Happy Mother’s Day From A Father’s Daughter – 2017


Happy Mother’s Day Rere

I wondered if this had changed in the four years since I first wrote it.  No, not really we are still, my mother and I, something…best described as comfortably, and now mutually, respectful.

She is now soon to be 87 years old and my father has been gone 12 years…12 years still seems like the day before yesterday and I remain very much my father’s daughter. My nest egg has grown and her’s remains wonderful as some frugal habits are hard to relinquish.

To her credit, and her benefit,  the one time she didn’t start from no, didn’t say no, resulted in the love affair of the decade.  She has developed a true and deep love of an old dog.  She and Toti Nonna continue to save each other each week since Lina died.  They are the reason each looks forward to the weekend.

I’ve had a new string of wonderful young people cycle through my life and on to live their fullest lives and I fully anticipate this will happen again and again.  There is something to be said for being once removed from family where one can stamp their feet and empty their angst while filling their stomachs.  I’d like to say I’ve perfected that particular method of being available.

Previously published in 2013:


She loves her Chinese food, me not so much.  She has a million quips and quotes that somehow grew us up and we remember to this day.  She is eighty three and like most people her age she concentrates on herself, some amazing survival instinct of the aged. She truly made a silk purse from a sow’s ear, she scrimped and saved and has a wonderful nest egg, me not so much but she is generous.

In the eight years since my Father passed we have become…something.  Something more than we were and less than we will ever be.  I have developed a certain respect for her charm, her ability to bring people to her and to make them feel…something.  Loved, important, heard, special.  She has a long line of people who will always remember how she made them feel.  Including me.

But she and I couldn’t be more different in many ways.  I am hopeful that I’ve been able to cultivate that ability of hers to bring people to me.  Maya Angelou said today that her second greatest blessing has been her ability to turn people into children of hers.  I’ve had a string of people that I believe turned into children of mine but have now moved on into wonderful and satisfying lives through new jobs, new relationships or reestablished relationships with their own mothers, and new…something.

You never really know the effect you’ve had on people, there are no Mother’s Day calls when people have taken your love and lessons and moved on to send those lessons into their own worlds.  You can be grateful for the love and lessons you’ve received from a Mother you’re only now getting to know, love and respect.   I am grateful for both the sending and the receiving.


Happy Mother’s Day to all.

What You Don’t See


When someone is kind enough to stop you before you head out to shoot.

They mention the skies and how they might affect your images.

They mention there might be a need to make adjustments.

And I hear them.

And I thank them.

And off I go.

Somehow I get caught up in the enormity of Storm King, which really can’t be described, and I begin thinking about scale.  And composition. And conveying interest. Then somehow every time I view the play back I’m pleased.  I looked at what I captured but I never really looked at what was missing.

Even after I was “cautioned” in the gentlest way.

By someone who knows.

The sky was blown out of nearly every image and I never even noticed.  Not until I sat with my images and prepared to edit. Which got me thinking, was this the only place I was missing what I couldn’t see? How often have I been concerned with the scale, or composition or interest of situations or things but not the light?

Hindsight and the benefit of editing don’t always make themselves available. My post-production mentality might not always work to repair what reveals itself in hindsight.  However, there are times when what you don’t see initially provides a happy surprise.  Some of it will require much editing and afterthought, while some of what you don’t see simply turns out to be a blessing.

Learning to look beyond the scale, composition and interest for the light may be the bigger blessing. This was indeed about light, too much light and not paying attention to it.   They say that living in the light equals enlightenment.

What does not seeing it at all mean? Only that there is more awareness required and a balance of the seen and unseen. After all the light is always changing why shouldn’t I.

To see more of this photo walk click here!



I had the pleasure of participating in another Liberated Lines this week.  emerge was hosted by robin e. sandomirsky and Alisha Sommer through Instagram and a private Facebook page.  They bring a synchronicity of purpose, beautiful and thought provoking questions and a safe place.

They make use of one of my favorite things, food for thought. While their gentle hand was guiding us along I realized I was decades beyond this group of soulful women.  Decades in the literal sense.  I realized that I had indeed emerged without realizing at what moment that might have occurred but it was long ago.

While I enjoyed the week immensely I was mindful and heart struck at the reminders from another decade being searched and soothed by the others.  Decades I had long ago resolved and, yes emerged from, not unscathed but certainly the wiser. Their context was no longer my context.  Where we converged was at the corner of I-know-like-I-know and I-don’t-know-what-I-don’t-know.

I was grateful to get to know these women and thankful they were strong enough and open enough to find themselves immersed and on the verge of emerged, at whatever time that might happen for them.

I embrace a beginners mind and my curiosity, also known as slinky syndrome, is never satisfied so I also found myself in a photography class……shooting in manual. And again, I was reminded that I love photography but probably not in the way one would expect. Most of what I enjoy is the anonymity of being behind the camera and lurking around.  Finding those out of the way spots and moments that the rest of the crowd might miss.

I’m seeing more of myself emerge than learning the fundamentals of photography this incredibly good instructor, Greg Georgi is teaching.  His approach is very laid back and informative and he’s all about shooting. Amen to that but…

Here’s’ what I’ve learned:

  • I have a post-production mentality.  I’m usually going face first into things and I’ll fix it later.
  • I tend to look for the story not the F-stop so adjustments allude me at times.
  • My eyesight is not conducive to manual focus.
  • Trying to see the playback in the glare of the day aggravates the hell out of me which makes adjustments all the more elusive.

So I’m an accidental photographer, shoot enough and you’re bound to hit something. I truly want to learn to coordinate the triangle and I’ll try to interrupt myself to make adjustments but as long as my photos make me happy and no one’s depending on them I’ll be fine.  There’s bound to be a story in there.  Perfection really isn’t my thing, too boring.

So on a creativity scale of one to ten this week was a fifteen. I’m grateful to those exceptional people who share their knowledge and revel in the act of teaching and the care and feeding of hungry minds and souls and look forward to being with them again some time.

Have a good week, look for the ordinary moments they are truly what legacy is made of…

An Introvert in Vegas – Part Two

When we escape, we shed our introvert persona in the most subtle ways.  We know we’re escaping to something we totally geek out about so we’re in our element.  We have no problem doing things alone, in fact some times we prefer that so we don’t have to engage in all that small talk.  Give us a damn good conversation that goes beyond the weather and the latest jargon and we are in…

So off I go to geek out at the Neon Boneyard.  As I already said what Vegas lacks in sophistication and culture it surely makes up for in glitz and excess but it does have history.  There’s no denying that and I’m a history geek so the Neon Boneyard fit me to a tee.

It’s easy to get one of the ubiquitous cabs and it turns out it’s my first cabby’s first day.  I look at the bellman…really?  He confirmed, it’s the kid’s first day.  What a joyful twenty minute ride.  A young man with an accent I couldn’t place.  He misses his family but didn’t share where they were.  Please forgive me but I must use the GPS… he was incredibly cautious and sloooowwww. We chatted about Vegas, how it’s no place to be in the summer. And he hopes to be in school by then. But so what, we made it by the time my tour started.  My guess would be confirmed later that my fare was a bit more than it probably should have been but we enjoyed each other’s company.  Hopefully his confidence will grow and his self conscientiousness will subside. And a new life is in store for him.

From their website: In 2012 the Neon Museum Boneyard opened at 770 Las Vegas Boulevard North.  The nearly two-acre campus includes an outdoor exhibition space, known as the Boneyard, which features more than 200 signs, seven of which are restored, a visitors’ center housed inside the former La Concha Motel lobby and the Neon Boneyard North Gallery which houses additional rescued signs and is used for weddings, special events, photo shoots and educational programs.

So basically we toured a lot full of broken down, pieces and shards and rust and chipped paint.  I loved it.  Our group was small, maybe 8-10 people and our guide was cool and knowledgeable.  As I’m prone to do I hung behind and poked and snapped away.

From the website: The Museum includes nine restored signs which can be viewed as public art and visited on a self-guided tour twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. The gallery includes the Lucky Cuss Motel, the Bow & Arrow Motel, The Silver Slipper, Society Cleaners, Binion’s Horseshoe, the Normandie Motel, the Hacienda horse and rider, the Landmark and 5th Street Liquors.

Some of the more prized refurbishments which may be retrofitted with led lights for the night tour.  If you’re going to go, book your night tour as early in your visit as you can, it sells out quickly.

From their website: Most of our signs are exhibited in the Boneyard where they serve as inspiration to fascinated artists, students, historians and designers.  It is home to some of the most treasured and world-famous signs of Las Vegas – Caesars Palace, Binion’s Horseshoe, the Golden Nugget and the Stardust.

The two-acre Musuem campus includes the adjacent Neon Boneyard Park, the Boneyard itself, which houses more than 200 historic signs, and the Neon Boneyard North Gallery which contains approximately 60 additional signs including signs from the Palms Casino Resort, New-New York, Lady Luck and O’Shea’s.

Each sign in the collection has a unique story about who created it, what inspired it, where and when it was made, and how it fits into the development of Las Vegas and the city’s rich history.  Changes and trends in design and technology are also illustrated in the pieces that range from the 1930s to the present day.

As part of our guided tours of the Neon Boneyard, the signs can be viewed at ground level and up close. Each has been donated or loaned by individuals, businesses or sign companies.

A popular destination not only for events and weddings, but also photographers, film and production crews from around the world, the North Gallery enables the museum to keep up with growing demand and international attention the signs bring.  It provides a picturesque backdrop not only for weddings and special events, but also commercial and commemorative photo shoots as well as educational programs.  At this time the North Gallery is not available for guided tours.

There are people running this museum with the same dedication you’d expect from any non-profit trying to preserve history.  It is worth your while to visit for the history but their enthusiasm is contagious. And the hour tour won’t seem long enough.  But that’s ok you can stay as long as you like and then chat with them while they call you a cab.

What begins with a cab ride naturally had to end with a cab ride.  This time, Manuel, a well seasoned cabby since 1982, first in California and now in Vegas, knew every shortcut and back road to land me at the front door of the Aria in at least 5 minutes less during rush hour. He knew a great deal about Fremont Street and “what goes on there”… and managed to give me a good education and highlight some sites along the way back.  And yes it was cheaper, but I can assure you my tip was the same…


An Introvert in Vegas – Part One

Most people don’t think of me as an introvert but I can assure you I am indeed of the introverted point of view.  It’s not always about being shy, it’s not about being sullen or lacking the ability to small talk, it’s about how and where you gather your strength and what depletes your strength.  Vegas, a convention in Vegas, definitely depletes your strength. Let’s be perfectly clear, Vegas is an introvert’s worst nightmare.

The flight out was relatively uneventful. I ran into some dealer colleagues at the airport who I enjoy very much.  These are some fine outstanding individuals and we passed the time with humor and coffee.  The flight was relatively smooth although some people thought there was a lot of turbulence.  Having taken the bus from Bergen County to the Port Authority in NYC I didn’t think it was all that bad.

Now that we’re in the age of mobile everything, check in was a breeze.  My room was lovely, not the highest floor, not the best view but comfortable and complete with a nice big soaking tub. And room darkening drapes.  And a goodnight button.  Can I get an alright…score one for the introvert.

Vegas is three hours behind New Jersey, remember all that pissing and moaning I did when I lost one hour…just saying, gaining three was going to take some doing also.  My regional colleagues were in practice conferences for upcoming corporate meetings so I was on my own until the regional get together later on.  I was on my own, that is, until I opened my laptop and there they were…the zillion emails that had gathered while I flew the friendly skies…she said tongue in cheek after hearing how United is carrying on.

As caught up as one can ever be on email off I go with a band of merry makers, undoubtedly they had a head start, to the regional dinner, if you can call it that. I’m always reminded of our former regional admin extraordinaire whenever these events take place.  They pale in comparison to what she could conjure up.  She had a knack for turning a limited budget into a 4 star affair complete with courses, desert, and unavoidable mingling.  This was not that…this was something else with chafing dishes.

Clearly everyone had a head start on me but I’m not one to try and catch up.  It must be Vegas when usually reserved people are letting go and instigating questions about God verses religion.  I might have written something about that recently never expecting it to become bar room banter.  We made it work, note to self, what happens in Vegas…

I was grateful to escape for a nice walk back to the hotel with a fellow clear thinker as it was already way passed my bedtime.  As I walked by the bar there were plenty of people imbibing among them one of my all-time favorite people.  Can I buy you a drink, sure.  We chatted for a few minutes and I took my wine to go.  Another score for the introvert.

5:30am I’m in search of the Starbucks. A resort and casino in the early morning is a completely different animal.  There’s still music, there are still flashing lights but no people, no winners. There are left overs, the desperate and dazed.  There are the “working girls” leaving rooms, walking more slowly, looking tired.  You can see why each was chosen the night before but the morning light doesn’t pay tribute.

When the convention started on this morning it was electric.  So many people, many of them looking a bit…morning after…many of them I hadn’t seen in years.  This was a wonderful huge ballroom filled with the excitement of our company and the people who believe in it and make it what it is.  This I can do, this I believe in, this is us.

Communal lunches with people I don’t normally get to socialize with and back to the jazz.  Then back to my email, who are these people emailing me while I’m in Vegas?Surprisingly, I was grateful for the familiarity over the course of these days.

Dinners with my car hag counterparts from other regions or other departments were delicious.  We are all cut from a similar cloth, something on the light side but fabulous, the wine, the camaraderie all perfect.  We lingered over dinner and chatted away then we were on our separate ways.  Not to the casino, I didn’t place one bet the entire time I was there, not to the bar but to the sanctity of our rooms. My books. My tub…the quiet.

I did manage to squeeze in a side trip which I’ve been wanting to do for some time.  What Vegas lacks in sophistication and culture it surely makes up for in glitz and excess but it does have history.  There’s no denying that and I’m a history geek.  The Neon Boneyard…more on that in a separate post but suffice to say it was a highlight of this trip.

The convention lasted for three days, me not so much.  By the last day I was done.  The constant down beat of the music reminiscent of jazzercise classes from decades ago up to the current techno banging of today.  I had walked thousands of steps, eaten more exquisite rich food than I had in, I don’t know maybe ever, glad handed and talked shop until I reached my limit.  And tonight was going to be the gala. Seriously, me, deaf-in-one-ear and a DJ turning God knows what…the thought of that made me look into flying out early.  No luck on that as the flights into EWR were already delayed due to weather.

So my last day went like this, an hours-long breakfast with a dear friend so we could finally catch up after too long and a tip from the concierge about an amazing hiding spot. Benjamin took pity on the woman standing across from him wanting to know is there anywhere, beside my room, where one could have their coffee in a quiet friendly place.  No music, no flashing lights or dinging, nothing.  Would soft background music be ok?  I think my exhale said it all.  Behind the Aria is a sister hotel called the Vdara. Go passed the Buddha, make a right at the modern sculputure that looks like an instillation of canoes, OK…

It doesn’t have a casino, or flashing lights, or dinging.  What it does have is a quiet lobby bar with no one in it and a Starbucks.  I was in heaven, no one knew me, no one cared that I simply had my coffee and journaled to my heart’s content.  Benjamin saved a life that day…just sayin he most definitely was an introvert’s hero.

Late that afternoon when many people had already left I was reading, ordering room service, packing and taking a long hot bath.  It was the end of a perfect day.  I was off for home the next day with a few little glitches but nothing to speak of knowing I’d be sleeping in my own bed with my dear Toti Nonna. Yes there was a welcome home happy dance.

Would I do this again, the short answer is no.  My guess is my job designation won’t make the invite list next year, it was probably a mistake this year to be perfectly honest but I’m glad I got to experience the convention once before I retire.  There is one less thing to be crossed off my “why-not” list and there were some amazing high points.

In the end Vegas is no place for introverts. Most definitely not this introvert.

For more pictures from the trip you can check out the Ordinary Legacy Instagram page. Yes the Toti Nonna happy dance is there too.