Angels, Saxophones and Maroon Velvet

Today would have been my mother's seventy-seventh birthday.  I'm missing her this year -- not the actual mom, you understand -- but the mom of my memories. The mom who lives in that photo above. The happy, beguiling, carefree mom, before she was a mom. Before she met my dad. Before things all went kind of pear-shaped in her life.

Last Sunday, Mark took me to a restaurant I'd never been to -- Cafe Cordiale in Sherman Oaks -- for brunch.  (Quick aside - this may be new favorite restaurant ever!) The restaurant was decorated for their annual traditional Dickens Christmas Eve dinner -- all gold ribbon and maroon velvet and nutcrackers, co-owner Margaret explained.

It's all terribly British and Dickensian and Victorian, even amidst the very sleek modernity of the restaurant's decor. It reminded me of Mom and all she loved about Christmas.  My mother could be the wackiest, weirdest, most demanding and difficult person on the planet. But at Christmastime, she was pretty much a gem.  There was something about whipping out our pipecleaner angel orchestra ornaments (the ornaments she bought for my first Christmas) that always set her in a good mood, as she smoothed out the little gossamer wings and straightened the packing-box-bent pipecleaner arms. Most of them are missing their little instruments now, but when, in my tweens, I pointed this out to Mom, she simply insisted that they had abandoned the orchestra because they'd discovered their true calling -- singing in the choir.

What care we for paper angel instruments?

That's the part of my mother I miss. When she was completely on her game, whole and reasonably healthy, she could be all things funny, charming and beautiful.  I wonder sometimes if she could have maintained that energy, that spark, if things might have been different between us.  I like to think so.  I was speaking to a friend briefly about my troubled relationship with my mother, lamenting that, after my adolescence, it just never seemed to be workable. I hope that in the next lifetime we share, we can both be charming and effervescent, and perhaps actually like each other for a change.

Happy birthday, Mom. The angels are still singing away, accompanied by the one violinist and a lone saxophone player.

A Blessed, Sacred Winter Solstice 2010

It's the last winter solstice of the decade, and it's the night of a full moon. The clouds will most likely obscure the moon from sight for those of us in L.A., but she'll be there.

This is what the sunrise looked like this morning at Stonehenge on this wintery day:

Winter Solstice 2010 at Stonehenge, by Buzzstation.net

It's the night after a full moon eclipse, it's a full moon and it's Winter Solstice, so I think today would be a great day to get some pagan on.

Blessed Solstice, all.

Not For Nuthin' Do They Call It Social Networking!

There is much valid discussion these days about how the Internet has "connected" us without actually connecting us.  I have participated in the discussion, arguing on both sides. On the one hand, e-mail, texting, social networking and Internet dating sites have resulted in people becoming more involved with their computers and phones, and less with each other in nose-to-nose interaction.

On the other hand, in a large city like L.A., it's difficult to meet people, because folks are on their beaten paths, moving from Point A to Point B, and don't stop to say "hi" to the strangers they pass along the way. It's that way, I think, in most large cities. I've spent time in New York and Chicago, too, both of which have much larger pedestrian populations than L.A., and it's often the same in those cities. Perhaps even worse, instead of the hull of a car surrounding them, New Yorkers and Chicagoans must construct a bit of an invisible, impermeable force-field to safeguard against the invasion of so many egos, so many energies packed so closely together. Sometimes, it can be difficult to let those walls down, even in the company of companions and friends. The computer and the Blackberry offer a safe way to feel connected without going out on a limb.

But going out on a limb is what's required of any real-life relationship. Networking -- any networking, cyber or otherwise -- is only for the purpose of making the initial connection. After that, you'll either let the connection die, or you'll take it "nose-to-nose".  I've met some fabulous people online -- people who have become real friends in the end. From my blogging buddy Alisa, to my cowboy hero, Jim, to the lovely man I'm seeing now, Mark... they all started as online connections. At some point, though, one or both of us decided we'd tear down the electronic wall and meet face to face, where you can look in someone's eyes and see them smile and take all the risks and reap all the benefits of real, live human contact.

The other benefits of social networking is reconnecting with folks who've slipped away from you. I've mentioned one of them on this blog before -- Christopher Lister, my half-brother.  (That's just in case he googles himself -- which -- yes, I'll say it -- he has been known to do!!) I've lost and found Christopher a couple of times on the internet. If it were up to me and Christopher on our own, we'd have fallen away from one another and never connected again. Fortunately, thanks to the internet, and Chris' wife, Traci, we might actually get to spend time together over the holidays. Social networking made that possible, so it's not to be taken lightly.

Look, I love my Droid.  I'm never giving it up (unless it's to get a better Droid). I want a laptop and a tablet and a Kindle with wireless broadband. I want the newest, biggest, fastest, baddest, broadest, widest bandwidth I can get. But I also want a hug every now and then, and I'm so grateful and happy that the people that I connect with are also so inclined.

It's comin' on Christmas, people.  Find someone you know and send 'em some love.