Rarely am I stumped when formulating a battle plan. I am good with words and my favorite weapon is to write insightful commentary that forces the reader to consider all sides to an issue. Violent crime… rape, in particular… is one of my favorite topics.
Jeanette's hands clenched as though holding tight for support. She would not fail this time. Like a feral cat, she would not be owned. She would not allow herself to be handled or touched. Aloofness would be the face she wore in public, but after dusk -- after the sun went down -- she would prowl. She would roam the streets and back alleys looking for other strays like herself. Then, when there was strength in numbers…
Both as an author and as the Executive Director of the Palm Beach Institute for the Entertainment Arts, literacy is always on my mind. In the writing and acting classes we offer at PBIEA, I have grown weary of preaching the need to speak (pronounce the endings on words) and write using proper spelling, grammar and punctuation.
A reason to laugh… that was the first thing 10-year-old Mary Murphy wished for each morning when she opened her eyes. Unfortunately, laughter had no place in her life, especially on Saturday mornings. Before her feet even hit the floor, she knew exactly what to expect. Her mother, Audrey, would be sitting at the kitchen table making lists on the back of old envelopes… one list for the grocery store and one list for the butcher. It was Mary’s responsibility to do all the shopping and cleaning because Audrey was always sick… sick being a selective term used to describe the alcohol and drug induced stupors that kept her incapacitated most days.
Bob Weaver had lusted after Justine since senior year at Wellington High School. She was the captain of the cheerleaders. He was “the Dweeber,” an anagram of his middle initial and last name. For Justine, the highpoint of her high school years had been being named homecoming queen. For Bob, it was making it through a day without being pantsed. Bob wanted nothing more than to graduate. Actually, he wanted nothing more than for Justine to notice him even if it meant she was laughing at him.
I originally wrote the following editorial, which was published in the Jupiter Courier, in 2014. Nearly 10 years have passed and nothing has changed. No. That is a lie. A lot has changed… for the worse. For many reasons, not the least of which are the dwindling economy and lingering covid over-reaction, the arts are slowly dying. Local, state and federal governments do not recognize the value the arts bring to their communities.
With marriage and motherhood, 25 years passed before I returned to corporate America. Since my son had moved to California to pursue his dreams and my daughter was working full time, I decided to reenter the business world and chose a small construction company where I would be the only woman in charge of 20 men. I like men. I have always liked working with men. They make the day go by quickly and, usually, painlessly.
A year passed during which I thoroughly enjoyed learning the Japanese culture and benefiting from association with some wonderful people whom I have not forgotten to this day. Then… change hung in the air like the Sword of Damocles.
Every culture has its biases. Much like the Hatfields of West Virginia and the McCoys of Kentucky, the Japanese people and the Korean people are distrustful of each other. The gulf in their relationship goes back to 1910, but I was unaware of it until I began working at Nikko Securities on Wall Street.
In the mid 1970s, I was one of only two Americans working for the second largest Japanese securities firm in New York; the other being a man who handled domestic trades. The president of the firm was shorter than my 5’4” and stocky. What he lacked in height, he made up for with personality and wit.
When I returned to corporate America in 2002, after spending 25 years managing my husband’s medical practice and caring for a home and family, I was filled with trepidation. I was terrified that my once finely honed business acumen would be lacking in a world that had continued to move forward technologically while I changed diapers and burped babies. My fears were quickly put to rest as I experienced first hand the old adage, “The more things change….” Some aspects of a corporate environment are stagnant no matter how much “change” takes place.
My husband is fond of saying that the best place for sexy lingerie is on the rack at Victoria’s Secret. He has never understood the need for satin and lace or garters and fishnet stockings. To him, underwear is a functional necessity not a stimulant. While I respect his views, I do like the look and feel of intimate apparel against my skin.
There is a voice I keep hearing in my head. It is my mother saying, “If all your friends jumped off the George Washington Bridge, would you jump, too?” I do not imagine there is anyone over the age of 10 who does not recognize the reason for mom’s question. Growing up, any act of stupidity on my part was always explained by wailing, “Everybody’s doing it!”
Sit behind steering wheel. Shift into drive. Place right foot on gas. Move forward. Pick up speed. Bow head. Direct eyes toward lap. Place four fingers of each hand behind cellphone. Use thumbs to type message. Swerve into my lane. Swerve back when I honk. Slow down on green light. Speed up on red light. Slam on brakes.
My mother was a powerhouse for 96 years. She fought death every second of every day of every week of every month. Up to the very end, she lived on her own, cooked, cleaned and derived great satisfaction from driving my sister and me crazy. Until she actually passed away, I was willing to make bet that she would outlive both of us.
On May 23rd, Netflix aired Victim/Suspect, a documentary by investigative reporter Rae de Leon. Leon claims to have spent four years investigating a pattern of offenses perpetrated against rape victims by the law enforcement officers assigned to the cases. The documentary is skewed… another attempt to use the horrific nature of rape to get rich by twisting the truth.
If you watched the news this morning, you saw images of the American flag being flown from poles, peaks and pinnacles… from the sides of buildings and ships… from atop Mount Everest and on the moon. Our flag is so much more than a piece of fabric imprinted with stars and stripes.
The media has been abuzz recently reporting an increase in class action law suits targeting Burger King, McDonalds, Taco Bell, Wendy's and most other fast food giants. In 2010, there were 45 such suits. In 2022, that number rose to 214. Most of the suits were for false advertising and misleading consumers into thinking they were getting more for their bucks.
According to Wikipedia, a double standard is the application of different principles for similar situations or by different people in the same situation. Most discussions of the double standard reference workplace inequities. A Carnegie Mellon/Harvard study (2010) found that qualified women were less likely to be hired if they appeared pushy. Women resisted and resented the suggestion that they tone down their communication style during interviews so as to appear more moderate. That resistance was justified.
Well… it did not take long. School has been back in session in Florida for only a few weeks and the book banning band of discordant musicians is back in full swing. People on Facebook (and only God knows where else) are claiming that The Diary of Anne Frank has been banned in our schools. Not so.
