Watching TV

They have great cable TV here at Steve and Michelle's. I've never in all my life seen so many channels. While I've been semi-laid-up with back pain, I've had the opportunity to watch shows I'd only read about, or seen maybe once before. Or, as in the case of the soap opera, General Hospital, catch up on after decades of neglect.

Did you know that Luke Spencer, played by Anthony Geary, is STILL the star of General Hospital? And he is still interesting to watch. Gotta give the guy props for keeping a job that long. The latest plot involves Luke finding out that he inadvertently killed his grandson with his car. Didn't even know he ran over the little boy. Now, of course, the family is grieving and tensions are growing. In a final act of heroism, the boy's organs were able to save the life of his own cousin (I think) who was hospitalized for cancer on her kidneys. Lots of tears in this show.

Not enough tears in the "dress for success" reality program, "What Not To Wear". In this show, the hosts, a Cruella DaVille look-alike and her very gay friend seek out regular women who have been selected by their families and friends for a complete wardrobe make-over. I'd be humiliated and crying outright if this happened to me. The victims I've seen have dressed like either tomboys or prostitutes in their world. By the end of the show, after trying on several different outfits, having their hair cut and colored and new make-up applied, they are contrite and thankful to the hosts for showing them how to best present themselves to the world. Now, I was very resistant to this show at first, seeing the hosts as highly judgmental people hell-bent on criticizing women who have a life they can't fathom. But, somehow, I've come to look forward to the chastisement. Maybe it is because the show finds women who have such horrendous taste in clothing.

A show I'm happy to watch again is Anthony Bourdain's "No Reservations". He makes me giggle with that sarcastic wit of his. His writing is first rate and I like traveling vicariously with him around the globe. I am not a fan of the gross-out, though, and usually avert my eyes while he's trying to kill some poor animal or eat seal brains or something.

I've also watched episodes of "Pawn Stars" and "American Pickers". These are two of Steve's favorites. Pawn Stars centers on a pawn shop in Las Vegas. In this one, a trio of shyster pawn brokers make deals with people who are bringing in stuff to sell. In an episode I watched last week, it seemed like everybody was hoping to get $5000 for their unwanted treasures. My guess is that there was a high-stakes poker game on the Strip that night. The pawn stars never give folks what they are asking. There's always a whole lot of dickering that goes on and people usually take the low-ball offers. Probably just so they can be on TV.

American Pickers is less oily. In this one, 2 men cross the country looking for Americana treasures to sell on online auctions. They wind up in rural barns and ancient hardware stores and find old gas station signs and wooden telephone booths and WWII memorabilia. I like this show. It reminds me of hanging out with my mom's old boyfriend, Cal. He was really into old trucks and signs and stuff. The "stars" on American Pickers are likable and I think it is neat how they find treasures in unlikely places.

Don't ask me what channel these shows are on, though. Except for Bourdain on The Travel Channel, I have no idea. There are hundreds of options on the channel guide. Usually I scroll down for about 5 minutes before settling on something. Nice to know that you can still find episodes of "I Dream of Jeanie" and "Star Trek: The Next Generation" every day. I can't tell you what time they're on, though.

I'm trying to not get too used to this decadence. What am I going to do when I eventually get a place without cable TV?

Gus-Gus and Kelpie

Animals are the best. Here at Steve and Michelle's Gus-Gus and Kelpie are helping me find my way.

Gus-Gus is large, for a kitty. He weighs in at around 20 lbs, yet, like the person writing this blog, he doesn't eat all that much. About as much as an average cat. Gus-Gus has a very slow metabolism. It will serve him well, in times of crisis, should food become scarce. He has a very low center of gravity. His favorite places to hang are under the dining room table, and on the bed, in the middle of Steve and Michelle's comforter. He's a quiet cat but when he looks at you, his eyes seem to be desperately trying to communicate something. I'm trying to settle myself to figure out exactly what that is. Perhaps it is, "Do YOU speak my language? Will YOU understand when I need a cat treat?" He lets me pet him and brush him and scratch under his chin, but so far, Gus-Gus has not jumped up on my lap.

Kelpie is a red, medium-sized dog with the pointed nose and ears of a German Shepherd. That is not her breed, however. She has the mixed blood of a Sheltie, a Shar-Pei and a Mastiff. Michelle had her DNA tested. Steve is skeptical. Whatever she is, she is about the sweetest, best-behaved dog I have ever met. So calm and loving to her human companions. While she loves to sit under the dining room table during dinner and stare heavenward, hoping against hope for a wayward morsel, mostly, she is not a beggar. When you need a little bit of puppy lovin', just call her name and she'll sidle up beside you and let you have your way with her. She is, however, a very jealous and protective girl. If she happens upon me giving Gus-Gus some affection, she will demand some cuddling for herself. Also, she is not a fan of domestic discord. She starts to howl if voices are raised. Kelpie likes a peaceful home. Her doggie door provides her with access to the outside world whenever she wants and you can find her favorite napping places by looking for the dents in the lawn.

Getting to know two new animal friends helps make the uncertainty in my life a little easier to handle. I am once again putting food in their bowls and cleaning a litter box. I feel almost normal.

Paparazzi Photos of Me and Barry

Click on the title of this post and you will be taken to a link of wire photos from the night of Barry's party in 1978. There, you'll find me, at 17 years old, in 4 of the photos!

I like how everybody is identified in the pics except for me. Unknown girl - who in the heck is this young woman? Pretty funny.

Something's Comin' Up

Wise words from Barry

Back in Reno

Recovering (again) in Reno at the home of Steve and Michelle. Such a lovely house. How lucky I am to have an "ex-boyfriend" who is such a good friend and even luckier, for him to have married a woman who likes me and welcomes me into their home!

Sweet pink-nosed kitty Gus-Gus and red dog Kelpie are helping with this transition. After 4 days of rest, I am slowly coming around to join the living. Clothes have been laundered. Groceries and 2 sun hats have been purchased. My body has been vibrating for several days. It is only now, that I am starting to feel some sense of normalcy. But I am still very tired.

So, from this new home, I try again. Tender-footed baby steps are being placed one in front of the other as I move toward life.

Little Bit of Judas - Gino

Thought Ian, Tom D. and Dennis Kelly might get a kick out of this one. Same for my twin.

Barry, Belief and Reality

When I was a teenager, I used to write letters to Barry Manilow. His music touched me so deeply that I was compelled to share my thoughts and feelings with him by putting pen to paper. I had a whole system: I used red envelopes and hand-printed the address on each letter by imitating the graphics on his albums. I numbered each letter I wrote. I wanted to make sure my letters stood out and I was very persistent. In my writing, I did not just praise Barry's music or tell him I thought he was cute. I could be a harsh critic sometimes, especially when he compromised his integrity by recording some vapid songs, that were, in my opinion, nothing more than thinly-veiled attempts to make a hit record. One time, I was especially stern after I heard his recording of "Can't Smile Without You". It broke my heart to write Barry that letter and to my surprise, he wrote me back saying he agreed with my opinion of his song. However, he fully stood by the production of the record and was proud of the results. Barry also called me his "most intelligent fan" and said he knew how difficult it must have been for me to write that letter to him. I was 17 years old.

I still have that letter. I still have all of the letters Barry wrote me. I think the first one written in his handwriting arrived in my mailbox when I was 16. His letters were almost all hand-written, and a paragraph long. Except for the "Can't Smile Without You" letter. That one extended on to a second page. Promotional people from Arista Records called my mom's house, three or four times, to offer me and my family free tickets to see Barry in concert.

I remember telling my friends about this. They thought I was crazy. My friend Sam's mom put unbelievable pressure on him and swore up-and-down that his poor friend, Anne, was making it all up, in an attempt to get attention. And then, this happened:

1978 -- 32 years ago
Moline High School student Anne Silberman left for New York this morning to go to a party at the St. Regis Hotel, at the invitation of her favorite entertainer, Barry Manilow. Miss Silberman has written 104 fan letters to Manilow. The party is honoring Manilow's return to New York, midway through his U.S. tour.

No, I was not a "Moline High School student", but my dad, never one to shy away from publicity, insisted that a reporter from Moline, Illinois take a photo and write an article for the local paper, stating that he and his darling daughter were flying to New York City at the request of Barry Manilow, to attend a party in his honor and a concert.

I was visiting my dad in Illinois, over the summer between my high school junior and senior year, when my mother, in Pennsylvania, got a gold-engraved invitation for me in the mail from Arista Records - all expenses paid. Mom got a phone call with an invitation, too. So, after buying a couple of new outfits, my father and I went to New York City and had limousines transport us from the airport to the hotel and later, from the hotel to the concert.

The real event, however, was the big gala held in Barry's honor in the hotel's grand ballroom. Arista had planned on having me sit next to the New York newspaper columnist, Earl Wilson, hoping I would provide enough juicy tidbits to ensure a swell human-interest story in the Times the next morning. However, once I got to the ballroom and saw Barry and his back-up singer, Reparata, enter the room, I walked right up and introduced myself to him. He hugged me and said "Where are you sitting?" and I pointed to my table way in the back. He then said "No! You're sitting WITH ME!!" And, he got the waiters to set up a place for me in between him and Reparata. The big round table was also populated by his songwriting partners.

During the course of that incredible night (especially for a 17-year-old girl from Harrisburg, PA) I met Ertha Kitt, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Roberta Flack and most of the amazing and creative people who helped Barry write and produce his songs. When Barry introduced me to Bruce Sussman, he told me he gave Bruce one of my letters praising a song he had written. At the time, I was so stunned all I could think to say was "You Gave Away My Letters?" I had never considered that anybody else would ever find my words valuable. Of course, I was immediately mortified I said such a thing to Barry.

And Mr. Manilow was incredibly kind to me that night, and all of the other times I got to talk with him. A few years later, after a concert in Maryland, he even had everybody else clear out of his dressing room and he sat down and spoke ALONE with me for about 15 minutes. Unfortunately, I had recently injured myself and had to sit down on a FRICKIN' DONUT CUSHION the whole time - Barry, again, was very kind. By that time, I had begun singing in bands. One of the problems facing a Top-40 cover band was how to end a cover song, that faded out on the record. I asked Barry how he got his ideas for song endings and he went over to the piano and explained why he modulated keys. He said you needed to let the audience know that the end was coming and that the endings had to be dramatic so that they would know for sure that the song was over.

I am remembering and writing all of this now, in order to explain to those who do not believe, why it is easier for me to firmly believe that many years ago, another famous, kind and handsome man and I fell in love above the city lights in Montreal. And I never knew (for sure) that it was him until this past Saturday night.

I Met God in a Dream

Early this morning, in the very last dream before awaking, I met God.

He was sitting at a small round wooden table, in a coffee shop, in a little room up a couple of stairs and behind the barista's counter.

I was compelled to walk towards God because of his eyes. They were clear - almost luminescent. I recognized those eyes and knew I had seen them before in the face of my Beloved. God invited me to sit at his small table. I looked into His face. He appeared to be in his early 50's. His Asian/Caucasian face was a round face with a very kind and open expression. His grey hair was cut very short. God looked like a computer geek. And, as it turns out, that is who God is.

In just a few sentences, He explained to me that all that we see, all of creation and each one of us is part of a program He created (like The Sims). God wanted to experience everything - all emotions: happiness, joy, passion, misery, despair, enlightenment and sadness. So, He created a program inhabited by every kind of person He could imagine. Each person (or Avatar) would be guided and directed by God, but each Avatar would take a part in his or her own creation. Each Avatar would have the gift of free will - providing surprises that God hadn't anticipated and, therefore, more experiences and emotions.

In those few minutes I was filled with a sense of total completeness and peace. After our short conversation, I looked again into God's familiar glowing eyes and asked Him if he was, in fact, my beloved. And God said: "You are all my beloved ones. However, Anne, You are an Avatar. And all Avatars are beautiful. Your beloved is beautiful, too."

Tears filled my eyes as I reached over and laid my hand on top of God's.

And then I woke up.

Current situation

Currently, I am homeless. Some very kind people are putting me up for a few days.

And, someone stole my identity on my ATM card - and they took all the money I had out of my bank account. Best guess is that my pin number was stolen when I used it at an Arco am/pm gas pump. That's the last time I ever go there to buy gas. The bank will put money back into my account tomorrow while they investigate.

I don't know what to do. I'm trying not to freak out. Since I graduated from college, one rug after another has been ripped out from under my feet. Bankruptcy, crazy Nikki at the UW, Grad school, open heart surgery, the pizza place's non-existent health insurance plan, getting fired from 2 jobs in 2 months, nearly dying of toxic spore inhalation, having to give up all of my possessions, my cat running away, and now being tossed out of my sister's place and having my bank account robbed.

Stay away from me. I am nothing but bad news.