weekend highlights

Thursday, smooth arrival. Stop at massive Whole Foods lunch bar for cornucopia of healthy yet highly salted dishes. Inquiry after slipcovers at Macy's (they do not carry, and good thing because no longer needed). Crate and Barrel reminiscing; mostly sour. Shoe search, several loops at indoor/outdoor mall. Met a friendly, slightly distracted salesman named Don. Got double discounts for brand-new senior status and birthday month. The pair is cute with chic bows and tiny studs. Songs by women with big hearts who trickled into the pink room, growing from seven to eleven. "A Dream is a Wish the Heart Makes," though some dreams require modification along with hearts (aka breaking). Happy Birthday, two times through, some tears. End with Halloween round with witch's hatted Joan. Meaningful, coherent dream.

Friday, found coffee and The Hook. Gym visit; monkey machine after weights. No sightings. Home and rest. Running out of shoes to find ones that fit - back and forth, walking and jogging, dodging parents and undergrads. Free parking; a nice surprise. Onward to Micheal's, begin with a return. Three projects, at the end complete with Band-Aid detour. Natural foods: walnuts and cocoa energy chunks. Kroger milk and chicken dinner. Home again, nacho night and comforting. More pie.

Saturday, writer's workshop: new place, new people, NaNoWriMo (can you believe it). Soft lighting, a few pistachios. Dreams' beginning. Lunch in the space beyond "Adults Only Area": Mexican burrito - can I eat sour cream now? Circa circuit, nada. No Possessions Unrecycled. Recycling center, now closed on Mondays and Tuesdays. No goods at Goodwill. Home again: rest, chores, rest, walk. Up the hill - does it look different? Coming down, gaggles of booted adult-children. Home again; chicken potatoes kale salad. Pie-enhanced applesauce. Meaningful, coherent dream.

Sunday, sleep-in. Two loops - Old Farm Rd. Family on long walk. Home again - rearranging, like it better. Cozier, more coherent. Getting there. Leftovers lunch. Airport run, big hug. Phoned a friend; good advice. Smooth sailing a little at a time.

Jennifer Lee grows up

Jennifer Lee has always wanted to be famous. As a little girl, she craved the attention of her family, especially her daddy, and put on all sorts of shows – dancing, singing, and brief comedy acts – when she was small enough to be cute no matter what she did. As she grew older, she kept a dream in her heart that someday – any day now, really– she would be spotted by a scout and whisked off to Hollywood. She knew that once this happened, they (whoever “they” were, the people responsible for making other people famous) would straighten her slightly crooked teeth, and turn her hair from its mousy, stringy present state into a lush wavy gift to the world. She believed that famous people were just ordinary people that were discovered and then created, and she could think of no reason that this shouldn’t happen to her. (Wasn’t Tom Cruise awfully short with a big nose, anyway?).


For back-up, Jennifer Lee attended college and became a dental hygienist (no one, not even she, would ever connect her desire to help people have beautiful teeth with her own longing for a mouthful of straight and shiny). But, she didn’t worry about actually enjoying her chosen profession because she knew that one day, she’d be a movie actress. There were a few times in her early twenties when she felt the universe conspiring to help her dream come true. On these occasions, she tried as hard as she could to listen to the energy and be in the right place at the right time, so she could be “found”, like that Latina trophy wife from the TV show Modern Family. She worried about missing her chance at the fair that one day, wondering if the scout had passed on the other side of the Ferris Wheel from where she waited with her hair just styled and her make-up fancy. As she inched toward 30, a seed of doubt began to grow inside her, which she tried to ignore. However, it was hard not to notice that her Lucky and People and US Weekly magazines continued to be populated mainly with images of women 25 and under. Jennifer began to look at times supremely confident, and at other times simply uncertain.


For this young person, the Sweet Adelines competition has come at the time when she is beginning to consciously awaken to the reality of her life as an ordinary woman. This will turn out to be a wonderful thing, because she will eventually understand that there is no Prince Charming/Movie Star waiting for her in Hollywood, and she will let herself begin a relationship with a normal, kind, and utterly ordinary man who will love her, crooked teeth and all. But right now is not yet that time, and she is not quite ready to say goodbye to her dream. When she sings “A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes,” Jennifer Lee feels muddled. She is close to (but not quite) understanding that she is saying goodbye to one dream while opening herself up to another, more fulfilling and genuine possibility. While singing this song, she feels confused, earnest, wistful, and sad. She has nurtured the dream of being famous for so long, that she feels guilty for betraying it when she thinks of Jerry, the man who fixes her sink, and settling down with him in a nice ranch house. When she sings “Powder Your Face,” this feels like a last ditch attempt at her dream – during this song, she convinces herself that she will be famous after all. She is nothing if not stubborn, and until she has irrefutable evidence to the contrary, or an awfully good alternative (again, Jerry comes to mind), she can persist in thinking of herself as the next Big Thing, the next face to grace People magazine. As the song ends though, Jennifer remembers that she is turning 30 soon, and might want to start a family. Movie stars always end up divorced, dead, or in rehab, anyway. Which is to say, Jennifer Lee is finally growing up.

The above is a character description of the young woman I will "play" at the Sweet Adelines competition in Winston-Salem for my chorus. This young woman is not me, but she is my age, and so - along the lines of "there but for the grace of God go I" - she seems like she could be. Alter-egos are interesting; they are both more and less than the real person. Spiderman and Batman and even Superman were "all that" but they also couldn't do certain things, like have normal families or sleep schedules, for example. They were vulnerable, too - which many of today's superheroes are not, according to this recent study. It suggests that boys today are limited to one of two choices: hypermasculine and aggressive, or a slacker. Not too encouraging given that today's world, and today's woman, calls for so much.

My cousin's alterego is called Jeffy Pumpkeen, invented mainly for Facebooking his brothers, I believe. I like the idea of developing a persona who can do things that we are unable to do, things that would make us too vulnerable if we did them ourselves. This persona can think the scary and real thoughts that we need to process but can't, quite. This persona can have dreams that sound silly if spoken aloud to real people. And this persona can converse over the internet so the real Us can keep a safe distance from the social hubbub that is Facebook.

This all sounds lovely, as long as some day we are able to confront our demons and assimilate our alter-ego into our own identities. Otherwise - unless you happen to be called Bruce Wayne - I think there is another name for it: multiple personality disorder. Or just plain lonely.