SO BEGINS ANOTHER SPRING
Buy Nothing Groups, The Sound of Breaking Glass, R.I.P., Iris Apfel, Trail Cam Delights
Hiya Friends,
Welcome to Spring Forward when I keep looking at the clock and wondering what I’ve been doing all day. Don’t get me wrong. I heart Spring. I’ve been enjoying the seasonal shift here in LA ever since the daffodils poked out of the ground in February, and the rain regenerated our dead lawn. That once barren wasteland of dirt and weeds is now a verdant coverlet of joy for every dog that stops by to take a sniff or a pee. Some day we will swap in native plants, but this grass is stubbornly refusing to go gently into that good night. Well, I say, kudos to you, lawn! Your stay of execution has been temporarily extended. Get on with your bad self.
In other news, I joined a friend for a matinee showing of the movie, Bob Marley: One Love at the AMC multiplex in Glendale. Upon arrival, I scanned the deserted lobby for the requisite disaffected teenager selling movie tickets. Instead, I encountered a row of ticketing kiosks lined up like sentries. I suppose this was bound to happen. Everything’s self-service these days, from the gas pump to the grocery store checkout stand, well, except in The Netherlands. Alas, my heart sank a bit, thinking about all the ways that we, as a society, are discouraged from connecting with strangers.
Once I’d completed my kiosk transaction, I turned and spotted a vision-impaired young man standing nearby, holding a red-tipped walking stick. I asked if he needed help purchasing his ticket and he said, “I would. Thank you.”1
Yes, in an unexpected twist of fate, the kiosk actually forced me to talk to a stranger. The irony is not lost on me.
This man had come to check out a movie starring Hilary (with one L!) Swank called Ordinary Angels—a faith-based film/true story of a Kentucky hairdresser who made it her mission to help a little girl get airlifted for organ transplant surgery during an epic snowstorm in 1994. It’s a story about strangers helping strangers! Go figure.
“We need this type of movie right now,” Swank told Forbes, adding that she also had a personal reason for joining the cast.
“My dad had just passed and he was a lung transplant recipient. He’s one of my favorite people and I felt like this was just like a gift from him,” she shared.
“What movie are you seeing?” the man asked me.
“The Bob Marley movie,” I said.
“Oh, it’s great,” he said.
Cleary, he was a frequent movie goer.
To secure his ticket, I entered his email address on the screen, then immediately started to panic that I’d have to ask for his credit card to complete the transaction. How could he possibly trust me? Obviously, I wasn’t going to steal a blind man’s credit card info, but he didn’t know that. Just as I was about to swear up and down that I had no criminal record, I noticed that his amount due was $0.
“Hey! Your ticket is free!” I exclaimed with relief and handed him the print out.
“Yay,” he said not very enthusiastically. I suspect he knew that would be the outcome.
I offered to help him find his seats, but he said he’d be fine. As he walked off, my friend theorized that this man might’ve had partial vision and that’s how he watches the movies.
“Or he listens,” I said.
Later, when our movie began, I closed my eyes and listened briefly, trying to imagine what it might be like for that visually-impaired young man to experience Bob Marley: One Love. The Jamaican accents were strong in the film, and since I’m over 50, and only watch TV with the subtitles on, there were exchanges of dialogue that I didn’t quite catch. But that didn’t matter. Just hearing Bob Marley in surround sound lifted my spirits. The songs are so dang catchy and timeless that I’m still wandering around weeks later singing, “Don’t worry about a thing,” much to Jared’s chagrin.
As far as biopics go, this one barely qualifies. It’s more of a slice-of-life film that takes place from 1976 to 1978 when Jamaica experienced violent upheaval due to warring political factions. The story follows Bob Marley as he plans to headline a concert for peace, and ends up having to flee Jamaica after an attempt on his life. Critics panned this film, but audiences loved it. Bob’s son Ziggy wasn’t surprised by the reactions—“Yeah, this is actually perfect for something representing Bob. That the critics don't get it, but the people get it.” I enjoyed the performances of the lead actors, Kingsley Easy-On-The-Eyes-Ben-Adir as Bob Marley and Lashana Lynch as Rita Marley, plus the actor who plays my favorite British TV vicar, James Norton has a small part. I’m sure if you like Bob Marley, you’ll enjoy the film. Maybe try closing your eyes for a bit to soak in the songs and sounds of Jamaica. I think we could all benefit from listening more and talking less these days.
SPRING CLEANING HACK
Folks, I have a lot of tchotchkes. So much so that I’m in danger of becoming Greg in the New Yorker cartoon above. Decluttering has never been my strong suit. I wrote about this struggle in a previous post last year called What’s Your Clutter Block? Lately though, I’ve managed to hand off some of my junk . . . er . . . possessions to clamoring neighbors via a group on Facebook called “Buy Nothing Silver Lake.”
The Buy Nothing Project has been around for a while, but I wasn’t in-the-know until a friend clued me in. Here’s how it works: If you have a Facebook account, search the words “Buy Nothing” + your neighborhood to find your local group. If you live in San Francisco, you could search “Buy Nothing SF” or you could go as granular as “Buy Nothing Noe Valley.” You must apply for membership with your local address and agree to the rules to prove you’re not some jerk running a crypto scam. If you don’t have a Facebook account, you can download the app and connect with neighbors that way too. Members can post stuff to give away, list an item they’d like to receive, or express interest in a neighbor’s castoffs.
Most people leave their giveaways on the front porch for neighbors to grab. I often run out and hand off the bag of stuff. It’s up to you whether you want to interact with your neighbors or not. Since I joined in October, I’ve unloaded items such as fancy dog food that finicky Noodle wouldn’t eat, a Trina Turk dress I’d never worn, an opened package of mushroom coffee I didn’t care for, a summer sausage left over from a holiday gift basket, baking accessories and, the pièce de résistance—a bottle of expired coconut water. That one still makes me laugh.
This feel-good community effort to reduce waste and spend less money has been a real game changer for me. When I needed a small paintbrush, rather than race out and buy one, I put up a post to see if anyone had an extra. Sure enough, a neighbor gave me two brand new brushes she no longer needed.
If any of you are feeling the urge to purge this Spring, I highly recommend checking out your local Buy Nothing groups. If you do give it a whirl, let me know how it goes.
OH ALL AROUND, THE SOUND OF BREAKING GLASS
Calling all creative types: Blown Away—the competitive glass blowing competition on Netflix—is back for its 4th Season and I’ve already burned (haha) through every episode. As far as I can tell, there’s no other creative pursuit as dangerous, harrowing, physically exhausting, and suspenseful as glass blowing. These artists are legit endurance athletes, turning sand and hot blobs into beautiful glass sculptures by blowing on tubes, stuffing those tubes in flaming ovens, stretching and rubbing their hands against fire and molten glass. When an artist finally manages to mold a piece into a work of art, they have to tap it ever so gently to release it from the pole, or punty as they call it. At least 50% of the time, that piece, that they just spent hours creating, crashes to the floor and shatters. It’s a great metaphor for life and a reminder to enjoy the process and never get too attached to the outcome.
R.I.P., IRIS APFEL
Iris Apfel—my shero and self-proclaimed “Geriatric Starlet,”—died on March 1st at 102-years-old. Several friends sent me her obit that day with the message, “Thought of you.” ❤️
I sat in a room with her once, following a screening of Albert Maysles’ excellent documentary, IRIS. Outfitted in a pewter coat dress and gargantuan beads with some kind of sculptural silver plate dangling below, she graciously answered questions from the audience. I didn’t dare raise my hand—too worried about coming across as a fawning dope. Even after the Q&A, when fans rushed the stage to meet her, I slipped out of the auditorium, thinking, she probably just wants to get out of here. In retrospect, it’s more likely that Iris wanted to meet her admirers or she wouldn’t have hung around.
The kid/teen version of me would’ve approached Iris, no problem. Hell, at age 16, I rolled right up to David Bowie and asked for his autograph. But in adulthood, I’ve lost the nerve to meet my idols. I never want to disturb them or invade their privacy, which is silly when that person has shown up at an event to meet fans. I stood in line to meet Billy Bragg at a record store in SF in the 90s. Right before I made it to his table, I panicked and skulked out of line. I just didn’t know what to say to him besides, “I love your music” and that seemed lame since that’s probably what everyone says to him. Recently, however, I volunteered to serve meals to the unhoused and I spotted the actor/comedian, David Koechner chopping Brussels Sprouts in the kitchen. A fellow volunteer whispered to me that The Office was her favorite show and she wanted to tell him. I heard her say to him, “You probably hate this, but . . .” And he said, “People always say ‘You probably hate this . . .’ but it would be much worse if nobody recognized me. This is what I do for a living!” So from now on, I’m going to try to be a little braver, like Iris.
Iris Apfel never shied away from her desires and lived life on her own terms. Such was the case when she went in search of a pair of jeans to wear in the 1940s, a decade before Marlon Brando or Marilyn Monroe sparked the trend.
In the 40s I was one of the first women to wear jeans. My outfit was a gingham turban, crisp shirt and blue jeans. I had this idea in my head and I HAD to get a pair of jeans. I tried the Army and Navy store and they stated, “ don’t you know that young ladies don’t wear jeans”. Eventually after persistence I managed to get a pair of boys jeans to wear.
“When you don’t dress like everybody else, you don’t have to think like everybody else,” Ms. Apfel told Ruth La Ferla of The New York Times.
I loved her chutzpah and style, and that she gave zero effs about societal norms. When asked why she never had kids, she said, “having children is like protocol. You’re expected to. And I don’t like to be pigeonholed.” Huzzah!
I will miss her bold and colorful presence, her independent and rebellious spirit, and the fact that she always reminded us to celebrate life. R.I.P., Iris. You were and will always be an inspiration!
TRAIL CAM HIGHLIGHTS
In my last issue, I mentioned that I had installed a trail cam in our yard. At the time of publication, I had yet to capture any cute critters so I moved the camera to another spot and JACKPOT. Because the camera isn’t wifi-enabled, each morning I load the chip into a reader on my computer never knowing what surprises await. Suffice it to say, this camera has been an endless source of entertainment and glee. Below are a few highlights to brighten your day.
Okay, friends! That’s a wrap. If you enjoyed any of these updates, hit the ❤️ button or leave a comment below. I always love hearing from you. xo H2
I wanted to lodge a complaint that the kiosks were not accessible for all patrons, but my friend assured me that there was usually someone stationed behind the kiosks and they must’ve gone on a break. That person did eventually show up, too little too late.
Iris! I missed this and thankful I can search out dedicated tributes as her style was above enormity. Big fan! I loved Army Navy stores growing up. The trail cam...great fun waking to the surprises. Nice collection!
"I stood in line to meet Billy Bragg at a record store in SF in the 90s. Right before I made it to his table, I panicked and skulked out of line. I just didn’t know what to say to him besides, “I love your music” and that seemed lame since that’s probably what everyone says to him."
My friend, you can never, ever go wrong with "Thank you." It's genuine, it says everything you need to say, and it's always appreciated. Especially if you're afraid you'll witter on like a broken robot, just go with "thank you" and it'll be fine.
I'm gonna have to look into the Buy Nothing app (I didn't realize there was one!) and see what I can offload that way. I need a good incentive, and I hate sending stuff to the landfill!