YOU SHOW ME YOUR SUNDAY AND I’LL SHOW YOU MINE

I’ve never met a Sunday I liked. I realize that somewhere there are people who go to church, chat with their neighbors and friends, go home and have a fine big lunch with meat, read the papers, watch some sports on TV, snooze a little, dangle a grandchild, and thus are content with their Sabbath.

Somewhere else there are young couples going to malls with their cute kids, buying things they can make, or wear, stopping off at a fast food palace….driving home in the late sun, bedding down the kids, watching TV, having a fight and then making love.

And I guess right here in New York….there are people who happily sleep a little later than usual, read The Times….take a shower (and sometimes forget to give it back!)….dress in appropriate Sunday gear - unisex Juicy Couture knockoffs in amusing colors…have a nutritious fun filled brunch of ethnic variety…go to a late afternoon movie…come out to an early Sunday evening….take home a little Chinese take-out…put the leftovers together in one carton in the fridge….wash their own or each other’s hair….have some wine, watch a DVD, wrinkle tomorrow’s outfit and call it a day……okay….they’re right….it’s a day. So why do I want to commit mass murder when my Sundays roll around?

Let me tell you about this last Sunday. It was pretty nice actually, weather-wise. I made the bed, ate a bagel, read The Times….and stared…“Oh do not stare,” I said to myself….“Go out, take a walk….avail yourself….avail yourself.” All righty…. I walked on my familiar Upper West Side….nodding to no one in particular….and thought maybe it would be pleasant to hit a movie…………sold out…never mind…I can buy a DVD….hire a security guard….and watch it in my own bedroom.

No good – I’ve seen them all.

Basking in the glow of frustration I decided to take the crosstown bus home and start again….so there I was on Seventy Ninth and Broadway….bright sunlight…people to and froing….when I saw a man squatting up against the bank on the corner….no, actually first, I saw, what I thought, was a man pulling his running pants down over his legs. Then I saw that he was squatting bare assed, but covered from his knees down. Then I saw him pull up his pants. You see I didn’t just keep looking at him. I was too embarrassed and shocked, but I sneaked glances along with everyone else waiting at the bus stop. I wanted to see…no don’t look….my head swiveled one hundred and eighty degrees like Regan in The Exorcist. He gathered up his paper bag….muttering all the time….and when I looked next….I saw a mound of steaming hot bright yellowish colored excrement..……………That man doesn’t like Sundays either….but at least he knows what to do about them.

PROFESSOR STEPHEN HAWKING AND ‘SEX IN THE CITY’

After my beloved Adolph died and I found myself a “Broadway widow”, I tried many paths. I wished that there was a book “Aging For Dummies” – maybe I’ll write one – maybe I’ll share my wisdom – maybe I’ll lose twenty pounds (that’s definitely another blog).

Here’s what I know about being a ‘senior’ actress. All the parts you’re offered either have Alzheimer’s or live in Boca and are looking for a man and, if they find one – he gets a heart attack in Act II. Or she’s a Mother Superior. End of story.

I’ve never jumped on a bandwagon in my life – but Betty White has beaten the odds and given alter cockers everywhere a glimmer of hope.

NOW – BACK TO MY PREMISE – (I know, I know – I don’t have one).
But I DO have a soupçon of advice. NYC is the place to be – at any age – because within the last two weeks I spent one night in Alice Tully Hall sitting in a seat next to the esteemed Professor Stephen Hawking in his remarkable special chair on wheels fitted with a very large computer screen facing him. The occasion was the opening night of the World Science Festival. The first act was a performing arts salute to science. A talented group, some of whom were Yo-Yo Ma, Kelli O’Hara, Alan Alda, Rebecca Luker and on and on – at the end of which Professor Hawking was wheeled to the front of the orchestra floor and the whole width of the stage arose, with him in the center. He spoke through his computer. His voice sounded relaxed, his words were grateful, graceful and witty. It was a never to be forgotten moment. Please find out more about him. In President Obama’s words, ‘…he’s led us on a journey to the farthest and strangest reaches of the cosmos. In so doing, he has stirred our imagination and shown us the power of the human spirit here on Earth.’

A couple of nights later I found myself (I have no idea how I got there) in a humongous line of young women and some men – munching on the $50 size popcorn sipping a $15 diet coke waiting to see ‘Sex and the City’. I saw, I stayed, I conquered – I really liked it.

Well you get it – a lot of experiences all within twenty blocks of my apartment. NY, NY is a helluva town. It levels the playing field of age.


BROADWAY REVIVAL OF ‘WONDERFUL TOWN’ - OCTOBER 2003

Adolph’s opening night….the first….with no Adolph.
No buzz buzz in our house.
No A in his skivvies showing me and then asking me about where he cut himself shaving.
No calls back and forth and more with Betty.
Very few packages, flowers, notes being delivered that I’d read to him.
“Oh how nice….isn’t that nice! How do I look?”
“Like a Greek god.”
“No….really?”
“Really Adolph you look so handsome and distinguished….black tie really suits you.”
And it did….he was meant to be out….on the town in a tux and he was.

I take a nap and pretend I’m looking forward to going alone to….alone to….no I won’t! I’ll find a pill….an oxyanything – and see if that does anything. I’ll lie down, sit up, wash my hair, rob a bank….I’ll call Adolph.
I don’t think so.

I taped this photo of Adolph to an old pin and wore it on my fancy embroidered opening night coat.
I wound up taking Adolph to his opening night.
Corny? Sure. But he would have loved it.