Shoegasm

I have spent the past few weeks writing about relationships which has been quite invigorating. However, I returned from my recent trip to New York with several shoe stories. I am returning to my roots, or at least the roots of this blog!

Shoes. The universal language for almost all women. No other garment incites as much conversation as footwear. Well, perhaps handbags. Three year waiting lists exist at the Hermes store for the much coveted Birkin bag, despite its five-digit price tag. Proven by the success of Sephora and other cosmetic emporiums, makeup is also an obsession for many of us. The promise of beauty without regard to losing five pounds is quite alluring!

New York, to me, is the shoe capital of the U.S. Perhaps because I spent my formative footwear years in the Big Apple or maybe because of the shoe obsession of Carrie et al. Maybe because New Yorkers are so fashion-aware and stylish. The influence of Seventh Avenue, the proliferation of the world's best department stores. Saks, Bloomie's, Bergdorf's, Barney's, Bendels. Boutiques. 57th Street. Madison Avenue. No other city offers such a candy store of retail! New York has a plethora of small shoe boutiques offering fifty percent off. While I didn't find any shoes to pique my interest or inspire me to let go of my cash, I enjoyed window shopping!

As strolled through Manhattan in my gold Tory Burch Reva flats, I photographed creative shoe store signs and bold shoe styles in the Top Shop, a rather disappointing transplant from across the pond. I was thrilled to notice most working women wearing stylish flats and not the clunky running shoes worn on the streets in the 1980s. Even as a commuter, I always changed into adorable Joan and David ballet flats. A girl must always look her best!

I noticed very few women in stilettos. Meeting a high school crush for lunch, I had decided to wear taupe patent heels because they looked best with my brown linen pencil skirt and black top. I traipsed through the village in my pumps. Since I spent my twenties promenading through Manhattan in Charles Jourdan, this was not a problem until I changed my shoes later in the day! Ouch!

Watching Mad Men and other period pieces, I occasionally wish I had been of age in an era where women wore hats, gloves, stockings, and heels. I am not so sure about those rather stifling undergarments. But there is something to be said for looking stylish and ladylike!

A fashion aficionado, I spent an afternoon at The Costume Exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, a personal favorite. The current special exhibition, which runs through August 9th, is The Model as Muse: Embodying Fashion. Focusing on the period from 1947 through 1997, this exhibit studies the influence of high fashion on changing ideals of beauty. Renowned models of each era are seen in fashion photographs by such luminaries as Richard Avedon, Herb Ritts, Scavullo, and Patrick Demarchalier as well as vintage covers of Vogue and Glamour.

The post-war period through the 1950s is known as the Golden Age of Haute Couture. Wasp-waisted, well-coiffed models such as Suzy Parker and Sunny Harnett glamorized Dior's New Look. The exhibit featured these models in magazines as well as scenarios of mannequins in the style of the day.

The Youthquake of the 1960s brought gangly, long-legged models such as Twiggy and Jean Shrimpton, dressed in mod styles by Rudi Gernreich, Pierre Cardin, and Paco Rabanne. The Rolling Stones played in the background while a film clip from "Blowout" ran on continuous loop.

The 70's paid paean to Studio 54, Halston, and the upscale bohemian fashions of Yves St. Laurent. This was also the high point for American Sportswear and models such as Lisa Taylor and Jerry Hall as well as Cheryl Tiegs and her all-American peers
seen in Sports Illustrated swimsuit covers.

1980's were the era of the Supermodel Trilogy of Linda Evangelista, Naomi Campbell, and Christy Turlington, all featured in George Michael's "Freedom 90" video, along with Cindy Crawford and Tatjana Patitz. The minimalist fashions of Donna Karan were featured alongside Prada and Helmut Lang. The exhibit ends with the 90's radical chic, Kate Moss, and grunge heroin chic.

I left the museum before an impending thunderstorm hit Manhattan. On the Fifth Avenue southbound bus, I sat next to a woman about my age and her 10 year old daughter. My seatmate asked me about my shoes which began a fifteen minute conversation about the quasi-addictive qualities of Louboutin's and our shared plan to moonlight in retail to acquire the discount! I mentioned to my new friend that I wrote a shoe blog and passed her my card. Shoes are the ice-breaker between women, a shared obsession, and so much more!

Footprints on Our Hearts

During a recent trip to a craft store, I browsed through the cellophane-covered posters one might hang in a dorm room. Usually maudlin quotations in a cursive font, backgrounds awash in pastel drawings of flowers or waves washing the shore. The kind found in Pier One, Michael's or Cost Plus. One poster caught my eye. While the lack of artistic sensibilities prevented me from a purchase, I copied the text on my cellphone.


“Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some people move our souls to dance. They awaken us to a new understanding with the passing whisper of their wisdom. Some people make the sky more beautiful to gaze upon. They stay in our lives for awhile, leave footprints on our hearts, and we are never, ever the same.”
- Flavia Weedn

These passage spoke to me as I reconnect with friends from the past and spend time with my more recently acquainted friends. What a gift to spend time with the people in our lives who move our souls to dance!

Recently, during my trip to New York, I dined with several inspiring friends who have all left "footprints" on my heart.

I shared dinner and lychee martini's with my very first friend from childhood. We met when I was two and she was one. Our parents were close friends. We spent countless Saturday nights at sleepovers, watching "Love Boat" and "Fantasy Island." She always had an almost obsession for "Mash," "Mutiny on the Bounty," horses, and fried shrimp. My friend has experienced more than her share of trials and tribulations but has come out a strong, resilient person. Her focus and resolve are unparalleled. She is an accomplished executive, always planning interesting trips and experiences for herself and her daughter. I am so proud of the woman she has become. She inspires me to set goals and rise to meet them. She will always hold a place in my heart.

A second friend is also a first cousin. She was born when I was fourteen and I moved away when she was just eleven. My cousin who has also become a close friend did live in Los Angeles for a few years before moving back to New York. Spending a day alone with her gave me the chance to share confidences and examine our families and background. My cousin has grown to become a phenomenal woman She is the type of person who puts everyone at ease. Like all of us, her life has given her challenges. She has always worked on herself, becoming a strong, insightful woman. I am also so proud of the woman she has become. I love her very much.

During my trip, I had dinner with one of my mother's best friends and her daughter. As I had spent quite a bit of time in my mother's office, where she worked alongside her friend, I have always considered her to be a friend. It was almost surreal to spend time alone with her as an adult, as a peer. She and my mother took walks every day, sharing confidences and laughs. Remembering my mother with someone else who loved her and misses her touched my heart. My friend's daughter has always been like a younger sister. Now that we are both mothers,sharing interests and experiences, we have also renewed our relationship. She is a beautiful, compassionate, caring mother and daughter. I am proud of her, as well! (There is a Yiddish word for this overflowing emotion! Kvelling!)

I visited with two of my aunts whom I have always regarded as my friends and older sisters. Throughout my life, they have served as confidantes. My aunts have always regarded me as a mini-adult, treating me with respect and never second guessing me. They have given me the confidence to fill my life with new experiences and to love myself. When I was a child, my mother's younger sister introduced me to women's lib, the Beatles, and meditation. My father's younger sister brought into my life "The Red Balloon," nose glasses, and the ability to find humor in any situtation. They have both had an immeasurable influence on my personality!

Through Facebook, I have become reacquainted with two high school classmates. In high school, we shared casual conversation. Our friendships developed as adults are a windfall. Almost like opening a wrapped gift found in the back of a closet and finding a valuable gem. These friends are bright, stimulating, and compassionate people. I have always been more attracted to people who don't spend life going through the motions. I prefer people who constantly learn, grown, evolve, and challenge themselves.

One of these friends has always been an extremely talented writer and brilliant poet. He creates stunning, thought-provoking landscapes from words on a page. He can be so profound yet is also a gifted wit. His creativity and hilarity will never be surpassed! The kind of person you meet once in a lifetime. An amazing friend, he has blown away a dark cloud which was blocking my creativity and my writing. I will cherish this friend forever. He is the prize in the Cracker Jack box, a winning Lotto ticket, a found penny, heads up. (I must kvell over him, too!)

During my high school years, when "The Official Preppy Handbook" was my personal bible, my deskmate was competition! We showed up to Honors History in our khakis and monogrammed sweaters, penny loafers or Topsiders. Kilts and headbands. Last week, as I shared Turkish food and red wine with my friend and her husband in a New York restaurant, I was so inspired to get to know the incredible woman she has become! (And neither of us wore a kilt nor penny loafers!) My friend who has lived and studied internationally, holds graduate and law degrees. Presently, she spends her days collecting letters written by Jews who perished in the concentration camps which she hopes to publish. She is inspired by her grandparents who, during Hitler's reign or terror, helped save countless Dutch Jews from meeting their demise in the camps. My friend was deeply influenced by her grandparents who had taught her doing the right, ethical thing by helping others is not an option but a responsibility. I am touched by her passion for her work and for her commitment to others.


My two high school friends and I were classmates in our Honors History class where we recreated the Constitutional Convention and wrote business plans. Our teacher, Mr. Wagner, was fond of the 1940's era adage, "There's no such thing as a free lunch," a phrase popular with science fiction fans and libertarians. We will always remember him quoting this philospophy as he taught us economic theory. Mr. Wagner was indoubtedly one of the most inspiring teachers of our academic careers. Perhaps, he lit a flame within us which we have not allowed to extinguish. In reestablishing our relationships, my friends and I continue to fan each other's flames.


Blessed is the influence of one true, loving human soul on another. (George Eliot)
Doubly blessed is the influence of more than one soul.

Cherished Friendships

As I wind down my week on the East Coast, reconnecting with family and dear friends, I reflect on ideas shared over coffee, lunch, dinner, and cocktails.

Meeting with high school classmates, I am brought instantly back to the late 70s. We may be a bit older and have had interesting experiences, but it is like no time has passed. I am so blessed to have these friends in my life but am a bit saddened that I waited so long to get to truly know them. However, I am mindful that we don't really know ourselves until we reach our 40s.

Earlier in the office center of my hotel, I overheard two twenty-something girls wish they could go back to high school. Most people, when asked, would rather have a root canal than go back to high school. Sometimes, I think I would love a do-over, a chance to go back to high school knowing what I know now. Perhaps that is why I have the desire to impart my children with my new found wisdom! But, some lessons need to be learned first-hand.

Our high school years are spent figuring out our identities and struggling with Calculus, acne, or a goofy grin. We are worried nobody likes us yet we may not even like ourselves. The four brief years spent in high school may not seem critical or life-altering until years later, as we attend reunions or turn the pages of our now dated yearbooks. We may not realize at the time, but the shared experiences of our teen years do inspire a close bonding. Classmates who may not even have spoken much outside of class may become close friends as adults.

As an idealist, I tend to form unattainably high expectations for most of my experiences. I expected high school to be John Hughes film with all the warm fuzzies or at least a cute guy in a red Porsche coming to take me away. I enjoyed my time spent learning, laughing with friends, chatting about our crushes or what we would wear. I wish I had slowed down and paid more attention to each moment. At my high school graduation, I remember becoming tearfully aware that this part of my life had passed. But, as this week has proven to me, you can go home again.

Lessons from the Playground

I spent yesterday afternoon watching and playing with my two adorable preschool-aged cousins play in a park. The playground is probably the first locale where many of us receive a social education, of sorts. As I witnessed children negotiate playground equipment, learn how to pump their legs on a swing, and share, I thought about the life lessons garnered from this experience.

1. The View from the Swing. Life does not get much better than this. Remember tossing your head back as the swing headed towards the sky. The tickly, bubbly feeling as you swung forward? (Try this as an adult and you will undoubtedly experience nausea.) We spend the rest of our lives trying to recapture this feeling. Sex, drugs, rock 'n roll. Even a few cocktails. They may come close, but no cigar.

2. Climbing to the Top. Playgrounds feature various climbing apparatus. Although they may toddle through the wood chips blanketing the ground, magic happens when young children climb up these various rock-climbing steps, ladders, even up slides. They are fearless little monkeys. The possibility of falling doesn't even phase them. Just do it. And if they do fall, they "pick themselves up, brush themselves off, and start all over again."

3. Climb Up the Slide if You Want! Sure, slides are meant to go down. When you decide to go the opposite route, risk is involved. But, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Listen most of the time but know when to take chances. Climb up that slide if you want!

4. Wait Your Turn. Sure, that kid wants to push you out of the way so he can play on the bouncy turtle. The frog isn't going to do it for him. But, be assertive. Tell him to wait. Relationships are about waiting your turn.

5. Keep Pumping Till You Get It Right. Learning to pump your legs is no small feat. It takes practice. In, out, in, out. Eventually, you will get it right. But, you may still need someone to give you that push to get started.

Thank you, Hannah and Nathan, for a joyful afternoon!

The Passage of Two Icons

Yesterday, we lost two icons of my youth. Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson. Like many legends, Farrah and Michael left our world far too early. Their legacy continues through the work they have left behind.

Farrah Fawcett-Majors. The name engenders memories of an original Charlie's Angel. "Angels, I have an assignment." I can hear the theme song in my head and picture Farrah, gun drawn, in a police uniform, in the opening credits. In Anthony Wayne Junior High, the hairstyle goal of just about every female student (and perhaps some males!) was Farrah's layered cut. She only starred as Jill Munroe for one year but this role catapulted her to international fame. The infamous poster of Farrah in a red swimsuit was featured in Saturday Night Fever. She went on to earn several Emmy and Golden Globe nominations for more profound projects including Burning Bed and Extremities, both on Broadway and in film. But, to me, the actress's life-changing role was as herself in Farrah's Story, the two-hour documentary detailing her battle with cancer. She showed us dignity, bravery, and a sense of humor as well as a piece of her life. Farrah will always be remembered.

Michael Jackson. King of Pop. In his fifty years, Michael has changed the face of music, dance, and truly entertained us. Eccentricities and legal issues nonwithstanding, Michael was a true music icon. From his days in The Jackson Five to The Wiz, The Wall, Thriller and later work, we are bequeathed with his soundtrack. During his illustrious career, Michael gave us first "feature" music video, Thriller. Who can forget the artistic video for Black and White, featuring a host of actors morphing into each other. Or the West Side Story-inspired Bad . Michael in his single white glove, doing the Moonwalk, a move he created. We all wore white socks with black patent loafers because of Michael who certainly had a unique style. In fact, I think I will break out the white socks and black shoes when I get home! Recently, I heard a radio report about Michael's planned tour in the U.K. Kenny Ortega of High School Musical was apparently choreographing a new dance move for Michael which would transform dance as we know it. Sadly, we will never have the opportunity to see Michael do this move. But, even without this new move, Michael has changed dance for eternity.

Rest in Peace.

The Promised Land of the Bridge and Tunnel Crowd

Today, I began a reunion trip to the "promised land" otherwise known as New York and New Jersey. I have been back east in the past 21 years since leaving for the left coast but this trip is different. As we blow out more candles on our annual icing-laden cakes, our pasts become increasingly significant. We reminisce, catch up with friends of our youth, and look back astonishingly at the rapid passage of time.

Following a three hour flight delay, missed connecting flight, and varied modes of transportation, schlepping two monogrammed duffle bags from JFK to the Port Authority Bus Terminal, I remembered the bus route and gate number as if on autopilot. Bus 197 to Wayne; Gate 233. Past the retro bowling alley which appears temporarily closed for remodeling. I spent many bus trips planning a Prom style party at this venue, an event which sadly never happened. I even envisioned a seafoam green chiffon dress with matching peau de soie pumps and my hair in a updo. Oh, well.

As I boarded the bus, I flashed back on countless evenings commuting home from fashion school, summer jobs, post college positions, and shopping trips with friends. It was as if time stood still. I took my seat, gazing out the window as we approached Lincoln Tunnel. As a child, I remember a game my brother and I used to play in the tunnel; first one to spot the New York/New Jersey line was the winner. I also recalled getting stuck in the tunnel in 90 degree plus humidity one summer day after a soujourn to Columbus Avenue in the early 80s with my aunt Isabel. I know I haven't paid attention to shoes in a while so I will mention that I was wearing really cute pewter ballet flats with large antique gold polka dots at the time. I bought them at Canadienne's in Willowbrook Mall.

Leaving the tunnel, the breathtaking New York skyline was displayed before me like a stock photo. I thought about the Broadway and off Broadway shows, museum trips, and the Young People's Series at Lincoln Center which played a huge role in my childhood memories. Class trips to Radio City Music Hall, the promise of a hot pretzel or roasted chestnuts shared with my mom as we walked up Fifth Avenue to the Plaza Hotel in our annual Christmas Eve celebration of our parents' anniversary. The Librarie Francaise in Rockefeller Center where I purchased many a French book. The checkered floor at Bloomie's on 59th and Lex. The Swiss Townhome for Girls on West 67th Street where I lived briefly when I attended FIT. I used to pretend I was living in a pension in Paris. No men or boys were allowed upstairs and they served us pitchers of steamed milk for our morning cafe au laits. Dancing to the wee hours at Limelight, Palladium, Area, followed by a scrumptious apple and walnut omelet at 2 am at the Empire Diner. I could go on and on.

Route 46 and the Meadowlands brought back memories of a summer spent waitressing at Devon's Seafood Grill. I still wear the dark green apron, the pockets I would stuff with tips. It is quite a thrill to leave a day's or evening's work with a pile of cash.

I passed East Rutherford, home to my all-time favorite organic restaurant, Park and Orchard. To this day, I crave the Mongolian Style Tofu. Yum! I pass Clifton, home to my best childhood friend Susie and the site which once housed Rowe Manse Emporium, a delightful mini Harrod's filled with interesting clothing, gifts, and chocolates. In the same center was once Bond's Ice Cream Shop, home of the Awful Awful, a giant milkshake. I don't know the origin of its name.

Further up Route 46 lies the exit to Passaic, hometown to both of my parents. I remembered Passover seders, sleepovers, holidays at my grandparents. My grandma Fran was the consumate entertainer, always hosting pretty glamourous dinner parties which I would attend when I slept over. She was an amazing cook and set a beautiful table with her dark green bubble goblets. Everyone was always laughing. Down the stairs to her basement rested a portrait of my stunning grandmother as a young woman. My brother and I were convinced the eyes would move. The basement always smelled like whiskey. My aunt Isabel who was more of an older sister and I used to toast marshmallows on the stove and discuss meditation and women's lib. This predated my even having a bra to burn. My uncle Alan had an interesting attic room and a camera which would take double pictures so you would have a twin.

Nanny and Papa Ralph lived in a high rise with a lobby, a balcony, and an incinerator, exciting features for kids in the 70s. I remember my aunt Alice's day bed with fuschia and olive striped pillows hanging from the wall along with her oil paintings. Nanny kept Viennese finger cookies in a strawberry cookie jar. She always served me cucumbers and green peppers along with ginger ale in my "special" cordial glass. At Nanny and Papa Ralph's, I cooked my very first meal on a chilly January evening when Roots was televised for the first time. Beef stew, favorite muffins, and Jello One Two Three which was served in parfait glasses tilted on the refrigerator shelves, sort of a pousse cafe of gelatin desserts.

Memories.

Turning onto Riverview Drive as we passed the municipal golf course and a small park, I remember my decision to toss a patent Mary Jane out the car window at the age of 2 1/2. The secret thrill of doing something I was pretty sure was naughty. Luckily, my aunt Carol and Uncle Mat following in their car retrieved my shoe. Aware of my love for shoes, you are probably surprised I would risk losing footwear. But there can be such an illicit thrill to doing something "bad." I do not remember getting reprimanded.

My trip down memory lane would not be complete without acknowledging the now defunct Anthony Wayne Junior High and my high school, Wayne Valley. I have fond recollections of my high school days, including the student body chanting "Burn, Baby, Burn, Disco Inferno" during an fire evacuation circa 1977. Across the street was the A & P Shopping Center. In the 70s and early 80s, my mom sold real estate at House Hunters. You may remember the hot pink business cards and key chains. I would walk to her office after school and do my homework while her colleagues and friends would chat. I was like an honorary realtor.

I had a happy childhood. Times were simpler then. We didn't have 100 television channels, the internet, or daily scheduled activities. We played outside and used our imagination. We didn't have Sims or Webkinz. Looking back, though, is also sad. Those days live on only in our memories and in our photo albums. We have lost people we loved.

Reconnecting with friends. Spending some time in the crucial spots of our childhood. Listening to popular music from our era. These activities minimize our sadness about the passage of time. We become increasingly comforted by that which is familiar. Are we becoming our parents?

When One Chapter Closes, Another Begins

Is life like that oft visited novel on your nightstand, favorite pages dog-eared to be reread in moments of ennui? We being the prologue to our adult lives with so much anticipation. We hope to find passion in our relationships and careers. We embark on adventures. What happens if passion eludes us? What if we get to the middle of the story to find pages missing? Are we stuck rereading the familiar pages, revisiting our hopeful pasts while stalling the next chapter?

To reference music, I remember replaying my Billy Joel 52d Street album until the grooves were worn down, producing a soulful distortion from the phonograph where melody once flowed. Is there a definitive point in life's soundtrack where the distortions between stanzas render the album unrecognizable?

In the days before Lyrics.com, I would repeatedly listen to songs to decipher the words, pen in hand. We are sometimes tempted to replay life's events in the same manner, reflecting on alternative outcomes.

Alas, life is not a beloved novel nor an overplayed LP. Life is a work in progress. At any time, we can rewrite the rules, change what isn't working. We can and should strive for personal fulfillment and happiness. Misery or even complacency prolong the skipped stanzas. We all deserve to listen to our hearts sing and to experience promise, laughter, and joy.

Celluloid Style

Mae West once commented, "The best way to learn to be a lady is to see how other ladies do it first." Whether fine-tuning your wardrobe or reinventing your personal look, observing others whom you would like to emulate is a wardrobe must. Perhaps you know an acquaintance or friend with fabulous fashion sense. Maybe you don't. If you are lucky enough to live in Hollywood, inspiration is found in droves. A visit to the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences or the Louis B. Mayer Library at AFI can give us a glimpse of real Hollywood glamour. You may find your inspiration by watching classic films.

My favorite three style icons from the past include the gamine Audrey Hepburn, the chic, natural Grace Kelly, and the minimalist classic Katharine Hepburn. Audrey Hepburn once said, “My look is attainable. Women can look like Audrey Hepburn by flipping out their hair, buying the large sunglasses, and the little sleeveless dresses.” I would add her ubiquitous ballet flats, slim black pants, a pair or two of capris, a boatneck, three-quarter sleeved sweater but you get the point. Audrey brought an uptown elan to the sixties with her slim silhouette in black, ivory, and white. Her classic makeup included groom brows, eyeliner, and a nude lipstick. She brought back the little black dress. Her look still resonates today, as featured in Gap ads several years back.

A second style star is Grace Kelly, with her chic, ladylike look. The future princess favored simple, understated lines in a monochromatic scheme. Traditional, high quality garments in a flattering tone worn with a strand of costume (or should you be so lucky!) real pearls will give you this look. Think investment pieces such as a good pair of neutral shoes and a cashmere sweater coupled with less expensive pieces in the same color family. A good haircut and classic makeup add polish to your style.

A third design legend is Katharine Hepburn. Ms. Hepburn practically invented the wide-leg, high waisted trouser which she coupled with a classic blouse, tailored jacket, and stylish loafers. Practical and sporty yet still elegant and classic, Ms. Hepburn's look works as well today as in the days of Spencer Tracy.

Hollywood's best-dressed list is influenced by stars of classic Hollywood. You can join this group by becoming a student of film and fashion. Read magazines such as In Style and adopt the timeless, elegant appearance of these screen legends.

Heelmates

As I ponder the role of soulmates in our lives, romantic and platonic, I am drawn to examine the opposite. Are there people in our lives who exist to take us down, to place obstacles in our path, emotional and otherwise? Philosophies about adversity as a prerequisite to growth are rather abundant. Should we choose to adopt this idea, must our lives be a rollercoaster, alternating between peaks and valleys? One day, we are on top of the world, confident in the power of our dreams and our talents. The next, a simple look of disgust or a negative comment can deflate our best laid plans.

As we appreciate the role of soulmates in lighting our path, we must also acknowledge the function of those who turn out the light. We may love these people. They may be close family members, bosses, supervisors, teachers, or colleagues. We may love them for their other fine qualities. But, these people are heelmates, probably callused at best. Their job is not to nurture you. They don't typically think highly of your dreams or goals unless it is part of their master plan. These people are usually glass half-empty and they may find discomfort in your glass half-full approach to life. Perhaps they feel threatened. I am not a therapist nor have I ever played on TV so I will not attempt to psychoanalyze them. I just know they exist to place some rocks in our paths or even closing down the street so we need to take an alternative route.

A Sig Alert is defined by the California Highway Patrol as "any traffic incident that will tie up two or more lanes of a freeway for two or more hours..." If only we had Sig Alerts to warn us of heelmates. Unfortunately, the only gauge we have is our past experience.

Once we are aware, what can we do to minimize the effect of the critical naysayers? We need to surround ourselves with an abundance of soulmates, those who encourage the best in ourselves. We need to listen to the positive people in our lives as well as develop a strong inner voice to drown out the negatives. Occasionally, we may need to take a detour on our life's path to overcome these roadblocks or Sig Alerts. But when we do reach our goals, the realization will be ever more sweet.

Sole Mates, Part Deux

My previous posting on soulmates discussed the theory of romantic counterparts. I got to thinking as I spoke with a friend and colleague. Must all soulmates be amourous in nature? Can friends and acquaintances fall into this category?

Throughout life's experiences, we form connections and relationships with a myriad of people. We have childhood friends, school chums, college pals, coworkers, neighbors. As adults, we may meet people in a class or volunteering. As parents, we befriend the parents of our children's friends, classmates, soccer team members. Most of these relationships are formed because of proximity.

Alternatively, if we are open to new relationships, we may meet people in a more random fashion, in line at Trader Joe's, at a political function, maybe in a movie theater or on Facebook. My 12 year old daughter tells about meeting a girl at a slumber party, chatting till the wee hours. While she may never see this girl again, their encounter has made an impact on her life. Occasionally, these connections by chance lead us to new places.

In an earlier post, I quoted from Nicholas Sparks' "Nights on Rodanthe." A soulmate is "one that gives you the courage to be better than you are, not less than you are..." Unbelievably, if we are open to the idea, someone we meet once in a waiting room might change our lives. Sometimes, we pursue short-lived relationships with these people. I once met a transplanted New Yorker and actor in a movie theatre near UCLA. At the time, I worked in casting. We became fast friends.

I have met friends in writing seminars, at fundraisers, in carpools. Some of these chance encounters have changed my life. I believe everything happens for a reason. While searching for quotes, I found a passage from Bella Online, edited by Paula Grant-LeClaire.


Everything Happens for a Reason
(Author Unknown)

Sometimes people come into your life
and you know right away that they were meant to be there,
they serve some sort of purpose, teach you a lesson
or help figure out who you are or who you want to become.

You never know who these people may be;
your roommate, your neighbor, professor, long lost friend, lover
or even a complete stranger who, when you lock eyes with them,
you know that very moment that they will affect your life in some profound way.

I could not have said this better myself. When we are open to the possibility, we befriend and meet angels or soulmates throughout our journey. As we reach crossroads in life, these guides may reacquaint us with who we truly are or may help us decide our futures.

An Adolescent Guide to Romance

The chauffer role exposes moms (and presumably dads) to the wisdom of preteens and adolescents, as well as a few chuckles. Toting my seventh grade daughter and her friend to a local fro yo hot spot, I listened without comment as my daughter recounted a tale of middle school romance. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. I had to add the Hollywood disclaimer. My starry-eyed offspring described how a classmate had asked a boy for a kiss in the drizzling rain. "Isn't that romantic?" she sighed. Without skipping a beat, her friend replied, "It isn't romantic if the girl has to ask the boy."

A girl after my own heart! My daughter's friend was clearly raised on a steady diet of Turner Classic Movies and AMC. Cary Grant, Bogart, and William Holden set the bar for desired male behavior and are a tough act to follow.

Since my coming of age in the late 1970s, girls have been encouraged to compete in the marketplace. We can break the glass ceiling and pursue just about any career, barring NFL linebacker and a few other jobs most women wouldn't wish to pursue. I applaud the legwork of the trailblazers who cleared this path.

However, in romance, I must agree with the 13 year old sage. When Fred twirled Ginger around the dance floor, who was leading? The resurging popularity of ballroom dancing and such shows as "Dancing with the Stars" is no coincidence. We have become so accustomed to unisex clothing, sensible shoes, and fear of sexual harassment in the workplace that we miss la difference.

When Cary Grant held the door open for his leading lady, helped her with her coat, or lit her now politically incorrect cigarette, I would swoon. I spent most of my single days searching for men confident enough to wear aftershave, at home in a tuxedo, and who would send a dozen roses along with a hand-written note, just because. Do these men exist outside of their celluloid counterparts in black and white film?

The absence of witty banter and harmless flirting has turned our world into a gender neutral, boring place. The revival of ballroom dancing and four inch heels is symbolic of our need to return to more romantic times. I, for one, have never given up the power of red lipstick, stilettos, and a little black dress. Vive la difference!

While watching tivo'ed episodes of AMC's "Mad Men," I am often disappointed I didn't have the chance to work on early 60's era Madison Avenue. Sure, I appreciate today's innovations and increased opportunities for women. But, what fun to be wearing a pencil skirt and heels while being chased around the couch by a cocktail swilling boss. Well, maybe only if the boss remembled Don Draper and would fete me at Le Cirque or some other swanky boite.

Ohio Man Arrested in Ladies' Swimsuit

Monday night's 11:00 pm news featured a rather interesting story about a 41-old Ohio man arrested for misdemeanor public indecency and menacing. At the time of his arrest, he was wearing a green ladies' one-piece swimsuit, socks, and boots. Apparently, twenty folks were so disturbed when he asked their opinion of his ensemble, they filed official complaints with the local police department. I must admit, his bright green maillot was quite appalling, evocative of the cover of my Jane Fonda Low Impact video, circa 1980. All he was missing was a headband and some legwarmers. He wore a bra underneath to give him some uplift. The copius chest and leg hair added a rather whimsical touch.

Swimsuit season is upon us. My curiosity was piqued. I wondered, if I were to ask a random twenty people poolside what they thought of my swimsuit, might I risk getting arrested? If I miss my waxing appointment or fail to use self-tanner on my legs, will I get charged with public indecency? What if I go so far as to buy a two-piece? Perhaps, I will have to spend the next few years in prison, eating gruel and wearing an oversized orange jumpsuit with workboots?

I think I will be staying away from pools or the beach this summer. There is just too much at risk!

Footwear Faux Pas

Today after school, my younger daughter Keri and I hit Barnes & Noble for an M & M blondie and the latest American Girl books for her; a required summer Algebra workbook for Emily, my 12 year old daughter. As Keri munched on her pastry, I glanced around the cafe, fashion editor goggles on. As far back as I can remember, Glamour Magazine has had a section called "Glamour Dos & Don'ts" which features random photographs of chicly appointed women and fashion victims. The latter are shown with a black mask-like bar across their features. Take no prisoners. As I spent my formative years reading Glamour and other fashion mags, I cannot be held responsible for my predilection for fashion reviews. Relax, I would not critique outfits of friends or family unless asked. So your propensity for baring your g-string in low rise jeans or wearing a hole-ridden, sweat-stained tee shirt is safe with me. I am really just taking notes for a future self-help book.

The object of my personal ambush makeover? Three women at three o'clock, sharing pastries and gossip. One woman toddled to her table in a pair of high heeled mules. For the footwear novice, mules are backless shoes with either an open or closed toe. Sort of like those pink shoes you had for your Barbie. Mules, clogs, and slides are all closely related. I will save the classification and history portion of this lesson for another post.

Mules, clogs, and slides are all chosen for their easy on/easy off feature. Personally, I can appreciate this quality in oven cleaner or clothing you might wear on a hot date. Flip flops or slides worn to the beach, pool, or at the spa do have a practical application as do your favorite slippers. Under what circumstance would one need to swiftly doff and don more formal shoes? I can only imagine.

Listen, in my own personal footwear timeline, I have owned more than a few pairs of the above. In my closet as we speak is a pair of cute natural colored criss-crossed open toed mules purchased last summer for a certain skirt/top ensemble. These shoes also look pretty cute with jeans or white pants. I also have a few pairs of flat sandals which would fit in this category. I will admit their charm when paired with a casual skirt or summer dress.

However, I have a couple of rules for backless shoes. Rule Number One: IF THE SHOE DOES NOT FIT, DO NOT WEAR IT! Nothing looks less appetizing than a fleshy foot spilling over the sides of a backless shoe. Well, maybe slimey produce or mold covered cottage cheese. Rule Number Two: PEDICURES. Another unsightly vision would have to be callused, cracked heels. You don't really need a costly spa pedicure (Then again, maybe you do!) All sorts of interesting lotions, soaks, and tools are for sale at your local pharmacy or Target. Soak, scrub, expoliate, and lotion your way to smooth, attractive feet.

We all want to "put our best foot forward." Hopefully, that foot will look groomed, smooth, and in proper fitting shoes!

Loungechair Reading

As I get ready for tonight's bookclub meeting, I ponder the role of books in our lives. Now, I am the kind of girl who grew up with the flashlight under the covers or sneaking into the bathroom in the middle of the night with a favorite tome. I am a quick read; I spent my adolescence reading "People" cover to cover before my dad brought the latest issue to his office waiting room. I have read through the entire self-help section of Barnes & Noble in three hours, while nursing a nonfat latte! My bookshelves are filled with an extensive collection of cookbooks, British chick lit, and fashion guide books.

I am a fan of the short story, especially by O. Henry and John Cheever. I have read the complete works of F. Scott Fitzgerald, Jane Austen, Philip Roth, Tom Wolfe, and J.D. Salinger, among others. But, my taste is not so high brow as to preclude an extensive collection of paperbacks which pay homage to "Bridget Jones Diary," including "The Devil Wears Prada" and a host of other books about single girls in the city. These books are the equivalent of crispy, hot french fries. I cannot stop at just one!

Today, I asked a friend for a beach read. He suggested "Stardust" by Neil Gaiman. I stopped at Border's and searched in the g's. I figured I would need to do a Barnes & Noble run or at least an Amazon booty call. I did find two paperbacks which caught my eye. These books would be impervious to sunscreen and a poolside cocktail. "Beginner's Greek," by James Collins, promises to be "as charming as it is enthralling" according to Entertainment Weekly. I have never relied upon the book reviews of Entertainment Weekly or People. But, Elissa Schappell of Vanity Fair claims this is "a satire of modern love that will charm both sexes equally." And the cover was kind of snazzy. My second pick was "A Summer Affair" by Elin Hilderbrand. "She was the perfect wife and mother and he was the perfect temptation." "A perfect summer cocktail of sex, sun, and scandal." Sounds promising! I approached the cash register where I asked about "Stardust" and was directed to the science fiction section. I haven't really read anything from this section since "The Andromeda Strain" in the early 70s. But lately, I have been inspired to go outside my comfort zone. I turned in my thirty percent off coupon and paid for my purchase.

Summer is the time for lounging by the pool with a page-turner, a cool drink, and armchair travel. These books will carry me to New York, Nantucket, and Wall. A quick peruse promises romance and excitement, at least on the written page! Among my summer's resolutions (why stop at New Year's?) is to revisit the classics and the concept of our life's journey changing our experience. The events in our lives do seem to alter the meaning or at least our perception of a song's lyrics or a best loved book. I will visit this idea in a future blog.

I will leave you for now with the smell of sunscreen, French fries, and chlorine. Here's to beach reads and the endless days of summer! Just remember to apply the SPF! And wait for an hour after eating before you jump in the pool!

The Red Sole

Since I started this blog, I have been writing about my obsession for my first pair of Christian Louboutin's. You may be surprised to find out that I actually purchased my first pair four days ago and have not yet posted the event. At the risk of losing this blog's PG, well, maybe PG-13 rating, I must mention that a shoe friend of mine has compared the purchase of one's first pair of red soles to losing one's virginity. I suppose a girl might buy her first pair on impulse. However, I tend to doubt it. There is generally an obsession followed by a plan, much like first love. First romance might be shared with your close girlfriends but not broadcast in all fifty states. Unless you happen to be Britney Spears. (Sorry, Britney! I was just reminded of Justin Timberlake's witty take on that during an SNL skit!) Maybe that is why I was reluctant to write about my experience. I do owe it to my readers. I have written about a massage which is much more intimate!

The story begins with the LOVE pump on Saks.com. I had e-mailed a j-peg file to Emily, my 12-old daughter and fashion confidante. While she agreed these shoes were a work of art and "really cute," she advised my first pair should be Simple 100's. (I do have mixed emotions about exposing my young daughter to the world of excess but I have taught her to balance philanthropy, education, and beauty.) Bearing in mind my shoe size and that Louboutin's run small, I spent some time in research. I was unable to find anything in the Valley or even Saks Beverly Hills. Barring a trip to Vegas, a department store was not an option. I called the Louboutin boutique on Burton Way in Beverly Hills. In actuality, if you are paying retail and can't jet to Paris or New York, the eponymous boutique (and one of two official boutiques in Southern California) would provide the perfect setting! I felt a bit of nerves as I dialed. I was brought back to junior high days when I would phone a crush, hanging up when he answered, the adolescent version of a drunk dial. I gathered my composure and asked about the availability of my shoes. The salesman returned to the phone, "Yes, we do have a pair of Simple 100's in black kid in your size!" Ah, music to my ears! I gave my name to hold a pair.

The following morning, I donned pantyhose and a black sheath dress along with my mother's Baccarat heart necklace which she had received upon her retirement as a realtor. My mom would be with me in spirit for this day. Following a job interview, I drove over a canyon to my destination, getting caught in post-graduation traffic from a ritzy private school. I made it over the canyon, appreciating the beauty of nature in which Los Angeles abounds. I parked my car on a side street and walked resolutely into the shop I have passed many times. The awning beckoned me inside. I perused the shelves lined with various shoes and nodded hello to a few fellow Louboutin fans or maybe addicts, heads tilted as they glanced down at the objects of affection on their feet. The salesgirl brought me the box. I sat down and slipped on the shoe. I felt a bit like Cinderella but did have some fear that I might be the Ugly Stepsister. Well, not ugly, but I was a little skittish that the shoe might not fit. If the shoe fits...you know the drill by now. I sauntered around the store in what would be my pair of red soles and was joining a somewhat exclusive club. I handed over cash, birthday gifts, Mother's Day gifts, other savings. The salesgirl asked my name which was entered in the system. I was handed my change and a natural colored bag reading "Christian Louboutin" in that fabulous font. That was it.

I cannot say it was anticlimactic. I love my shoes. I even wore them for several hours to an event which was no small feat since I must be honest. These are not the most comfortable shoes in the world But, what price beauty? The raison d'etre for four inch stilettos can never be comfort. We girls wax, prod, starve, stretch, and do all sorts of unnatural things to look good. Shoes are not an exception.

I didn't stand a chance. These shoes are my personal Kryptonite. I mean, Mr. Louboutin is French. He shares my birth year. He believes in shoes as art. I suppose I could have avoided temptation but there is no turning back. No regrets.

When I was five years old, my favorite book was "Le Ballon Rouge," a beautiful story from a film by Albert Lamorisse by the same title. My aunts even made a birthday party for me in honor of the book. My aunt Alice read the story and we released balloons in the sky. Hence began my love of anything French and maybe even the color red. I am not saying I blame you, Alice, but this moment may have begat several of my obsessions! It is, as they say, all good!

So, it is probably no coincidence that the endpiece of my on-going birthday celebration is a purchase of red-soled French shoes.

Finding My Sole-Mate

“Our soulmate is someone who shares our deepest longings, our sense of direction. When we're two balloons, and together our direction is up, chances are we've found the right person.”
(Richard Bach, author of 'Jonathan Livingston Seagull', b.1936)

"One that gives you the courage to be better than you are, not less than you are..." from the film "Nights on Rodanthe"

Whether we agree with Jerry McGuire's "You complete me" or support the idea of a couple being composed of three (you, me, and us), we spend much of our adult lives searching for our other half, confidante, person for whom we have an affinity. I personally spent more than a few Google-searches looking for even a synonym for this concept and this is the best I could find. If a clear definition is elusive, what can be said about an actual soulmate?

Classical literature, philosophies, and spirituality abound with ideas about this concept. In Greek mythology, humans originally had four arms, four legs, and two faces until Zeus, to retain his power, split each individual in two, sending us out in search of our "other half." Eve was fashioned from Adam's rib. In the realm of Karma and reincarnation, we seek those whom we have known in previous lives.

As an eternal romantic, I believe each one of us is entitled to our Romeo and Juliet or at the very least Ilsa and Rick. (Although I do question why destiny steps in to keep these folks apart; either destiny, hemlock, or Nazi occupation.) With each candle on our birthday cakes comes a deeper understanding or wisdom. Or so they tell us! I believe we are best prepared to meet a soulmate when we are whole ourselves. We should complement each other and inspire the best from each other.

In accessories, this would be represented by The Love Bracelet by Cartier. Created by the late Aldo Cipullo in 1969, this two piece bolted bracelet was a modern interpretation of the chastity belt. In other words, your soulmate would be the one who holds the key or in this case, tiny screwdriver with which you cannot remove said bracelet. Legend has it that Cartier policy prohibits anyone from buying the bracelet for him or herself. I think there is a name for someone who would attempt this purchase: a narcissist! In some circles, the bracelet's nickname is "bondage or slave" bracelet, but that's a whole other story! When The Love Bracelet was first introduced, Cartier gifted the bangle/screwdriver to popular couples of the day, including Liz and Dick, Cary and Dyan, Ali and Steve, Mai Britt and Sammy Davis, Jr., Sophia and Carlo Ponti, the Duke and Duchess of Windsor. Now, all of these couples have been separated by either divorce, break-ups or death which begs the question. Who gets custody of the mini-tool?

Despite the seemingly bad endings to these celebrity romances, I believe we should hold hope for eternal love, or at least the prospect of a Love Bracelet to call our own!

Forget Lust, This is LOVE!

The past few days, I have been using this blog to reflect on life's deeper issues. I have been pleasantly surprised by the countless shoe stories shared by friends and acquaintances who have been following my blog. As a tribute to my fellow shoe fanantics (or some would say fetishists!), today I will post about shoes which is what started me on my journey!

Perusing through my e-mails, I opened a sale notification from Saks.com, keeping my fingers crossed that I might find my red soles on sale. Alas, only in hot pink or yellow. Since I owned a pretty impressive collection of Charles Jourdan's back in the 1980's, I have gone the every color of the rainbow route. I am not all that tempted to revisit, although I did have quite a bit of fun traipsing around New York in shades of red, yellow, white, and aqua.

Time for some fantasy shoe shopping. Hit Christian Louboutin and see what happens. The usual charming suspects, lined in a row. I notice a suave shoe in the second row. Hmmm. This needs closer examination. I believe this shoe is winking at me. (And I haven't even had any cocktails today!) The LOVE pump? 4 inch black heels with the red sole; red patent design by throat. This design spells LOVE in shiny patent leather when together as a pair. I think I may have found the shoe of my dreams when I wasn't even looking! Fascinating, great sense of humor, dashing, sexy, this shoe has it all! I know the Simple 100 may be more classic and staid. But this shoe is too good to be true!

I hope all my single readers out there can find love as readily as I found the shoes of my dreams. I know your mothers have probably advised you love is found when you are not looking for it or when you are doing something else like attending a Learning Annex class in a male-dominated subject like Car Repair for Dummies. But, there is so much more excitement in catching the eye of that tall, handsome stranger in the corner. (Or in my case, the debonair pump at Saks.com!)

(Re) Create Yourself

Life isn't about finding yourself. It is about creating yourself. Perhaps when we reach midlife, we can recreate ourselves. Our forties and beyond can be filled with infinite possiblities. While we may lament the passage of our youth where the path ahead of us seemed endless, we are given second chances throughout our lives. Midlife is all about fine tuning our passions and decluttering our lives of the parts which don't work. Our destinies are not predetermined. We are constantly coming to intersections where we must make hard decisions.

As a child, I invented a game where I would toss a coin as I walked around my neighborhood. Heads, I would turn right; tails, I would turn left. Sometimes, I ended up lost. Other times, I ended up right back where I started. In retrospect, this game represents the first half of my life. I approached many life decisions with a metaphorical coin toss, making choices which looked good on paper. I ignored my gut instinct, often neglecting my passion. I ended up in a lukewarm place, sad that my life seemed mapped out ahead of me. Contemplating, I realize I may have been afraid to pursue my dreams because I had set my expectations so high. I envisioned what could be and was afraid of falling short on my journey or running out of gas.

As I celebrate yet another birthday, I realize life is not about the destination but about the roads we travel to get there. We may experience an occasional flat tire, fender-bender, and gridlock along the way but we need to look at those mishaps as opportunities to learn and grow. We must nurture our relationships with friends who support our authentic selves. Much of our lives may be spent presenting a facade or image. Fulfillment and happiness allude the spirit behind the that mask. When we invent or reinvent whom we truly are, we welcome passion back in our lives.

Midlife is not the on-ramp towards our destiny but the start of another journey. "This could be the start of something big." If not, "Ilsa, we will always have Paris."

Classy and Fabulous

Coco Chanel once advised, "A girl should be two things: classy and fabulous." As we tread the territory of middle-aged, this advice becomes increasingly more important. Do not let the "girl" sobriquet throw you off. Being a girl has less to do with age than with one's sense of self and style. Channel your inner Holly Golightly and you will remain forever young.

The French have a much gentler expression for the years between 40 and 60; une femme d'une certaine age. I will be sharing five rules a la francais which I have adopted in my personal style, rules to give you a timeless look to keep them guessing!

1. Be comfortable in your own skin. On the surface, this means remembering to apply your daily SPF, moisturizer, and springing for an occasional facial at Burke Williams. Going deeper, this means self-acceptance and knowing who you are. You are a beautiful woman with your own distinct personality. Dress accordingly.

2. Fads vs. Trends. Fads are the dysfunctional relationships of fashion. We are tempted to go back in time to correct mistakes. Don't. Trends are more about silhouette and color; skinny vs. wide leg; earth tones vs. brights. The rules are no longer hard and fast. If an A-line skirt suits your figure better than this season's pencil skirt, stick with the A-line.

3. Shop Religiously. Study Vogue and In Style for inspiration; then spend an afternoon in the Valley. Westfield-Topanga is now home to Rodeo Drive boutiques and Neiman's but you can still find fashion inspiration in your typical mall stores like Claire's, Target, and Banana Republic.

4. When In Doubt, Throw It Out -- Sometimes... Conventional wisdom counsels if you haven't worn something in 6 months, give it to Goodwill. I would agree if we were talking about the skintight black leather mini hanging in your closet since your Roxbury clubbing days. Or that moldy piece of cheese in the back of the fridge. That pair of black wool designer pants scored at Loehmann's can be tailored to fit your new shape. Serve that beautiful suit divorce papers or at least a trial separation. You might be able to pair the jacket with a flouncy skirt or jeans; the bottom can be teamed with a cashmere cardigan. The other exception is accessories. I recently reestablished a relationship with a Nicole Miller quilted purse, circa 1992, with a Vodka motif. Paired with a little black dress, it is much more of a conversation piece today than during President Clinton's first term!


5. Invest. The stock market and Southern California real estate may have plummeted but there is still value in a good haircut or a Wacoal bra fitted by an expert at Nordstrom's.

We may not be able to turn back the clock to 20, despite hours of Pilates and regular Botox, but we can look great for any age, timeless, classy, and fabulous!

Living in a Virtual World 'Cause I am a Virtual Girl

The internet has been one of history's most life-changing technologies, right up there with the invention of the telephone, radio, and television. E-mail, instant messaging, and Skype have changed the way we communicate with each other. The web has opened an unrivaled pathway to information, transforming the way students complete research projects. Of course, with the good comes the bad. Newspaper readership is at an all-low and many daily newspapers have folded or at the very least, have become a sparse collection of AP wire stories. People talk about the demise of the bookstore in favor of Kindle and other downloading technologies. While I quickly adapt to the changes, I am a strong proponent of the written word. I grew up browsing our World Book Encyclopedia and its annual updates. Many times, I would get lost in the library after school; my mother would contemplate filing a missing person's report. Alas, this was an era before cell phones and texting. I was the first to applaud the addition of Starbuck's to Barnes & Noble. A latte or even a drip while browsing the stacks of books? I think I do believe in heaven!

The internet has created a fourth virtual dimension. Initially, sites such as Classmates.com presented an online class reunion. We could Google and Zabasearch our way to find old boyfriends, girlfriends, classmates, roommates, and work colleagues. Of course, the reverse was also possible. We could no longer hide from the folks we may have decided to drop like a hot potato.

The advent of social networking sites such as Facebook has created a virtual community where we can reminisce with hometown chums, share ideas and conversation with a wide group of "friends." We no longer need to wait for annual holiday cards to post photos of our kids. We can even browse our elementary school class pictures or college era photos others may have posted. We find new friendships among people we may not have seen in 25 plus years.

Yet, the reunion aspect and comment-sharing applications of Facebook are just the tip of the iceberg. At a late night birthday dinner with a new friend, we discussed social networking. My friend profoundly noted when we reconnect with those from our past, we are looking for pieces of ourselves.

An intricate highway of experiences have led us to this stage of our lives. We would not be who we are today without the sum total of our past relationships. In order to move forward on life's journey, we need to stop at traffic lights along the way. As we come to an intersection, we must often make difficult choices. Reflecting on our youth, we may lament a time when the road was entirely ahead of us. We may become nostalgic for simpler times. Reminiscing with our childhood and high school friends provides comfort food for our souls. Our journeys may be far from complete. We will continue to come to forks in the road which will determine our futures. As the map unfolds, we write our own stories. Along the way, we may be surprised with relationships rekindled from earlier days. Finding a precious friend among those whose paths we may have crossed in the past is most extraordinary. People come in and out of our lives for a reason. We guide each other through difficult times and laugh through the good times. We nurture and inspire each other.

A friend is one that knows you as you are, understands where you have been, accepts what you have become, and still, gently allows you to grow.” (William Shakespeare.)