I know things ordinary people don’t know because I
was born with a very unusual heart,
grew up in an Orthodox Jewish household,
had an incredibly funny, creative, and kind father, who loved to make people laugh,
had an incredibly caring, kind, clean and neat mother, who loved to laugh,
realized I had a connection with cats when I was very young,
had my first major heart surgery when I was 10 on the day that President John F. Kennedy was assassinated,
have relied on cardiac pacemakers to keep me alive since that day,
spent a lot of time in hospitals where I met many different types of people,
danced in our basement to musicals when nobody was watching,
read voraciously when I was young,
learned to play the piano, guitar, and ukulele,
attended three schools where everyone there knew I had a heart condition,
travelled across the USA by bus when I was 21,
visited many different countries,
danced, danced, danced in the 1970s even though my heart rate was fixed at 72 beats per minute,
majored in English literature at college,
worked as a technical writer, marketing writer, teacher, manager, and psychotherapist,
volunteered for several years at a suicide hotline,
attended graduate schools for film studies and social work,
love hearing other people’s stories,
married two extraordinary men,
gave birth to an extraordinary son when I was 45 years old,
saw people behave at their best and their worst and everything in between (including me),
survived the coronavirus,
have kept learning from all the people I have encountered in my long life, and
have the Daily Bitch calendar, which knows a lot.
Can you tell that I know things ordinary people don’t know from the rest of today’s photos?
Harley knows things that ordinary cats don’t know, but he’s not telling.
It’s a good thing I know things that ordinary people don’t know, because I’ll be teaching several interns about my Coping and Healing groups this morning at 9.
Here is “I Know Things Now” from Into the Woods by Stephen Sondheim, whom I’ve known I’ve loved for a long, long time.
I also know gratitude that ordinary people don’t know, every day, so thanks to to all the extraordinary people I’ve known, including YOU!
As a psychotherapist, I love listening to other people’s stories.
What I DON’T love is other people who act like only their story is:
real,
legitimate, and
worth listening to.
These days, more than ever, it’s important to make room for the stories that are not being heard. Why aren’t they being heard? Because people with power/the spotlight are
loud,
disrespectful of others,
disinterested in the facts,
obsessed with their own grievances,
trying to hold on to power, and
apparently not interested in other people’s stories.
If you do not leave room for other people’s stories, the dominant story becomes strident, repressive, demoralizing, inaccurate, and eventually obsolete. Personally, I am fighting for other people’s stories (including my own!) to be heard, so we can all survive together.
Here is one person’s photographic story for the day:
In my story, there is always room for the the Daily Bitch, love, AND your stories (in the comments section below).
This feels relevant for me: our beloved kitty Oscar is approaching the end of his life. The reason Megan’s family has a cat today is because Oscar visited with her and her husband Paul many years ago and, with his relevant charming and chill nature, convinced skeptical Paul that cats could be incredibly wonderful.
As I’m writing this-feels-relevant-for-me blog post, Oscar is crying over his water bowl and I’m crying with anticipatory grief.
It’s jaw dropping to me that I forgot about the invitation (which I included in yesterday’s post) to stream Stephen Sondheim’s 90th birthday celebration last night, with its jaw-dropping lineup of stars:
I have found many things jaw-dropping lately, including
American leadership’s responses to the pandemic crisis,
racism, sexism, ageism, and homophobia,
how difficult it is for people to get what they need,
how little there is to celebrate these days, and
people’s ability to celebrate, anyway.
Do you see anything jaw-dropping in my photos from yesterday?
It’s jaw dropping
that there was no spinach, parsley, or flour at the supermarket yesterday,
the delicious meal Michael made anyway,
how hard nurses work for us every day of the year,
the level of suffering out there, and
how lucky I am, here and now.
Here‘s the jaw-dropping celebration of Stephen Sondheim from last night:
I look forward to your jaw-dropping comments with (of course!) jaw-dropping gratitude.
It’s important for me to remember that my friend Jeanette noticed that Liane looks like the dancer emoji💃 in that old photo.
It’s important for me to remember that Liane danced in one of my favorite musical numbers ever, “America,” even though I was too young to see her in it. Here’s “America” from the film version of West Side Story.
It’s important to remember that people will be dancing together again, eventually, in New York and elsewhere.
What do you think is important to remember, here and now?
I hope you remember that I’m grateful to YOU, every day.
How bad could it be that I’m self quarantining, knowing I’m doing the best for myself and for all those I care about?
How bad could it be for me to share these photos with my good readers?
How bad could it be if
Michael cooks delicious pasta and
Oscar and Harley look up and share our happiness?
How bad could it be if Stephen Sondheim is turning 90 years old this month? Here he is playing “Move On” at the memorial service for Michael Bennett, who died during the AIDS pandemic:
How bad could it be where you are, here and now?
How good could it be to express gratitude to all those I appreciate, including YOU?