Miley Cyrus

If you say or do something inappropriate, insensitive, rude or just plain stupid, someone MAY tweet it, post it on Facebook, and make things look far, far worse than they were.

Case in point: this article on the Huffington Post:

Mark Frauenfelder, Dad And Boing Boing Founder: ‘TSA Officer Humiliated My Daughter’ (PHOTO) [UPDATE]

In case you don’t feel like reading this (brief) post, the synopsis is this: a 15 year old girl was told by a TSA agent,

“You’re only 15! Cover yourself up!”

In the accompanying photo of what the girl was wearing she has on a heavy flannel shirt, exactly the type of thing the TSA would require you to remove before walking through the scanner. Underneath is what appears to be a fairly thin and possibly sheer white t-shirt, a little bit of her tummy showing. On the bottom, very skinny, low cut jeans or leggings. You may argue, well, she was wearing the flannel shirt, so what’s wrong with that? But the TSA agent said this to her when he checked her i.d., so chances are she wasn’t wearing the flannel shirt – because with it on, you can’t see much of anything, can you.

Justin Bieber

I don’t think the TSA agent should have told her to cover herself up. I don’t believe it’s anyone’s responsibility to tell another person’s child what to wear, no matter how low their pants are hanging off their butts (boys) or how short their shorts are (girls).

However, I also don’t believe that this TSA agent should have been called out on social media for saying what, let’s face it, a lot of people around him may have been thinking – this girl is dressed to get attention. And you know what, there’s nothing wrong with that. Dress as sexy as you want.

But.

Right or wrong, if a girl is dressed in a way that shows off her body, MEN ARE GOING TO LOOK AT HER. You can talk about equality, body image, “slut-shaming,” rape culture, and any other women’s-right-to-wear-whatever-she-wants opinion you may have, but that won’t change this fact:

Boys look at girls. Or, if you prefer, men look at women.

They always have and they always will.

And you can argue that she’s “only 15.” That’s true. But most 15 year old girls are pretty culturally savvy, especially in Los Angeles, where this took place. They know what’s what when it comes to looking hot. As they should. That’s part of what being a teenager is about – discovering your adult self that’s waiting out there.

I understand the father’s fury at the TSA agent for the comment he made, but I bet, somewhere in the back of his mind, he may have been worried that the guy was a teensy bit right, and that may have fueled his anger. No father wants to think about men ogling his daughter, and the implication of the agent’s comment was just that – if you wear this, you will be looked at. Maybe the agent was genuinely trying to help. I don’t know.

And Dad? Do you really think bringing this attention to your daughter is going to help her to move past it in any way? Sharing the photo of her, smiling, on the national media? What does that do to help anyone in this situation? Couldn’t it just have been handled between you, your daughter and the TSA? Or could it be that it was great publicity for the website you founded, Boing Boing?

Be careful, people. You may say something inadvertently insulting, inappropriate or rude, and the next day, you might be on the cover of the New York Times.

Or your daughter might be.

What do you think? Was the TSA agent out of line? Did the father go to far by taking this to the media?

The post Was a TSA Agent Slut-Shaming This 15 Year Old Girl? appeared first on Empty House, Full Mind.

I’m not an observant Jew in any sense. My children were Bar and Bat Mitvahed, and my husband and I had a rabbi, Steven Carr Reuben, marry us at our interfaith ceremony (though Jewish, my husband was raised Catholic, but that’s another story). Finding a rabbi to do so at the time wasn’t as easy as it is now, 24 years later. But as far as my observation of the laws of Kashrut, or keeping the sabbath holy, that doesn’t happen in my home. And yet…when the participants in the documentary continually pointed out the similarity – to the point of plagiarism, in some cases – of the songs of the mid-twentieth century Broadway stage and the prayers said in synagogue, tears came to my eyes. For as little time as I’ve spent in temple, the chants and tunes of the prayers are deeply ingrained in me, nearly as much as the scores to countless musicals.

For example, the opening to the Porgy and Bess song It Ain’t Necessarily So has the same exact chords and notes as the blessing over the Torah. Is it a coincidence that George Gershwin’s father was a cantor? Probably not.

(starts at 1:16)

Revisiting the musicals and listening to the genius composers like Stephen Schwartz, Steven Sondheim and more discussing the evolution of their artform made me wonder…where are the new great musicals? While visiting New York City this past April, there wasn’t one show that I was dying to see – not.one.show. This had never happened to me before. They were mostly either revivals, or children’s shows, or, even better, revivials of children’s shows. I don’t need to see Annie, or The Lion King, or even Cinderella (which I loved when I was a little girl) ever again. Where is the new A Chorus Line, or Into the Woods? Why not something fabulous and emotional like Fiddler on the Roof? Or something thought-provoking and current like Rent?  Where is the score that you love so much you play it over and over? The last time that happened to me it was Wicked, and that was in 2003.

Here is a list of the most popular shows on Broadway today  (courtesy Broadway.com):

I realize that the producers and backers of Broadway shows need to make money. I understand that taking your children to see a show is a great way to spend a Sunday afternoon – I did it all the time when I was growing up, and took my kids to theater, too. But other than The Book of Mormon - which I loved, by the way-which of these shows is current in its topic, challenging in its story? I mean, Rock of Ages? Really?

I don’t know if there will ever be another George and Ira Gershwin, Rodgers and Hammerstein, or, lost more recently, the incredible Marvin Hamlisch. Maybe Broadway is going the way of so much other entertainment, leaving the heart of things out of it just to get to the glitz and glamour or, conversely, getting to the dirt with stark reality. I do know that I’ll continue to return to the scores of 50-70 year old shows for lush, beautiful music and vocals, choosing Oklahoma over Phantom of the Opera any day of the week.

And the next time I’m in temple, I’ll think of Porgy and Bess. That George Gershwin was brilliant.

The post The Jewish Legacy on Broadway appeared first on Empty House, Full Mind.

My father and me, 1987

I look in the mirror and there he is, my father. He follows me wherever I go, his eyes gazing back at mine in every reflection I see. I feel him with me when I see The Godfather playing on cable tv, or when I hear Leon Russell singing A Song For You. Or, heaven help me, when I watch Bill O’Reilly – which is pretty much never, now that my father is gone. Though he died nearly 6 years ago, I feel him with me every day.

I hear his voice coming from me when I’m angry, my temper flaring as his did – fast and fierce and then done, chastising myself for what I can’t always control – though I’m much, much better at it than he was when I was a child. His temper was like a living entity in our home, just waiting to be awakened. Where does it come from, that fury? That’s something I’d ask him if I could bring him back.

And then, in a flash, they would be over, his tantrums. Mine too. A blaze and then just embers.

I clean my house and he’s by my side, straightening and wiping and spraying – both of us incapable of sitting among clutter or mess even for a few minutes. Up he would jump when he finished eating, rushing to do the dishes. Quickly I grab the piles of newspapers and magazines, placing them in baskets, as though they were never read at all. My father would vacuum on Saturday mornings at 7:30 am when I was in high school, waking me as he made his way around the house. I hate to vacuum now.

I grow impatient so quickly- waiting, being delayed, getting put on hold, standing in line…I even open the microwave before the cycle is over, anxious to be done with the infinitesimal amount of time it takes for the popcorn to pop. My father was never late for anything, and neither am I. Impatience was coded in his DNA, as much as his blue eyes, his dislike of coconut, his passion for chocolate. I’m the same.

He liked to laugh, loved a good joke or a funny tv show. He had a great laugh, my father. It was like his voice, deep and booming. I laugh loudly and often, trying to find humor where I can – but like him I also laugh at the absurdity of things with the eye of a cynic.

My father’s loyalty to his children was unshakable. Though there were times when he was absent when I was growing up – whether because of work, or his personal issues, or his frequent need for distance from the world (oh how I’m like him that way!), when I was grown, he would show up when the chips were down.

I remember him taking the phone from me when I was arguing with my first husband after our marriage had ended and reading him the (very loud and angry) riot act. From that moment on everything went smoothly as we dealt with our divorce.

When my baby boy was in the hospital for 6 days, my father was there, rotating shifts with my husband and me so we could get some sleep and a shower.

When I had  moments of despair, fear, doubt- depression overwhelming me- my father would sit and talk with me, giving me one of his trademark pep talks. I try to be that kind of parent, too. I think I am.

At the center of him was a basic and genuine kindness and likability that drew others to him all his life. I hope I’m like him in that way.

This Father’s Day, June 16, would have been my father’s 74th birthday. He would have wanted barbecued steaks and a chocolate cake, a day with his kids, sitting outside next to the pool, sunning himself while we reprimanded him for not wearing sunscreen on his bald head – “Don’t worry about it!” he would have said, laughing.

He thought he was invincible.

Happy Father’s Day, Daddy.

This is a bloghop! Read what the bloggers of Generation Fabulous have to say about the fathers in their lives.

The post I Am My Father’s Daughter Because… appeared first on Empty House, Full Mind.

I wrote this blog post while participating in a campaign by BOOMboxNetwork.com on behalf of the Alzheimer’s Prevention Initiative and received payment for my particpation. All opinions stated within are my own.

As we reach middle age, our brains sometimes don’t work as well as we’d like them to. For me, there are those moments – or longer – when I am grasping for the right word, the forgotten name, and especially where (oh where!) I put my reading glasses.

Often people will joke – “I must be getting Alzheimer’s Disease. I can’t remember anything.”

It’s not really funny.

Consider these facts:

 Alzheimer’s is the most common form of
dementia. It is not a normal part of aging,
although the greatest known risk factor is
increasing age.

Approximately 5.2 million Americans are living
with Alzheimer’s today, with one new case
diagnosed every 68 seconds.

One in nine Americans over age 65—and nearly
one in three Americans over age 85—is currently
diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.

It’s clear that Alzheimer’s will touch nearly every life in this country – whether by getting the disease ourselves or a loved one being afflicted. The financial, emotional and physical toll it takes on families is astronomical – over $203 billion dollars was spent last year on caring for those with Alzheimer’s Disease.

Researchers continue to search for both prevention and a cure for this debilitating illness. The Alzheimer’s Prevention Initiative is one program that not only will help researchers, but gives individuals the opportunity to feel as if we are doing something to participate in the quest to eradicate Alzheimer’s Disease. By registering with the Alzheimer’s Prevention Registry, each person is giving of him or herself to support research to find ways to prevent and treat Alzheimer’s Disease.

The idea that I could someday lose all of my memories – and my identity along with them – is terrifying. I’m signing up for the registry, and I hope you will too. Researchers need our help, and as long as we can do something as simple as this to aid them in their work, we should.

Next time you can’t remember a word, or the name of a song, or your cousin’s middle name, consider that there are many people who can’t remember anything at all. They need our help.

Sign up today for the Alzheimer’s Prevention Initiative. And if you can’t find your glasses to read the application, check the top of your head. Or next to the coffee pot. That’s often where I find mine.

For more information on the Alzheimer’s Prevention Initiative, visit their website.

The post Help to Find a Cure For Alzheimer’s Disease appeared first on Empty House, Full Mind.

This is not something that happens often. I mean, we go shopping together – our trips to the grocery store can be eventful, especially when we go to the deli department and he charms the women behind the counter. Who knew ordering sliced ham could be so flirtatious? Then of course there are the Costco visits, during which we spend a disproportionate amount of time in the electronics and men’s clothing departments. Honestly, that man would dress himself head-to-toe in Costco clothing, given the chance.

But today, it was my turn.

Having watched countless episodes of “What Not to Wear” together, my husband has developed some fairly strong opinions about how I should dress. Though he rarely tells me he doesn’t like what I’m wearing, he will enthusiastically compliment me on something that he finds particularly attractive. Often I’m taken by surprise by what appeals to him, including some nightgowns that have seen better days – but no matter, I appreciate his attention.

After returning a swimsuit cover-up that, unfortunately, I took on a vacation to Mexico with the security tag still attached, we wandered into the women’s clothing department at Nordstrom, and he was taken aback when he discovered that I have a lovely saleswoman, Manya,  who I’ve gone to for years whenever I shop there. He and Manya really hit it off, though. He began to pick things out for me, and sensing a hot customer, Manya joined in the fun, pulling this shirt and those pants, a dress, a sweater…by the time I went into the dressing room, there were dozens of things for me to try on.

I can’t tell you how much fun this was for me. I usually shop by myself, but my husband wanted to see every single thing I tried on. He complimented me on some things, dismissed others, and made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the store. He didn’t ask what anything cost, or show any outward concern about what the total would be- he simply wanted to help me find some new clothes for summer.

It wasn’t just that my husband took me shopping. It was that he enjoyed it as much as I did, and just wanted to do something nice for me.

Sometimes marriage is difficult. And sometimes, like today, being married is the best thing in the world.

Now I just need some new shoes.

The post A Great Day to Be Married appeared first on Empty House, Full Mind.

Though it may sound counter-intuitive, I believe there are reasons Why Empty Nesting May Be Easier for Stay-at-Home Moms – today on the Huffington Post.

Click through the link to read the post.

The post Empty Nesting – Easier for Stay-at-Home Moms? appeared first on Empty House, Full Mind.

Know what, you may ask.

Pretty much everything, actually.

Not that I know everything scholarly or literary, intellectual or cultural – in those areas, there’s always room for growth and education, learning and discovery. Not that I’m actually taking courses on Philosophy or 19th Century American Authors in some MOOC class – but at least I know there’s more for me to learn. And usually, I’ll be happy to tell you how uninformed I am about topics. The conflict in the middle east? I know just enough to get by, but certainly not enough to have an in-depth conversation. Economics? Fuhgedabouddit. The L.A. mayoral race? I got nothin’.

What I’m talking about is instinct and intuition. Seeing situations clear as day, reading people easily and quickly. Life, after 51 years, has taught me how to understand people pretty well. And the interesting thing is, the more I understand them and see that most people tell you whom they are pretty quickly – like, in the first ten minutes of a conversation – the more accepting I’ve become of the quirks and differences and distinctly unique qualities each person possesses.

Once, years ago, I stood at my kids’ preschool waiting to pick them up, and a woman nearby and I started chatting. I mentioned something about television shows – my son at the time was obsessed with Barney the Purple Dinosaur (heaven knows how I made it through those days). The woman – a lovely person, to be sure, said to me, “My kids only watch The Magic School Bus. No other television for them.” Immediately, I knew that she and I would never be friends – that statement was enough for me to know exactly who she was, and more importantly, it made me think she probably didn’t have a great opinion of me as a mother.

How did I know what she thought of me? How unfair and judgmental of me to think that of her. Who knows, maybe we would have been great friends.

Now, instead of dismissing people who are different from me, whose lives are nothing like mine, I find it fascinating to learn more about how they live, who they are, what they think. One of the miracles of social media is how it’s connected me with thousands of people I would never have had the opportunity to meet in real life, and the dozens I have gotten to know far better during virtual conversations than I could have imagined. I try never to judge harshly unless confronted with something that truly offends me – but that’s a rare event. I try to do this in real life, too – but to be honest, sometimes it’s more difficult face-to-face than it is online to be patient and hold off on my opinionated thoughts. The beauty of social media is that you have time to digest what is said before your inner Judge Judy steps in.

People are fighting their own battles. Everyone has a history. Everyone deserves the chance to show you who they genuinely are before you make a decision about whether they belong in your life or not.

Because even if you think you know everything, like I sometimes do, it often turns out your really don’t know much at all.

The post I Know Everything…and Nothing at All appeared first on Empty House, Full Mind.

When it comes to teaching, being excellent is not about experience or time on the job – it’s about passion. A great teacher adores her job, cares for her students, and knows what an impact she can have on a life. My daughter Katie was lucky to have a teacher like that all four years of high school, Dr. Randi Carp.

When Katie started her freshman year in high school, an older friend of hers casually suggested that she sign up for the girl’s beginning choir. Having given up softball, Katie was in search of an extra-curricular activity. At Los Alamitos High School, with over 3000 students, it’s a given that to be involved on campus, students need to find a place to fit in. To say that choir was the right fit for Katie would be an understatement, and most of the reason why choir became her second home was because of  Dr. Randi Carp.

Randi’s job was huge. With six separate choirs to teach, manage, and inspire, including one that met before school began each day, her life revolved around rehearsals, choreography, auditions, fundraising, competitions, and, of course, parent volunteers.Her total student roster was, if I remember correctly, over 400 kids.  Her beginning programs never turned anyone away, and there were students in those programs with learning disabilities who needed extra attention. Her award-winning advanced group, called SoundFX, was the brass ring for the kids who were the most talented and committed to her program. Think of “Glee” but with 40 students. The day Katie made it into SoundFX was one of the most wonderful days of her life.

Randi gave Katie the chance to shine and build confidence in herself. When Katie auditioned for solos for the 4 school shows each year, she nearly always was given a spot. Katie has a lovely voice -so did many of the kids – but Randi was generous to Katie, and in return Katie was fiercely loyal to Randi. There were times when I felt as though Randi and I were co-mothering Katie – she loved Randi that much. Yet I never felt any sense of resentment or discomfort about Randi’s influence on Katie – in fact, I was so happy to know that there was someone Katie trusted as much as she trusted Randi.

We traveled all over Southern California to watch the choir compete, and I wouldn’t have missed a moment. I went to every show the choir put on at the school each year. I volunteered at the local Bingo hall where we raised money for costumes, scholarships, trips and more. I did this for Katie and the rest of the choir students, but I did it for Randi, too. She inspired me to want to be as involved as I could, because she gave so much of herself and her time. The parents of the students in the choir program were as passionate about helping as the kids were about performing. It was an amazing experience to be part of that group.

During Katie‘s senior year, Randi announced that she and her husband were moving to Pennsylvania. My first thought was how grateful I was that her move would coincide with Katie’s graduation, and my next was how sorry I was that the younger students at Los Alamitos High wouldn’t have the chance to have this amazing teacher who had done so much for my daughter.

Randi and Katie are still great friends, and I am sure that, as other things learned during high school fall away, the lessons and experiences of being in choir will stay with Katie all her life.

Do you know a great teacher? Be sure to thank them today, National Teacher’s Day.

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We’re having a bloghop over at Generation Fabulous for Mother’s Day, entitled “The Best Thing I Learned From My Mother.” Click the link to read great posts from our contributors!

Happy Mother’s Day to you all.

The post The Best Thing I Learned From My Mother appeared first on Empty House, Full Mind.

English: Frank Sinatra at Girl’s Town Ball in Florida, March 12, 1960 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

We all have soundtracks of our lives.  During my teen years there were hours spent listening to the same record album over and over, sometimes even the same song, convinced that the artist had written the lyrics especially for me.  ”OHMYGOSH” my friends and I would shriek.  That’s EXACTLY how I feel!!!!” Neil Young, Elton John, Supertramp, Queen, Linda Ronstadt… it wasn’t until we got older that I realized – that was exactly how everybody felt.  In college, music became the backdrop for parties, the thumping beat at bars and clubs – it was the 80′s, after all, and the Cars and Blondie, the B-52′s and Toto didn’t make the kind of music that made you want to cry from the emotions their songs evoked.  We all just wanted to dance.

On the morning Sinatra died, my husband woke me to tell me the news before I heard it anyplace else.  He knew how sad I would be, and I was.  But I listened to his music, and of course, that made me feel better – which is, I suppose, what Sinatra was all about – making the world feel better through his music.

Sinatra liked to end his concerts this way:

May you live to be one hundred, and may the last voice you hear be mine.”

Not a bad way to go.

This is a gem – Sinatra and Elvis Presley singing a duet – utterly charming!

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