Her New York's Debutante Of The Year

You can spend years in a room.   Wondering if that whole "caterpillar in a cocoon" thing was just a fairy tale that kept you locked up.   Until one day you're done and it's finished and you push open the door to a huge world and you come out, bursting with brilliance that would make the most beautiful butterfly weep with envy.

And that's exactly what Carola Dibbell's debut novel, THE ONLY ONES has done. 

And it will soon be available.

Below are excerpts from TWO DOLLAR RADIO's announcement and interview:

With a stylish voice influenced by years of music writing, The Only Ones is a time-old story, tender and iconic, about how much we love our children, however they come, as well as a sly commentary on class, politics, and the complexities of reproductive technology. It is an outstanding book, grand in scope, relatable, heartbreaking, accessible, that I know will turn a lot a lot of heads.

TWO DOLLAR: The Only Ones is your debut novel, and we’ve scheduled it to publish in March 2015, which is a month before your 70^th birthday. That’s pretty rad.

CAROLA:  Having said all that about the dignity of unrecognized labor, let me be clear. It is a life-changing event to have  work I’ve put so much into about to head out in the world. I find myself thinking I should finally start cardio workouts so I’ll be alive to write the next novel. I think about the shape of a life with this late-breaking twist.  It is very, very sweet.

It also would have been sweet at sixty.

Even fifty.

Happy Birthday, Carola!

**
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Admiring The Moon Over The Capital

Two Dollar Radio Announcement

Sunday Memories: Returning to Oz

 John Waters didn't understand why Dorothy wanted to go home.

"To that awful black-and-white farm, with that aunt who was dressed badly, with smelly farm animals around when she could live with winged monkeys and magic shoes and gay lions. I didn't get it."

But what if someone was clicking their heels to get back home to Oz.

From the first airplane ride thirty-five years ago to the one just last week, seeing home in the distance, that wasn't Nebraska or Kansas or wherever rising up from the horizon.  It was Oz.  Beckoning me back from a black-and-white world and flying me into color.

Perhaps Mr. Waters didn't know, but Mr. Baum wrote 14 more books after that first one.  Dorothy returned many times to Oz.  She needed to go home to a place that was the color of her heart and soul.

**

Related Post: 

Sunday Memories: The Long And Winding Road That Leads To The Light At The End Of The Tunnel

Friday's Child Is Loving And Giving And Knows You Want That Puppy In The Window

BESSIE!!!

She's sweet and  sweet and really sweet.

Did we mention she was sweet?

Contact:  Dimitra@socialteesnyc.org

ELEMENT, THE SHIH TZU MIX!!!!

He's three years old, 18 lbs, and just got groomed so he's feeling (and smelling) fresh as a daisy.  He's housebroken, hypoallergenic, and a big cuddle bug!! 

He's fine with cats and most dogs, but miserable at the shelter.  Rescue him!! He wants your tender charms 'Coz he's lonely and he's blue and he need you and your love too!!!!!

Contact:  samantha@socialteesnyc.org

GERTIE!!!

She's a puppy with Moxy!

Contact:  Dimitra@socialteesnyc.org

MICHAEL!

Six years old, 20 lbs, and overflowing with doggy charm.  He was completely covered in matted fur when he arrived at the kill shelter (his eyes were covered!), but one solid grooming later and he's loving the summer breeze he's probably feeling for the first time in his life. 

Michael is friendly with everyone he meets, good with other dogs and cats, and truly enjoys lying at your feet while you lounge on a park bench. Adopt him now!! He's ready to be your loyal companion forever!!!

Contact:  samantha@socialteesnyc.org

Why does Her New York
care about animal rescue?

BECAUSE and BECAUSE....

... the only time the Mariner and I got a full night's sleep was in a hotel.

And yet... WE MISSED THE LITTLE BUGGERS!!!!

JOIN THE LOVE!!!!!
ADOPT!!
FOSTER!!!!
SUPPORT!!!

SOCIAL TEES IN THE EAST VILLAGE!!!

Come Volunteer!!! 

Come Visit!!!!

 Come On In!!!!!

 
Social Tees  
325 East 5th Street, NY, NY 10003
socialteesnyc.org
www.facebook.com/SocialTeesAnimalRescue 

The Paintings He Breathes Out:William Chaiken

He was the young painter who sat in a Henry Street Settlement House dance studio every morning, listening to my mother, Florence commence her morning practice.   The scales, the etudes, the repertoire of  a young pianist becoming his private concert.

 His painting, given or sold to Florence decades ago, is part of home, always has been.

At 92, he doesn't 'still' paint.  He paints.  Just like Florence played.  Just like Jutta explores.   Just like....  we all breathe until we don't.  There is no 'still' about it.  

He may not be under the Williamsburg Bridge, but somewhere where there are trees and solitude and quiet and a cat that acts as both muse and boss, he paints. 

His work will be on display until July 27 at the Pomona Cultural Center, New York.

  **
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The Pomona Village Cultural Center

Sunday Memories: The Painting

Répétez, S'il Vous Plaît

Sunday Memories: All Together Again In Jutta's Kitchen

She's Leaving Home, Bye, Bye

The Look Of Love Because This Is What It Looks Like:Part Three

Some places in the world you get killed for being human outside the lines of man-made bullshit.

But here on East 23rd Street, it is the touch between two who walk the walk towards an end that, along with taxes, is guaranteed.

It is the touch between me and the Mariner, whether we are home or whether we are enjoying rare moments together. 

It is molecular intimacy grown from years of breathing together.

It is the best friend...

...the favorite lover...

...the only one.

And, here on East 23rd Street, it's fucking normal.

It is Her New York.

**
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First In The Eyes Of God, Then In The Eyes Of New York And Now By The Law Of The Land!!!

Sunday Memories: The Look Of Love

The Look Of Love: Part One

The Look Of Love: Part Two

Sunday Memories:  The Future Look Of Love

Knock Down Seven...

In Memoriam Of A Sunday Memory - Cuz Its Your Birthday

The Big Leaps And Little Steps In The March To Commitment

Special Encore:  The Lionesses Rule The Pride

In Memoriam Of A Sunday Memory - Cuz It's Your Birthday

Originally posted August 17, 2008, 

My cousin, who had already made sure I got through adolescents in one piece, had just scooped me up in New York and taken me to Atlantic City to lick my wounds after being left in an ignoble manner.  

Taking charge of raising a child not her own, she was my guiding force and my moral compass.  She died in February.




'Cuz when there is no refuge except by an ocean there's only one person in the world to go with.

'Cuz you were brave enough to enter a car with me at the wheel knowing I didn't understand the concept "stay in between the lines."

'Cuz there was no one else in my life I could ask those questions and you answered them. (And I'm sure you NEVER repeated our conversation to anyone else.)

'Cuz you let me borrow it.

'Cuz you went forward and forward and forward again.



'Cuz you're the only person who could flip me the bird and still make great art.

'Cuz to shop like that takes talents guts and skill and you are the best argument for shopping to be in both summer and winter Olympics.

'Cuz of that day we walked through the old old neighborhood and we understood we are the ones left to remember.

'Cuz of every meal you shared with me.

'Cuz you trusted me with your kids. Even after we all took the 5th.

'Cuz the generosity was at a price and I hope I did right by you when I passed it forward.

'Cuz again you went forward and forward and forward again.



**
Related Posts:

Sunday Memories: The Daughter, The Granddaughters, The Women From Her New York

There Was No Ark For These Friday's Children

ANIMALS 

HURT AND DISPLACED 

BY THE BALKANS FLOODS

NEED YOUR SUPPORT

You've probably all heard about the terrible floods washing over much of the Balkans right now, destroying many homes and lives. 

One of Social Tees' top volunteers is from Croatia, and her friends back home are desperately struggling to rescue thousands of dogs, cats, and farm animals that are in serious danger. 

Appalling numbers of animals have already perished, but the rescue groups there have saved many and THEY NEED YOUR HELP in order to save more! 

ST's volunteer says: "Animals are getting pulled out but there are a lot of dead ones The water is getting polluted and the ones that survived are getting sick and we are sending medicine etc. But more is needed! Everyone is really chipping in and I’m so proud how people came to gather not only to take care of people but animals as well." 

PLEASE MAKE A DONATION!!! Just $5 or $10 makes a huge difference. Learn more at https://www.facebook.com/udruga.devet.zivota.osijek/info And send a donation via PayPal to mhunjadi.9zivota@gmail.com. (Include a note that payment is for animals affected by the floods.)

Company Returns

You can barely see them.

But go look closely at that rock rising out of a man-made pond that's  hanging around in a lot waiting to become out-of-reach-expensive housing

He's standing guard and she's kinda  hidden in the weeds. 

I had seen them a year ago.  Passing that lot many times after I kept looking for them.

Then on a day, just today, so unspring-like, rushing through cold when just yesterday it had been summer-hot, I glanced through the chain-linked fence.

He was swimming around and so was she and then I looked closely.

There, paddling after her were a whole bunch of itty-bitties.   No matter how cold it was, spring and its company had returned home.

**
Related Posts:

Company

The Long March

When he moved to Southern California to keep his sister company as she faded to the end, he walked everywhere.  After all, in New York, he walked everywhere.  A train or a bus were second choice and a taxi was for emergencies only.

And even though he got a car for those last few years at the job, and again when he moved to California, driving was never very comfortable.  He had learned too late and did a lot of steering wheel gripping as he kept to the speed limit while other drivers honked and yelled at him as they flew by.

So here, in sunny Southern California, it was nothing to him to walk 20 miles a day, no snow or ice to keep him from discovering the cul de sacs and sprawling suburbs now his new city.   Perhaps it is why at 93 the doctor keeps telling him he's doing "real fine".  

His legs walked him into these late years, still living on his own (kinda) and still physically robust (kinda).  But those long walks have now faded fast and gone, and the five minute walk to the end of the hall and back took more like 12 minutes and all I could think was shit if he topples over I'm fucked.

**
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Sunday Memories: "I'm Your Memory"

That's what Len says every time Seymour says he can't remember.

Not stuff like the thousand of jokes or remnants of Marx Brothers songs or ditties from the lower east side my father can rattle off for hours on end.

No.  Just the next five minutes.  If he and Len are going to the bank or the supermarket. If it was lunch or time to sit the couch.

"I don't remember."

"Don't worry about it.  I'm your memory."

Len is.  He remembers the schedule of each hour and every day.  He know every doctor and every check up.  He knows what meals are incoming and what medicines are running out.  

But I wonder who holds the other memories.  Not the joke or that the supermarket is next.  But the other ones....

...like the smell of the cake his mother used to bake in coffee cans when they lived at Knickerbocker Village.

**

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Ode To Spring, New York Old School Style

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Friday's Child Is Loving And Giving And Just Flew In From Los Angeles.Boy! Are Their Arms Tired!

Foster these puppies and all the others 

and no more bad jokes will be told....

MIDORI!

 She's a charming little one-eyed poodle. This curly little girl lost her eye due to an abusive former owner, but you'd never know it considering how happy, grateful, cuddly, and loving she is.

 BOYCHIK!

He's the perfect size!  Scoop him up under your arm and hit the town!

Bonus:A total chick or hunk magnet!!!!!!

LOVE WINS THE DAY AGAIN 

WITH MORE SOCIAL TEES SUCCESSES!!!

Social Tees just got an amazing email from a family that adopted a puppy last week and had to share it. 

These girls, chock full of ambition and compassion, were so inspired to give back to the community after they adopted their pooch that they decided set up a lemonade stand and donate all proceeds to Social Tees. 

The awesome little ladies and their tiny canine companion (Pippa fka Nikki) raised a whopping $40. WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!! That's a lot of lemonade.

Social Tees says:  THANK YOU, GIRLS!!!!! We are blown away by your awesomeness and so grateful for your help. xoxoxoxo

Why does Her New York
care about animal rescue?

BECAUSE and BECAUSE....

...Everybody, at least once or three times in their life, should feel so much love that they get up at 4 #$*&)$&#*$ AM IN THE MORNING...

 - I'm not saying, I'm just saying -

...and puts out not one BUT TWO different kinds of cat food because the Big Boy wanted to have it his way.

JOIN THE LOVE!!!!!
ADOPT!!
FOSTER!!!!
SUPPORT!!!

SOCIAL TEES IN THE EAST VILLAGE!!!

Come Volunteer!!! 

Come Visit!!!!

 Come On In!!!!!

Social Tees  
325 East 5th Street, NY, NY 10003
socialteesnyc.org
www.facebook.com/SocialTeesAnimalRescue 

What My Phone Saw

New Ancient Remains Of The Day

Those little marble square tiles probably made the bathroom in 1903 or 1908 or whenever the building became a home, the height of modern interior design.  It was unearthed after an angry leak from 100 year old pipes, hidden under snappy turquoise tile that were the height of modern interior design in the 1950's.

The piece of a wall, one not made of plaster or whatever walls are made of, but of 100 years of paint, each coat the 'now' color of any modern wall, piling up like the rings of a redwood tree until it was thicker than cardboard.

And the Buddha. Maybe the hippest thing to have in the 1970's, hand painted by the girlfriend of his brother who died and then she went out with a woman and got sick and died and the woman died in a car crash, and it had lived twenty years in his home, moved from room to room until it landed in the kitchen, gathering layers of 7300 days of meals cooked and coffee brewed and tea steeped, and finally, he, making his own fresh start in life, asked if it could live with us.

**
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Flying Time

Perhaps she was remembering when her embrace was bigger than her son...

**
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Sunday Memories: In The Happy Cacophony Of A Visit...

Sunday Memories Of A Moment Long Ago: My Mama Done Told Me

As the Mariner and I trot off to a wedding, the subject of love weighs on our minds.

Originally posted on May 8, 2008:




Florence is refusing to do much but lie in bed.

I say, "Fine. You don't want to get out of bed, then go lay down and die."

She yells, "Lie down! Lie down!"

I say, "You can't get out of bed, but you can still correct my grammar?"

She yells, "Yes! It matters!"

I yell, "THEN GET OUT OF BED!"

She doesn't.

The Jonathan Schwartz show starts.

We settle in to listen.

I look at her butchered hair. That's because the week before I took the household scissors and chopped off big chunks of it. I did that because it was a huge halo of wildness, so thick and silver sparkling. Now it was a huge halo of wildness that got caught in a buzz saw.

Sinatra comes on. She sings along.

"My mama done told me... a woman is two faced... cry in the night..."

Knowing something of her dating history, I ask her if that's true.

She says, "I didn't make it up. That's what's written.

I start laughing. She asks why.

"You're singing with heart.”

Shrugs, "I'm just trying to get the words."

And then she - who broke many hearts of many old girls and garnered many angry love letters and hurtful looks across crowded dances put on by the local gay senior citizen group - she looks up and asks, "Is it true? A woman is two faced?"

**
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Conjugating Love

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Friday's Child Is Loving And Giving And Needs A Couple Of Heroes!

Ok. 
Fifteen to be exact.
To foster incoming small dogs 
just rescued from a kill shelter
in Los Angeles

Social Tees reached its Los Angeles Rescue Mission fundraising goal, and the first group of dogs arrives tomorrow morning!!! 

They're looking for foster homes for 15 super-duper friendly, small dogs.  Each one is under 20 pounds and good with other animals. 

Pickup is at Social Tees at 11am; fostering lasts one or two weeks. 

Email samantha@socialteesnyc.org NOW if you can help!!! 

Why does Her New York
care about animal rescue?

BECAUSE and BECAUSE....

...and because they are 'heart-openers'.

Someone recently said that to me.  "This prayer is a heart-opener."   It was a meta - a Buddhist prayer that welcomed in an antidote to feeling murderous about another human being.  Or political party.  Either one.... or both.  Maybe even all of the above.

The fact was when I did the Buddhist prayer, that gnawing emptiness dissolved and peace filled me. 

The Big Boy and the Little Girl look at me and the Mariner as a can-opener, and the minute they heard that particular 'crack' sound of a metal lid being pulled back they come sprinting across floors at the speed of Superman.

So, perhaps that's all it is. Something being opened and all of us filling up with nourishment of one sort or another.

JOIN THE LOVE!!!!!
ADOPT!!
FOSTER!!!!
SUPPORT!!!

SOCIAL TEES IN THE EAST VILLAGE!!!

Come Volunteer!!! 

Come Visit!!!!

 Come On In!!!!!

Social Tees  
325 East 5th Street, NY, NY 10003
socialteesnyc.org
www.facebook.com/SocialTeesAnimalRescue 

An Encore That Celebrates The Diaspora Of Beds: A Woman's Bed Where She Lies and Tells Poems*

Originally posted August 14, 2008.

It's rumored to be made of horse hair, this bed she has slept in since 1977. Bought with the girlfriend, the only one she lived with and I think there was even a story of bringing the bed into the building, giggling like mad because neighbors watched and knew something different was happening behind closed doors in that apartment. (Or maybe that was the Christmas Tree story, another act of terrorism that only two middle aged Lesbians could do to a Jewish enclave.)

I have rarely laid on this bed. I have cleaned, made, stripped this bed, sprayed this bed with Febreze, sat, held and comforted on this bed, dressed, undressed and clipped her nails on this bed. But all the times, thinking she was back on Hester Street where sleepovers were common between friends, when Florence invited me to "lie down and go to sleep" in this bed, I said no.

Her bed, the place she has loved in, lost in, splintered peace with frightening dreams in, climaxed in, refused to cry in, the bed she cradled herself through sleep, the radio playing all night NPR news shows. The bed she bought to begin new life, new hope new love. The bed no man has slept in. The bed where she told herself better futures and worst pasts. A woman's bed filled with poems, poems told fiercely as reality shattered and disappointment flooded.

Soon, tomorrow the new electric hospital bed will arrive with its hydraulic lift for less back-breaking bed bathing of Florence by G. and P. and bars to keep Florence from falling out in the middle of the night. G. and I will somehow coax her from her old bed. I will lie, not in the bed, but to her face. I will say "we are putting you in a special bed just for a little while. Until you get better and can sit up without being dizzy. And when you do and when you are walking again, you'll go lay down in your own bed and then we will go to Coney."

And she will correct me and say "Coney ISLAND. And I will LIE down not LAY down."

And I will nod and know my lie is forever.

*Dedicated to Florence's demand proper grammar be engaged: One does not LAY down. One LIES down.


FOLLOW-UP

Ray and Dennis set up the new stage of her life.

Ode To Spring, New York City Old School Style

Spring is sprung
The grass is rizz
I wonder where da birdie is

- My father's idea of poetry that celebrates the change of seasons.

**
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Getting Lost In The Dangling Conversation

Car Ride To The Doctor

Spring Sprang

Spring Has Sprung Across America

Hope Springs Eternal

When All Was Said And Done

Sunday Memories: Diaspora In The Key Of Life

These got surrendered to the person who is making a new home.

There is no way to walk away from an internal hope that home might for a brief second feel like it once did. 

Except to put keys on a table and, after lengthy and heated discussions, push them into waiting hands.

Florence, too, pushed, keys to new homes across many tables into waiting hands.

Keys to new ideas, new practices, new worlds, new ways of walking down a street, literally and metaphorically.

She said, "Why don't you keep a diary?"  I was 12.  It was learning to risk a full sentence.  It was a bridge over a moat of silence.  It was a coat of armor in the middle of battles.   It was a way out of hell.

She said, "Go see this movie.  It's important."  I was 13.  It was Jules Et Jim.  It was 8 1/2.  It was A Man And A Woman.  It was the unexpected moment when I suddenly saw for the first time what my thoughts looked like.  It was important.
 
And there were keys she didn't realize she was giving.  Like the ones to my own home, found after months of wandering from place to place, the fight between us too permanent,  that even though I still had keys to her home, that door was no longer mine to open.

Until.

Years later, those keys had to become my sister's and mine so Florence could be safe in her own home.  Pushed across a table made of lost health and a failing mind.  Given reluctantly, given in fear, given barely trusting, given away and given up. 

Yet, in surrendering those keys, the home she had always lived in became a home filled with mothering she had never known before.  Those keys that once locked her door now opened it to care and nurturing and love. It was, finally, the home she had secretly dreamed of.

Whether any of us knew it or not, those keys were her last gift to us.  

Because after those lengthy and heated discussions, those keys got pushed into new waiting hands, and in return, checks got pushed across the table to us. 

And suddenly there were keys to a world only dreamed of, only seen in others' lives, only imagined.

After so many Mother's Day she scoffed at, not wanting to be thanked for giving birth or raising us, the most surprising gift she ever gave was the most motherly thing she ever did.

A way to a home that began to feel like home once did. 

**
Related Posts:

Sunday Memories:  Mother's Day

Another Sunday Memory, Another Mother's Day

Sunday Memories:  My First Date With Bond

Sunday Memories - The Exhaustion of Diaspora: Part Seven - Try to Remember The Kind of September*

The Exhaustion of Diaspora: Part Six - Home Where My Love Lies Waiting*

The Exhaustion of Diaspora: Part Five - " It's The Pebble, Not The Stream"*

The Exhaustion of Diaspora: Part Four - Hyman Comes To Visit

The Exhaustion of Diaspora: Part Three - Even The Baby Chair Is A Transient Moment

The Exhaustion of Diaspora: Part Two- The Ladies of the Pizza

Sunday Memories - The Exhaustion of Diaspora: Part One

Emptying Into Open

Faster Than A Cable Car Going Down A Hill

Friday's Child Is Loving And Giving And Occasionally Late

Why does Her New York
post about animal rescue?

BECAUSE and BECAUSE....

The Big Boy (Jupiter) and the Little Girl (Goldie) finally reached detente on an issue other than pigeons.  Breakfast.  Breakfast at either 5:50am or 6:07am.  But not 6:15.  I'm not sure how they negotiated who does what when, but between 5:50am and 6:07am, they take turns waking one of us up (me).  It's almost like being the floor in a tap dance-off.

First she paws at different parts of my body then he paws my cheek then she purrs in my ear then he licks my eyes and paws my cheek then she paws at my head and purrs in my ear then drops a ball of yarn on my face then he bites my face but not hard licks my eyes paws my cheeks then she paws my head purrs in my ear paws my stomach drops a ball of yarn on my facecries paws at my feet then he bites my leg cries paws my cheek licks my eye cries bites my....

6:08am a can is being opened.

On the other hand, I've never been more on time to work.

Want your own loveable alarm clock?????

 
Catzilla, 33 pound mega cat, needs a foster home!!! He's huge, awesome, ORANGE and good with other animals. Social Tees recently rescued this monster from the kill shelter and he needs a home to chill out in.
 

Bunny is 2 yrs old and 11 lbs, super friendly!! 

SUCCESS SUCCESS SUCCESS!

AND THEY LIVED
HAPPILY EVER
AFTER!!!

Social Tees pulled this 10-year-old totally gorgeous Pomeranian mix from the kill shelter a little over a month ago and fell WAY in love as soon as he arrived. 

Then his foster mom fell WAY in love too and decided she simply couldn't live without him... so she adopted this special senior fluff ball. 

She says: "Swatches (FKA Kaos) comes to work with me almost every day and will probably be promoted to art director pretty soon. He's a sweet, relaxed old dog who loves watching X-Files on his days off, but also loves long walks and playing chase. Whenever he sees me pick up his leash he circles and stomps his paws with excitement! He's very loyal and has quickly become my new best bud — so happy I ended up adopting him! Thanks for everything guys!!!"

JOIN THE LOVE!!!!!
ADOPT!!
FOSTER!!!!
SUPPORT!!!

SOCIAL TEES IN THE EAST VILLAGE!!!

Come Volunteer!!! 

Come Visit!!!!

 Come On In!!!!!

Social Tees  
325 East 5th Street, NY, NY 10003
socialteesnyc.org
www.facebook.com/SocialTeesAnimalRescue