The Impoverished Gentlewoman

A '60s woman lost in the woods.

Saturday, July 15, 2017

Fifty years?    Noooooooooooo!

This should have registered earlier but..I do not know, maybe dying brain cells.  No, its summer and July and it only took one reference to summer of love to bring in sharper focus.  Fifty years ago was 1967 and that was a special yearthat  changed the world for me and mine.
It was so simple really.
I was going to Haight-Ashbury but lacked the funds so stayed with a friends family in Miami (Perrine to be exact). I worked at a steakhouse and got involved with a serviceman (Air Force).  Unfortunately the family was insane(creepy older brother roaming the halls at night) and ended badly with Jim(this is why I hate House of the rising sun ).  I gave up my flowers in my hair city and decided on Hyannis because I love the Kennedys.
I took a train and ended up in Providence RI(1st one in my family to set foot in New England) to await my missing luggage. Someone suggested(some random sadist) Provincetown so in a few days I took a bus to said location.  Other stories on Provincetown so I will not bore my reader.
The point is- I ended up going to Ptown just about every summer and ended up moving to Boston.  So that summer of 1967 lead to my establishing roots in this crazy place for me and my kids..and their kids and so on.
All in all, a good decision I think.  But 50 years?!!!  No way.😛😕

Saturday, May 02, 2015

This is a really stupid story. Or memory.One of the "bubble gum" songs on my ipod is "Here comes my baby" by the Tremaloes. This was one of the cutesy songs that you would listen to BY YOURSELF. I mean, you try to be cool ,right? "You don't own me" and "Sugar Shack" are a few others. Anyway, I was tooling down W. Pensacola Ave. In Tallahassee with crazy Shar in my beloved Dodge Dart. "Here comes my baby" comes on my radio. I decided"what the hell. I want to hear this". Click. What? Shar turned it off. "What the ___?" Click, I turn it back on. ":Vicki! I hate that song. It reminds me of my old boyfriend. Besides, you don't even like Ricky Nelson!". Ricky Nelson? What am I, a bobbysoxer? "Thats not Ricky Nelson, Are you crazy __ ___" "Vicki, stop cursing. Do you always have to curse?" "If its not Ricky Nelson, who is it?" "Um..I don't remember but its NOT Ricky Nelson" "Yes, it is" :No its not ___ __ _-" A silly slap fight ensues while I'm driving (do not do this at home). I drive straight into a hedge on the sidewalk. Shar sneers at me,gets out the car and walks home. I manage to get home myself. We didn't speak for a week. I told you this was a stupid story.

Thursday, March 19, 2015

All of the hullabaloo (spel?) about the 50th anniversary of "The Sound of Music" (50? Gag) can't help but bring back memories of when I saw that film. I was living at Marymount College,a Catholic womens college in Boca Raton. Yes. I did. I attended with my rooommate Carol and two nuns(one the Mother Superior). I'm not sure how this happened. But Carol was their pet and I was her roommate and-oh, okay. Plus, it was their treat. Needless to say, the whole theater audience was very well behaved and these nuns were in traditional garb, wimple and all. After the movie, a second feature started. A terrible spy movie with lots of steamy sex scenes. I looked aside at them and they sat ramrod straight, hands folded in their laps. When we were leaving, I asked them,"why didn't you insist we leave?" and one answered ,"We thought you wanted to stay, dear". Nuns.

Tuesday, January 01, 2013

Another time, another place.

Midnight.London.1979. I was living in a B&B in Chelsea. A few minutes before it would become a new year, I raced up the stairs,dodging drunken Aussies along the way. I entered the room I shared with 4 or 5 others. Thankfully it was empty. I wanted to have a special moment of reflection. I was pregnant and wanted to make a wish for my child to be. I gazed out the window and suddenly I didn't know what to say out loud or to myself. Finally I just said "I wish only good things". Well, that was brilliant, I thought. But at least it was in the moment. Here I am again. Its midnight, 2013 and this year will bring my first grand-child. I feel just as inarticulate as I did then , all those years ago. But it still seems the right thing to say. It encompasses everything...."only good things".

Friday, December 23, 2011

The twelve days of Christmas

13 December

My Dearest H,
C and I received your partridge in a pear tree today. What a lovely surprise! When you said you wanted to improve our relationship for the sake of the children, I was wary. What a fool I was! You're a wonderful woman. And the private messenger-what a unique touch! Have a happy Christmas, my dear.
All my Love,

14 December

Dear H,
The turtle doves are precious! Claire adores them. How can we thank you?

17 December

Dear H,
Sorry I didn't email sooner. So busy opening up and enjoying your gifts. French hens,calling birds,golden rings! C actually does a dance every time a package is delivered. Thank you, lovely one.
Best Wishes,

19 December

Weren't we the startled pair when the geese and swans arrived! Its causing a bit of consternation, however. Did you realise how difficult it is to clean up after geese? And we had to give up our bathtub to the swans. Do you know where we can donate them? After the holidays, of course :-). We will try to keep up our Christmas spirit as you have. Please forget us for now. You've done more than enough! Concentrate on your holiday. Please.
Your Ex-Husband,

21 December

Dear Bitch,
We're overrun with all of these maids a milking a nd ladies dancing! Are you joking? Both C and I are trying to clear up things at work so we can go to the continent for the New Year. How can we leave all of this mess?
Have pity,

22 December

H you Salacious Slag,
Well, we had to cancel our travel plans. Thanks, H! Are you happy now? These lords a leaping are the last straw! They lock themselves into the bedrooms with the maids and ladies. I can't go further, its too disgusting. Our cleaning lady quit(and as I write this, is bringing up charges!). We can't keep up with groceries! We put a lock on the refrigerator but they order pizza. The lords are demanding fresh venison. This has to stop! C cries all the time. I'm warning you!
I hate you,

24 December

You fiendish Harpie from hell,
Pipers piping and drummers drumming? Are you a complete sadist? We can't sleep with the constant din. We've run out of food. We can't bear any more. STOP IT! I hate you, C hates you. I'm going to get you, H. Just you wait and see.
Your Sworn enemy,

26 December

Dear Ms. S,
I am writing this on behalf of my clients, S C and C E. This is to inform you that they both have been committed to Happydale Psychiatric Hospital. One can only hope they will make a full recovery but their doctors fear it is hopeless. You are apparently to blame for this. I am in possession of all the police reports. Our legal team is working assiduously on their behalf in an effort to bring charges against you. You must take responsibility for your actions. You may not contact either party in any way. I will be in contact with your solicitor. You have been warned, Madam.

Roland Mayhew
Mayhew,Grumble,Strathmore and Mayhew

Wednesday, December 08, 2010

I'm only sleeping.....

I try not to be predictable but on anniversaries its inescapable. Thirty years ago today, John Lennon was murdered. Its one of those "Where were you?" moments.
The weather was very similar to the weather today-bitterly cold and windy. My friend Sylvia was visiting from England. Time marches on and we are no longer friends but Sylvia holds a special place in the time line of my life. She not only took me to a party where I met my friend Brenda but also introduced me to my children's father.
My daughter Georgy was an adorable but bossy toddler who loved to stomach-butt everything and everyone. She even charmed Sylvia.
She wanted to see some touristy sights so we had gone to Plymouth and this particular morning-to Rockport. We came back on a train and sitting across from us was a man holding a newspaper. The front page read "LENNON SHOT". I let out a squeal. The man lowered his paper, saw my scrunched up,tearful face and handed it over. The only information I could glean was that he had been shot by a demented fan. By the time we got back, we had learned he had died.
There were a couple of things going on in the common so we went. We ended up in a circle of people, just talking and listening to others singing some of his songs. When Sylvia got back to the UK, she said people there didn't react half as strongly as they did here.
Urban legends? There might be a few. It is true that even though he was DOA, they tried surgery and blood transfusions. Reporters wept openly. The only one I'm not sure of is that we'd heard that the NYPD, afraid the ambulance would take too long,lifted John above their heads and put him a police car. But I could believe it. I've always loved the Beatles and do you know what? I intend to get all of their music on itunes and let it continue to be the background music of my life.

Saturday, September 11, 2010


My Uncle Jack was only thirteen when I was born. He was always "Jackie" to me and my cousins. Sometime between "Jackie" and when he became "Jack",a lot of bonds were broken and there will be no condolence card. So there are only better memories in the past. No regrets because these relationships were not in my control.
Whenever my parents had financial problems (which was often) I was sent to live with my grandmother. I have fond memories of Princeton and loved Voncourt Apartments where she and Jackie lived. One of my earliest memories was of me sitting on Jackie's lap (was I two? three?) when he was trying to eat breakfast before school.
"Mother,(she was always mother to her children which was pretty unusual in that area)make her get down" he would complain. "Oh let her stay" she would say and smile at me. I would be beaming because I had gotten my way.

I remember that very clearly. I know why. I was happy. Those are the only memories I care to keep.
No hard feelings. I'll cherish who I have left now that I am free to love them.
One thing stands out. Now all of Mamo's children are gone.