Author Archives: Radar

…on October 9, 1940 – John Lennon was born. He should be here to celebrate this milestone with his wife and son, but he is not. He hasn’t been around for a very long time. But I am not focusing on that today. I am here to wish John a Happy Heavenly Birthday. And I’m wondering what he would have thought and said about the world today. John preached peace and love to anyone who would listen. He was an activist and a peacemaker. He lived the songs he wrote as a very young man as a Beatle:  “All You Need is Love” and his anthem “Imagine” – written oh so many years ago – still resonates today around the world. He wasn’t perfect. He was just a man. But he influenced an entire generation, and still does so today, with his agenda on peace, love, and non-violence. He spoke through his music, and as a solo artist after his career with the Beatles, he did not pander to the establishment. He said what he wanted and wrote the kind of songs he wanted, rather than doing what he was “supposed to do” for the record companies. While others were churning out bubblegum pop, John was sharing his thoughts and views on the world and trying to open the eyes and minds of a new generation. I can see him marching today as he did back then for the causes he believed in – yet at the same time, most importantly, condemning the violence wholeheartedly and with no regret. He knew that reacting to the triggers that are put out there is exactly what is expected to make you stay where you are. He never fell for that. He loved this country, and particularly fell in love with my hometown of New York City. He fought long and hard – and won – for the right to stay in this country too, when that same establishment tried to run him out. He, along with the Beatles, and on his own, forever changed the face of music – the look, the sound, the message…wonder what artistic treasures he would have given us in the last 40 years. Happy Heavenly 80th Birthday, John. Still miss you and wish you were here.

The word “maestro” refers to a “distinguished musician” – although it’s usually used in classical music. If it were applied to a guitar player in the genre of Rock ‘n Roll, the world definitely lost one today. Eddie Van Halen, one of the greatest guitar players of all time, passed away today at the age of 65 after a long, arduous battle with cancer. The son he had from his marriage to actress Valerie Bertinelli, shared the loss of his beloved dad via social media, saying “I don’t think I’ll ever fully recover from this loss.” Anyone who has lost a parent knows that is true – you never really, truly get over it. For the music world and fans of the group Van Halen, it is also a devastating loss of a legendary musician known all over the globe. I never had the privilege of seeing Van Halen perform live, and some hardcore fans of the band would probably not like the fact that my favorite album of theirs is “1984”. With a virtuoso like Eddie known for his phenomenal guitar riffs, the introduction of the synthesizer into their unique sound bothered some fans. Still, the album sold millions, and for me, my memories of it bring me back to the summer of 1985 and my first trip to my ancestors’ hometown in Hungary. The young adults and teenagers in the small town in Communist Eastern Europe craved ANYTHING American that they could get their hands on: shoes, tshirts, and – of course – American music, especially Rock ‘n Roll. Relatives of the same age group brought cassette tapes of the latest albums with them on their visit. Along with “Born in the U.S.A” by Bruce Springsteen, “Scarecrow” by John Mellencamp, “She’s So Unusual” by Cyndi Lauper, and “War” by U2 – 1984 by Van Halen was one of the ones that we played the hell out of – every chance we got. Definitely every night hanging out in the pub. One of the locals had a shirt with the 1984 album cover emblazoned on the front, and he wore it like ALL the time. Before we learned his name, we referred to him as “the kid in the Van Halen tshirt”. That’s just one memory, just one moment in time, and has very little to do with the death of Eddie Van Halen today. However, to put it into perspective – what a living legend this guy really was – kids in a tiny Eastern European village under a Communist regime who couldn’t speak English – even they knew who Eddie Van Halen was. And how great he was. And they are mourning today too. Because, like all of us, they are remembering their youth, and how the music made them feel. And they are getting lost back in time, listening to those songs again. And, of course, it’s not the same as losing your father, but they too are probably never going to fully recover from this loss. Godspeed, Edward. Fly high. And thanks for the amazing music.

As I enjoy my first cup of coffee for the day, I’m going to add a little venting to that. One of the first things I saw this morning was a woman dropping off her child at my neighbor’s daycare across the street. I was sitting on my couch, front door open due to the gorgeous weather, and I heard the distinctive sound of a plastic bottle hitting the ground. And then the slamming of a car door. I got up and looked out my front door just in time to see the young mother pulling off. And there, on the ground under where her car had been parked, was the empty plastic bottle that she had nonchalantly thrown out of her car. There were a total of FIVE trash cans within walking distance of this woman – one of which she walked right past as she came down the steps after dropping off her kid. Unfortunately, I see this kind of thing on a daily basis. I love New Orleans, but it is the dirtiest city I have ever seen. And it’s because of people like this: lazy, selfish, pigs who obviously care nothing about the world around them, let alone other people. I have a very visceral reaction to witnessing someone throw their trash on the ground. What I would REALLY love to do is pick it up, run after their car, catch them at the red light, and fling their garbage back in the car right at their face. But, since that sort of thing is frowned upon, more often than not – on my street at least – I pick up somebody else’s garbage and throw it away. It’s been suggested to me that these kind of people “weren’t raised right – they weren’t taught.” Well, these are grown adults who SHOULD have common sense and decency – it’s not MY job to teach them, especially at this stage of their lives. But they DON’T have decency and they DON’T have common sense. They are basically just selfish, lazy, disgusting pigs who don’t give a crap about anybody but themselves and their own comfort and convenience. It is because of people like this that the city of New Orleans is as filthy as it is. I was born and raised in one of the largest metropolitan areas in the country – New York City – and that city of over 8 million people is CLEANER than a city of less than half a million. I’ve been known to walk with a crumpled up tissue or some other small piece of trash in my hand on the street until I see a garbage can. My parents raised me right. I would NEVER even THINK about throwing ANYTHING on the ground, let alone actually do it. You know what I do with the trash that’s in my car? It gets tucked away in one of those little side pockets on the driver and front passenger doors, and when I get home, I grab a bag to put it all in and then throw it out in my house or my outside trash can. I’ve seen people throw entire bags of fast food remnants out of their car windows. Human beings are some of the most disgusting creatures on the planet. With all the talk about global warming and climate change, I think we should start with something simple like not throwing trash on the ground. Where do you think that all goes? Well, first off, it gets blown or washed from the gutters into the storm drains. Then you wonder why your street floods when there’s a heavy rain? The saddest part of this whole thing is, I keep thinking about that little girl who got dropped off at daycare across the street. Unfortunately, she may be furthering the lack of care for the world around her because she has a mother who is showing her that it’s okay to just throw garbage on the ground. All we can hope for is that she will be around other people during her day who will show her the right way of doing things – perhaps like her daycare provider. This is a hot button issue with me, so much so that I want to scream at people on the street when I see them do this. Instead, I mutter to myself under my breath, bite my tongue – and pick up someone else’s trash.

Don’t worry – we were both wearing masks. My husband and I went to one of our favorite watering holes, the Deutsches Haus, for the “covid version” of their annual Oktoberfest. No live music, crowd size control, masks, social distancing. It was very surreal. The last time I had been at the Haus was Friday, March 13th – my last normal day. Pardon my language, but how fucked up is that? That the most “unlucky” superstitious day of the year would be the last normal one. It had been a brutal week at work. The pandemic had just begun rearing its ugly head, and it was beginning its heartless assault on the hospitality and tourism industry in New Orleans. Not sure about what exactly would happen, clients began postponing or cancelling their events that week. It seemed like every 15 or 20 minutes, I was sending out an email entitled “Event Cancelled” to our internal staff. Parties were dropping like flies. When my husband picked me up at the end of the day on that Friday, my first words were, “I need a drink.” And I wanted to go to the Haus. So off we went, and we sat at the bar (remember that?) And we were able to visit with the bartender, one of our very good friends, April. She also sits in front of us in our section at the Superdome as a fellow season ticket holder. So there was the requisite German beer, and a couple of shots of my go-to Slivovits (Serbian plum brandy – sounds more delicate than it really is; it’s basically grain alcohol). Of course, we ate some delicious German food for dinner, and we got to see a few of the other regulars. We also, as is common, struck up conversations at the bar with some new people who had never been there before. It was a great night and exactly what I needed after such a rough week in the office. After that, the coronavirus spiraled out of control and wreaked havoc on just about everything you could imagine. There’s SO much to tell about those first early days and the months that have followed. But that will wait for another post. The Haus re-opened its doors at the end of May, with covid protocols, but I had to psych myself up to go. I wanted to support one of my favorite local businesses, but I just didn’t want to deal with all the restrictions. It wasn’t going to be the same, and I wasn’t going to be able to enjoy myself. Well, I finally broke down this weekend, and it wasn’t as bad as I thought. But it was surreal, and bittersweet – wearing a mask unless you are at your table, no sitting at the bar, standing in line to wait your turn to order your drinks, no congregating at other people’s tables, music being played over a speaker as opposed to live. I think that’s what hurt me the most. Not seeing the band on stage, the crowds of revelers singing and dancing…it was almost as dead as the cemetery next door. But the best part of the night was when my friend April came out from behind the bar, and we shared a long, tight, warm hug. We hadn’t seen each other since March 13th. I cried, of course. All the months of anxiety and uncertainty coursing through my veins…so much of it is still ongoing. But it felt SO good to hug my friend. We had talked about it before it happened. Weird, I know. Everything in this world is weird right now. But the physical touch of another human being, the hug from a friend – I believe that is what the world is craving most of all. It was good to see my friend. And like she said to me a couple of times, this ISN’T going to last forever, and it IS going to get better and go back to normal. I sincerely hope so, and I cannot wait for that day. In the meantime, there was lots of German beer and a couple of shots last night as well. I drank too much. Some things NEVER change…

Exactly one month from today, the next 4 years of the United States of America will be decided by the American people. Be smart. Be educated. Vote on the issues. Look at what has been accomplished and figure out if that’s how you would like this country to proceed. Make sure you understand everything that is going on. Pay attention. What do you want your country to be?

I was desperately trying to stay positive here for awhile, but some days I wake up and the world just disgusts and infuriates me. I know I’m not the only one, and I also know that we are all having those feelings these days for very different reasons. But it makes me sick to wake up to snarky comments about people’s health. And the sad part is, I knew I was going to see that kind of thing before I even looked. I’m so disappointed in so many people. That’s it. I’m done. For now.

So, yesterday, the world lost Helen Reddy. Today, Mac Davis. Past experience dictates that there will be another celebrity passing to come. I do today (and always) hope that’s not the case. But I wanted to take this moment to reflect on and remember these two icons of a different age. Mac Davis wrote songs for the likes of Elvis Presley. But he also had hits of his own; most notably “Baby Don’t Get Hooked on Me” in the early 1970s. He had an easy, laidback persona and manner of singing and was loved by millions when he showcased his own talents. He was considered a country/western star but crossed over into the pop genre as well. Country music was played A LOT in my house, because that was my parents’ music of choice. I would say I have them to thank for my knowledge and appreciation of Mac Davis. The singer we lost yesterday, Ms. Helen Reddy, strikes a very different chord with her passing. I was a pre-teen when her feminist movement hit “I Am Woman” landed on the airwaves, but it was one of those songs that my friends and I listened to over and over again on my little portable record player (along with Delta Dawn, another one of her big hits). As I got older, I appreciated the song in a very different way, even though I never considered myself a full-fledged feminist. In 1979, I was a senior in an all-girls high school and belonged to the modern dance club with my friend Maria Perez-Alvarado. As seniors, that year we were allowed to create a unique dance to perform. Although we might not have been deeply involved in the full choreography, Maria and I were part of a small group from our class who performed a dance to “I Am Woman” for the spring dance show. We wore black leotards with long burgundy wrap-around polyester skirts (it was the 70s, you know – disco and all that). And we did a very dramatic dance rendition of a song that was an anthem for a generation of girls and women. For the rest of my life, every time I hear that song, I will flash back to that moment in time – and try desperately to remember all the moves from our performance. The last time I talked to my friend Maria, we agreed that we would try and see if we could re-create it the next time we get together. Until then…Godspeed, Helen. You too, Mac. Heaven just got even more musical than it already is.

Wow – what a day yesterday was! What a day to launch my blog! Thanks to everyone for your kind words and support. Today would probably be the perfect day to comment on the current political climate, but I have decided to hold off on all of that business for awhile. I wanted to start out my blog with love and happiness – and prayers! Lord, thank you for giving me the talent and opportunity to begin this journey that I’ve wanted to take for a long time. And thank you for giving me the inspiration in the middle of the night for the title. It was definitely a “Eureka” moment! And Lord, please help this land during these turbulent times. We need You now more than ever.

…I have always been able to make myself feel better by writing things down on paper. I started writing in a diary when I was 14 years old. Back then (in the “dark ages” – circa 1975) a diary was an actual little book you could hold in your hand. My first one was orange, and it had a lock and key (because a 14-year-old has deep, dark secrets to protect, ya know). I wrote in it every single day, whether I had something significant to say or not. I continued this daily journaling for about 3 years, and then decided I would write only when something special was happening: an event, a milestone, if something unique had occurred, or if I just needed to vent. Of course, being me, this was more often than not.

I continued on with my journaling at this pace until November of 1983, when a life-changing event put me in a tailspin and broke my soul and spirit (but more on that later). In the advent of the new age – the dawn of the internet and the worldwide web, computers instead of typewriters, email instead of hand-written letters – a simple thing like a young girl’s diary fell by the wayside. I went about my life – I was deep into my first job, going out with my friends, taking trips. I did what any young single person should be doing at that age – I really had fun during my 20s. Then suddenly came marriage, and a few years later a child, and my world evolved into something I could have never imagined at the age of 14. Technology brought social media, and Facebook became my new diary, so to speak. However, I decided to start this blog because my love of the written word has never wavered, and I feel that this way friends and family can read my feelings, opinions, and thoughts on the world only if they truly want to. You won’t be subjected to my rantings on Facebook if all you really want to do is catch up on pictures of your friend’s new pet or baby. Here, I plan to bare my soul and not hold back. Not everyone will like or agree, but I hope to perhaps give anyone who wishes to read an insight to my heart and spirit. I hope for this to be a safe space for me to say whatever I want and not be subject to ridicule.

So…welcome to my world! I hope you come on in and delve into what I hope will also be a place where my writing talent and creativity can be on display.

For the record (from also back in 1975) the first word of my blog title comes from a unique nickname that my cousins and I thought up all those years ago. But again, that’s another story that you will have to wait patiently on…