Taz. One spent on the floor in an utter marital capsize. But enough about those. This year Joel and I got to travel together. We got to dance. And I got to celebrate with friends.

My friend, Karen, sent me one of the best birthday gifts I have ever received, because it was such a surprise. She sent me the recently published diaries of the late Alan Rickman, entitled Truly, Madly. I love hardcover books. Once, many birthdays ago, my ex-best friend, Cindy, took apart a pyramid of Katharine Hepburn's memoir at a local Barnes and Noble. An employee rushed to help her. Is there a problem? No, Cindy replied. This is for my friend, Deborah. It has to be perfect. I am so crazed about books that I will not lend hardcovers. I used to, until someone returned one with a ring on the jacket showing it had been used as a drink coaster. The end.

Back to Alan Rickman. I first saw him on TV doing a scene from the play La Liaison Dangerous at the Tony Awards. And there was just something. I have to confess that I have never seen Die Hard, his first film. But one of my favorite, top ten favorite, films is Anthony Mingella's Truly, Madly, Deeply in which he played a ghost or a projection opposite the brilliant Juliet Stevenson.

I wasn't even aware the book had been published, so when I unwrapped it, I was stunned and overjoyed. The first night I fell asleep reading it, so I literally slept with the book. And I devoured it afterwards. I don't believe he ever thought it would be published, which makes it interesting in a voyeuristic way. He candidly and sometimes cattily writes about films, plays, directors, actors, Americans, restaurants, parties, dancing, hangovers, et al. And here is the conundrum. He really lived his life. He ate, he drank, he stayed up late. There is a joie de vivre in the life detailed which is something pretty much alien to our current American way of life. And I felt envy at that. But then, he died at 69. Had he lived like an American: Work first; be hypervigilant about everything you eat; don't drink; get to bed early to get up and work first: I wonder, would he have lived longer? And sacrificing that better-lived, that more eventful life, would it have been worth it?

I recently hosted Thanksgiving and ten people came for cocktails before dinner. Out of the ten, three of us had a cocktail. Everyone else made the difficult choice of still or sparkling after asking for "just water." I don't want to be the person encouraging people to vice. But I do wish for a little lightening up. When did Americans get so uptight about so many things? Even some of those of us from the Woodstock generation would seem to give up a glass of wine for more time on the treadmill.

Concurrently, I've been watching Nigella Lawson on Britbox and have had some laugh out loud moments watching her prepare dishes for herself and friends, that my friends would never in a million years eat! How do you gather friends who are pescatarians, gluten-free, allergic and anorexic to a dinner party?

My friend, Joy, recently hosted a dinner party to celebrate an anniversary. She invited friends who had been at her wedding and she prepared eggplant parmigiana. I laughed when she told me. Will everyone eat that? I asked, thinking of the cheese-free and the eggplant-haters and the oil-phobic. I don't care, she responded. I tell people what I'm serving and if they can't eat it they should bring their own. And I like that. I'm calling it The Rickman Rule or an explanation of The Rickman Rule. The Rickman Rule is actually to eat, drink, and be merry. If you can't do that, why do we want you at our dinner party? You're clearly not someone who could eat and drink with Alan Rickman nor Nigella Lawson. And I think what I got from the book and from watching Nigella on TV is that we all need to lighten up a little. Ok, probably not me. I'm already down with the cocktails and the eggplant parmigiana and the dancing. Totally. Bring. It. On. Life isn't just short. It's shorter.

About Me

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California, United States
Once, I came up with this brilliant idea (well, I thought so, anyway) that the key to happiness was to concentrate on three things -- to choose three interests, then focus and funnel your energy into that trio. I was an English major in college and have always written in some shape or form. So, my first choice was writing. I've always kept journals, and have also written plays, novels, poetry, and shopping lists. I do have a day job. It deals with numbers (assets and finances). Go figure. I went to college at a California University. I live in California, Los Angeles, but not downtown. No children, and sadly, between dogs at the moment (dog person, not a cat person). Enough info? I was going for just enough to not be a cypher, yet not enough to entice a stalker. And, I started my blog after being dragged, kicking and screaming, to do so. Blogs! Read about ME here, right? But I have been advised that this is a way to write regularly, and to put your writing OUT THERE. So, here goes. My name is Bronte Healy. Thanks for reading my blog.