My Take on the Bad Bunny Half-Time Show

I watched the Bad Bunny Apple Music Super Bowl halftime show on YouTube because I wanted to make an informed opinion. Here are my thoughts: 

I did not care for the music, but NOT because of the Spanish. The Spanish didn't bother me at all. It’s a beautiful romance language and I like the sound of it. I once attended an all-Chinese church service and the music was really beautiful even though I didn't understand a single word. I just didn't think Bad Bunny's music had any mmmmph to it. To me, it was boring. 

 I also think the Spanish was a rebellion again ICE and Trump and all that he stands for and I'm OK with that. 

But the set design was pure Caribbean and I think he nailed that 100%. The pink house is exactly what Nassau looks like where (my ex-husband) Adrian grew up. And the table of four men playing dominos – that is a staple of the Caribbean. In fact, directly across the street from Adrian's mom's house in Baintown, Nassau is where all the guys play dominos all day and night. I had told Adrian that if he died I was going to bury half his ashes under the tree at his mom's house and half under the tree across the street where the guys played dominos. He really loved the idea and said yes that was what he wanted. It didn’t happen, but that’s OK. 

His mom's house is kind of a neighborhood bar. Everyone gathers there on Friday nights. There's a DJ and they sell beer and there's a big loud party just like on the halftime show set. I attended those events many times. Bad Bunny's set design made me miss all the good times I had in the Bahamas. I really loved it there and still miss it. 

The branches that the women were chopping down were probably sugar cane. Sugar cane is used in rum and Puerto Rico is the epicenter of Bacardi Rum. I actually have a photograph of Adrian standing in a sugar cane garden in a friend’s parents' back yard in Mangrove Cay on the island of Andros (Bahamas).

I loved Lady Gaga's song, short though it was. The butt shaking was definitely not my cup of tea, but that's the Spanish culture for you. Overall, I liked that he put the emphasis on Puerto Rican culture and not on himself. I think he really displayed Puerto Rican culture well and I could see he put a lot of effort into making it feel real. And of course I couldn't help but think of my former Pastor Ruben, who was from Puerto Rico, and how much we miss him. 

 And the set must have cost a fortune and taken a lot to put together. I've never seen a halftime show set with so many people before. Again, people gathering together and partying together is a big part of Caribbean culture. 

I like at the end that Bad Bunny said God Bless America in English. That was very respectful of him. Overall, I can understand how people who are not familiar with the Caribbean would hate it. The music itself did not do anything for me. But all of the visual elements – the pink house, the men playing dominos, food and drink stands on the side of the road, the sugar cane fields, hundreds of people in the streets dancing and having a good time together – it felt a little bit like going home. It really made me miss the Bahamas.

If you like fiction, please read my novel. It's a story of strength and success, but it has plenty of crime, deceit, backstabbing, and of course, love. Find In Fashion's Web on Amazon. It's available in print, on Kindle and on Audible. 

The Day I Went Into a Full-On Panic Attack at a Joan Jett Concert

I was in Vegas on the old strip, but I wasn't there for the concert. It just so happened that Joan Jett was playing a free concert down at one end that afternoon, and because it was free, there were more people than the area could handle. It looked very much like the crowd in the picture (courtesy of the Four Queens Hotel). Wall to wall people. 

I was in the Four Queens Casino with my friend Dawn and I wanted to go back to our hotel, but she didn't. She said, "go around the long way because you don't want to get stuck in that crowd." Well stupid me, I didn't want to go the long way, I wanted to go as the crow flies, LOL, so I took the short route. 

I had gone about 50 or 60 feet into the tunnel when I noticed the mob scene in front of me. I turned around to try to go back out but the back had gotten as bad as the front. I had nowhere to go but forward. 

I don't like crowds. I don't like tight spaces. I can't handle being trapped. So I completely freaked. A policy officer came by and I yelled, "Please get me out of here, I'm claustrophobic, I can't do this! Please help me!" There was nothing he could do and he kept going. 

We were moving forward, but in small baby-ish steps, and I couldn't see the end. I had no idea how long I was going to be trapped for. It could have been hours for all I knew. 

At one point, I remember grabbing the back of the shirt of the guy in front of me and yelling that I was freaking out and claustrophobic and I needed help. He said it's OK, just hold on. I held on like I had fallen off a cliff and he was the only thing that was going to save me.

Behind me was a woman. She started making rude comments to me. I was so frozen I never even turned around to look at her. I couldn't. All I could do was face forward. I guess it was his girlfriend or wife or something and I had come in between them and separated them and didn't realize it. At one point she yelled, "You shouldn't have come here if you couldn't handle it!" And I said, "I didn't mean to be here! I'm not here for the concert. I was just trying to get back to my hotel!" I think she shut up after that. I don't remember. 

I kept trying to breathe but it was hard. I was terrified. Then after about 20 minutes we had gotten through the crowd and all of a sudden I was free. I let go of the guy's shirt and I said thank you so much I really appreciate it. He said no problem or you're welcome or something. He was really nice. 

To this day I can't tell you what he looked like or what she looked like. I can't tell you what color his shirt was or what kind of shirt it was. All I remember is being trapped on all sides by a mob of people. It was my worst crowd experience ever. I hope and pray that I never have to deal with anything like that again! Whew!

If you like fiction, please read my novel. It's a story of strength and success, but it has plenty of crime, deceit, backstabbing, and of course, love. Find In Fashion's Web on Amazon. It's available in print, on Kindle and on Audible. 

My "Woodstock-esque" Concert Experience

When I was 18, I went with a few friends to Englishtown Raceway in Englishtown, New Jersey to see an all-day concert with Marshall Tucker, New Riders of the Purple Sage and Grateful Dead. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect it to be Woodstock-esque. There were 150,000 people! The entire Grateful Dead concert is posted on YouTube. Here's the video! 

Anyway, we had to park over a mile away on a side street. But we never had to ask anyone how to get to the concert because the line was like the proverbial line of ants at a picnic! It followed a straight line, but then deviated to the right and went into a liquor store (LOL), came out of the liquor store, and then proceeded forward!

It's been 50 years, so I don't remember very much of the concert, except there was this one moment where they announced a woman down near the stage had gone into labor and they were creating a clearing so they could bring in the Grateful Dead's helicopter to take her to the hospital. They were supposed to come back later that day and tell us what she had but they never did. 

I remember one time standing up to go find the port-a-potties. When I saw how many thousands of people there were, I got dizzy and sat back down. When I finally did leave, I had to step over blankets and people! There was no clear path!

Heading home at the end of the day, I gave my carkeys to my friends Lisa and John. They were supposed to arrive at the car before the rest of us did but we got there first and they ended up going in the wrong direction and getting lost. So here it was 3 a.m. in the morning and the streets were loud with people everywhere. Thankfully, the house in front of where we parked had its living room lights on and the front door was open. I went and knocked and asked whether the man had a crow bar. I explained that my friend who had my keys was lost and said my purse was in the trunk and that I had a spare set of keys in it and could he help me get them out? He was very helpful. He pryed my trunk open. I pulled out my purse and then he tied the open lock hole down to the bottom of the trunk with some rope.

We drove around for about 15 minutes and finally found Lisa and John walking about a half mile away. But I'll never forget this experience! Today, I avoid crowds. I can't even imagine being in such a crowded situation now. You couldn't pay me enough to be in that kind of a situation, LOL. 

If you like fiction, please read my novel. It's a story of strength and success, but it has plenty of crime, deceit, backstabbing, and of course, love. Find In Fashion's Web on Amazon. It's available in print, on Kindle and on Audible. 

How to Sell Ticketmaster Tickets

A few years ago two girlfriends and I bought tickets almost a year in advance for the final concert of Kenny Chesney's stadium tour at Fenway Park in Boston. The concert sold out in 15 minutes, so it wasn't like we could have waited to buy those tickets! You had to be first in line or your didn't get any. Not unusual for a headliner of any genre.

But a year later, all three of us found ourselves in completely different places in our lives. I had started a new relationship with my boyfriend and moved in with him. Lillian and her husband had sold their house, retired and bought a house in Maine. Carol Lea and her husband bought Frank's parents' winter home in Florida and started spending a lot of time there. 

We found ourselves in a predicament we never thought we'd be in: making time for a concert for one of our favorite singers/performers was going to be tough. So we made the difficult decision to try to sell the tickets. 

I started out posting on Facebook, with no response. But then I received an email from Ticketmaster: "Can't make the concert? Sell your tickets on Ticketmaster.com." So I hit the button. I found the process to be really easy. All I had to do is say how many tickets I wanted to sell -- 3 -- and set a price for the tickets. I think I may have entered the full price of the tickets, I don't remember. 

Then, a few weeks before the concert, I got a message that our tickets were sold. Ticketmaster handled everything from selling to payments and reimbursing me! In the end I think we only sacrificed about 10% of the cost, which was well worth it. 

I highly recommend using Ticketmaster's easy selling option rather than trying to sell tickets on your own.

If you like fiction, please read my novel. It's a story of strength and success, but it has plenty of crime, deceit, backstabbing, and of course, love. Find In Fashion's Web on Amazon. It's available in print, on Kindle and on Audible. 

Why I Thank God Every Day for My Voice

I'm a singer. I can belt very high and hold a note for a decent amount of time. 

I also have the capability of talking to a room of 500 people without a microphone. I can get that loud. And I proved that today at church when we didn't have the key to get into the sound console to get out the microphones. We had to do everything sans audio today!

But it surprises even me that I have this capability. I feel that it is entirely a blessing from God. Here's why.

I was born with asthma. I was two weeks early. When I was born, my lungs were so filled up with fluid that they had to hang me on a downward angle with tubes in my lungs to drain them. I couldn't breathe. I was drowning in my own fluid. And if I had gone full term, I might not have made it. 

As a child, I couldn't run. If I ran, I would get out of breath, and my body didn't have the capacity to regain it's breath without medication. If I was playing kicksocker and I ran to first base, that's it. I was done, I had to go in the house because I was having an asthma attack and I needed medication to bring it under control. 

I spent a lot of time in the hospital. Up until I was about 12, I was in the hospital at least a week a year. Twice a day a respiratory tech would wheel in a big breathing machine -- they're obsolete now and replaced by nebulizers -- and I would have breathing treatments. When I was 10, I was in an oxygen tent. 

During the holidays, I was always sick. I was allergic to Christmas trees and I remember being four or five and not being able to lift my head up off the pillow. My siblings would come upstairs on Christmas morning after opening all their gifts and ask if I wanted to come downstairs and open mine and all I remember is saying no and how guilty I felt because I felt like I was letting them down and I know they felt the same way about me. I could see the guilt on their faces. I could barely lift my head off the pillow. One Christmas I made it to the couch but didn't really feel like opening presents. Someone had to open them for me. 

I could never play outside in the winter because the cold air would aggravate my lungs. In elementary school, during the winter, I always went inside and sat in the classroom alone for 20 minutes while everyone else stood outside in the freezing cold.

In second grade, I missed two months of school. In third grade I missed two months of school. In tenth grade, I got a doctor's note to get out of gym class because in ninth grade I had multiple asthma attacks trying to run around the gym. 

When I was 16, inhalers were approved by the FDA and made publicly available, and they changed my life. Suddenly I could breathe. I could exercise. I could do sports. So all my life I was on a daily maintenance inhaler and I also carried an emergency inhaler. Also, in my early twenties, my body developed the ability to regain its breathing pattern without medicine. All I had to do was stop whatever strenuous thing I was doing and my breathing came back to normal in 5 minutes. 

Meanwhile, all this time, I loved to sing to the radio and to records. Music was such a huge influence in my life. I used to write down lyrics. I spent my babysitting money as a teenager on 45s and albums. But I never had what I thought was a very good voice. I sang with the church folk group when I was 14 and was always afraid to sing loud because I didn't think I sounded good and nobody ever told me that I did so I figured if I did, they would have told me. 

When I hit about 40, I found singing to be so therapeutic that I would come home from work and sing for hours every night. Usually, it would be one song that I had fallen in love with and would sing over and over and over and over, until I fell in love with the next song and did the same thing. I eventually took singing lessons and became a karaoke junkie, going out six nights a week to sing. I was good at belting and hitting high notes. 

At the beginning of COVID, however, I had been suffering from laryngitis for three months, and I knew it was because the daily maintenance inhalers had been known to do damage to vocal chords. So I spoke with my doctor and told her I wanted to try going off my daily maintenance inhaler for two weeks and see how I did. If I couldn't breathe, I'd go back on. I had been on a daily maintenance inhaler for 48 years!

I've never gone back. Much to my surprise, I could breathe! Two weeks turned into two months, and then two years, and I have been off a daily maintenance inhaler now for five years! And, I gained back the two lowest notes on my singing register that I could never hit before!

The bottom line is, who would have thought that with all my lung problems, that I could sing, and not only sing but hit really high notes and hold them for long periods of time? It can only be God at work. 

If I had been born in the 1800s or 1700s, I would not have survived. I would not be alive today. I am grateful and thankful that the medicine worked when I needed it to but also that I no longer need it today. But I am most especially grateful for this gift I have been given from God. 

If you like fiction, please read my novel. It's a story of strength and success, but it has plenty of crime, deceit, backstabbing, and of course, love. Find In Fashion's Web on Amazon. It's available in print, on Kindle and on Audible. 

My Favorite Childhood Memories: How Many Can You Relate To?

I have some of the most amazing memories of my childhood growing up in New England. I was really big into climbing trees. I lived on a short dead end street that was downhill, and at the end it had a small woods. There was one tree in particular there that I really liked to climb. One day I remember I went up too high and my mom’s cousin Fuzzy (my second cousin, a police officer) had to come and get me down. I never went that high up again. 

My best friend Mary Ann lived in the house to the right of the woods. Her bedroom was at the front of the house and she had a little portable record player and she used to bring the record player out to the front porch and run the chord through her bedroom window. She had a box of 45s and we used to dance on the porch, just the two of us, for hours. 

It was the sixties and straight legged stretchy pants were in – funny how things come back, right? – and they had stirrups to put your feet through (thank God those didn’t come back!). She and I both had a set in every color. The two of us were constantly out there on the porch in our stretchy colored pants. She was probably around 9 and I was maybe 10 or 11. When I think back now we probably looked like dorks. But still to this day this is one of my favorite memories. 

From ages 4-11 I skated on a small pond in the winter. I remember it being full of parents, small children, teenagers, and lots of voices and laughter – it was right out of a Currier & Ives picture book. But before we went to the pond, we learned how to skate in the backyard. We lived on the left side of a two-family house that Fuzzy owned, and we had an above-ground pool. In the winter he emptied the water and took the pool down. But there was aluminum sheeting just 5 inches high that encased the circle that the pool went into, and one day, when temperatures were below freezing, Fuzzy filled the circle with water, and it froze. My mom bought us all beginner skates with double runners, and that was the start of a lifelong love affair with ice skating. I feel so grateful to have grown up with that experience. 

I grew up on the shoreline of the Atlantic Ocean, and always within walking distance of the beach. As soon as I was old enough to be independent, I would walk to the beach. I spent entire summers there. Now, I could never live inland for any length of time. I need to have a beach nearby. I’m not a sunworshiper per se. I just really enjoy walking along the shoreline and taking in all the smells, sights and sounds -- the waves crashing, the seagulls chirping, the feel of the breeze coming in off the water as it brushed against my face and arms.

I feel so grateful to have had a great childhood. I was raised by a single mom who worked two jobs her whole life, and I was also a very sick child, in and out of the hospital a lot. But I and my siblings never lacked for anything. I hope your childhood memories bring a smile to your face like mine do!

If you like fiction, please read my novel. It's a story of strength and success, but it has plenty of crime, deceit, backstabbing, and of course, love. Find In Fashion's Web on Amazon. It's available in print, on Kindle and on Audible. 

Back When I Was A Las Vegas Showgirl

In April 2004 I was on a business trip in Las Vegas and staying at the Paris Hotel. Walking down the hall with my then husband Adrian, there was an open-air storefront for a photography studio that would put your face on a magazine cover. Think Sports Illustrated with you holding the biggest fish ever caught! LOL.

So the guy's waving us over and we're like, no thanks, not interested. And he said, "C'mon, c'mon, just look, no pressure." So I got in front of the big white screen and all I could see was the camera in front of me and  the white screen behind me. 

So I'm standing there for a few minutes and people are walking by and they're laughing hysterically, and I'm wondering, what is so funny? 

Finally the guy shows me the picture. He had put my face on the body of a Las Vegas showgirl. Well as soon as I saw it I knew I had to take that picture home! 

For years it hung on the wall of my home office. And every time we had a visitor and I was giving the nickel tour, we'd get to the picture and I would say, "Boy those were the days when I had really flat abs!!!" And people would look at me with the most serious expression like they thought I really meant it! After all, it does look just like me, right????

I'm not a prankster but it was fun seeing people's expressions!

If you like murder, love and intrigue, please check out my novel, In Fashion's Web on Amazon.

Black Lives Have Always Mattered to Me…but I Admit I’m Not Perfect

I was taught that all people are equal at a very early age. I remember when I was about 5 years old, my mom’s best friend was a black woman. The fact that she was a maid for the rich family who owned the company my mother worked for was something that I did not comprehend at a young age. 

Once a week, my mom would take us to the company softball games, the team of which was heavily populated by the black men who worked in the factory. Then after the games, my mom would go with her girlfriend to a black bar. While I was aware that it was black bar, it was not something I cared about or concerned myself with. We ran around and played as all children do.

I went to a private Christian elementary school called St. Mary’s. We had black students, but they were very rare, so rare that there were only about one per grade. Their rarity made them special and there was no racism that I was aware of. What I was too young (or too white?) to understand is what it must have felt like to be the only person of color in an entirely white class.

In 9th grade, at a private Christian high school, I befriended a Haitian girl. Yolanda. She and I became very close that year. In hindsight, I probably latched on to her because I didn’t want her to be alone. I was trying to protect her and let her know that she had a friend. 

For the rest of my high school years, I transferred to a larger public school where racial riots were in full force. Thankfully, I never had a problem. I like to think it was because I treated everyone equally. 

However, as I said, I am not perfect. I remember one day when I was in my twenties, I was carrying groceries into my apartment building and a black man was walking behind me. He asked if he could help. I said no thank you. I like to think that it was more because he was a stranger than the fact that he was black, but he ended up being a friend of my neighbor John across the way, and I said, oh you’re a friend of John’s. If I had known I would have let you help. And he asked if he had been white would I have let him help? And I honestly don’t know the answer. To this day, this situation still haunts me. 

When I reached around my forties, that’s when I learned that treating everyone equally is not enough to eliminate racism. I learned that black people, particularly black women, don’t want their color to be invisible, but rather, they want to embrace their color and want others to embrace it too.

I try not to judge people and to accept everyone for their true selves. But I realize that I am not perfect and I hope to continue to learn and grow in my humanity and my compassion. I pray that others will too.

Please Donate to Komen.Org to Help with the Fight Against Breast Cancer

And if you donate by October 31, Bank of America and other Komen partners will triple your gift!

In mid-September of this year, I woke up on a Saturday morning and discovered a dark purple bruise on my right breast. Knowing that breast bruising could be affiliated with a fast growing, aggressive breast cancer without lumps, I was scared. It took 10 days for me to find out that my bruise, thankfully, was just a bruise. But not before I had completely convinced myself that my life had changed in an instant and it was never going to be the same again.

I was one of the lucky ones. But it certainly was an experience I will never forget.

So I would be remiss if I let the entire month of October pass by without pointing out to the world that it is Breast Cancer Awareness month. And if you donate to the Susan G. Komen Foundation, Bank of America, a key partner of the Susan G. Komen Foundation, as well as other partners of SGK, will triple your gift!

The Susan G. Komen Foundation funds research for the goal of getting the current number of breast cancer deaths down by 50 percent by 2026. Will you help?

DONATE HERE. Thank you.

Is Your Binge Watching Turning Into an Addiction?

Having an addictive personality is 50 percent genetics and 50 percent poor coping skills. At least that's what they say at addictionsandrecovery.org.

But what if new technology is making us more addictive than ever, and training the next generation of people, including those who might not have an addictive personality, to become addicts?

One behavior in particular that has me concerned is binge-watching a TV show. Traditional TV is like maintaining portion control when eating. With TV, you schedule your watching when the shows are on, and you only watch one episode a week, like having three square meals a day.

Conversely, binge watching is like an all-you-can-eat buffet. We can have as much as want, as often as we want. Nobody tells us when to stop or what not to eat. Is that a healthy behavior for us to get used to? And even more, is it a healthy behavior for us to teach our children? We've already set a precedent with video games. I, personally, have been addicted to a good book. Would binge watching be adding another nail in the addiction coffin?

Now imagine someone who has an addictive personality. Maybe they're a drug addict, an alcoholic, a smoker, a food addict. Someone who has the addictive gene in their DNA would probably become even more addicted to binge-watching TV than someone who doesn't have the gene.

I think it's important that we all keep our binge watching in perspective. I suggest the following:

• Limit the number of episodes you watch per week.
• Put your to-do list first and don't start binge watching until all your chores are done and responsibilities are taken care of. 
• If you find yourself getting in too deep, stand up and take a break. Change your scenery, breathe deep, take a walk, look around you and see what else needs to be taken care of before you go back to the TV.

Remember, it's just television. Don't ignore your real life because of it.

If you like a good book that keeps you on your toes and surprises you at every turn, please check out my novel, In Fashion's Web on Amazon. It has 10 5-star reviews!

I Have a Dream, Too

No, it’s nothing like that of the late, great Dr. Martin Luther King. Not even close. But it’s something that has been on my mind since I was a teenager. And that was a very (very!) long time ago. It’s about healing the earth.

My vision is this:

I would like to see recycling become the third largest industry in America behind manufacturing and farming. I believe we need to start building huge recycling centers where robots, machines and people separate garbage from recyclable materials and send the recyclables directly down a shoot into a recycling factory.

The problem with today’s recycling system is that hardly anything gets recycled. There is more recyclable material still thrown away today, in my opinion, than is getting recycled. Nobody recycles at parties. My gym doesn’t bother recycling. Even where I work the building doesn’t recycle. And I live in a recycling state. I would guess we’re probably recycling about 10 percent of what we should be today.

Also, it’s rumored that, in many towns the two trucks – one for trash and one for recycling – actually unload their wares at the same dump when no one is looking. So while, on the outside, it looks like we’re doing a good job of it as a country, I think we’re actually doing a lousy job of it, and until we reach 100 percent recycling of all recyclable materials, we’re not going to make any progress with global warming.

There’s money to be made in recycling if we treat it like a business and it would be if it was run by engineers and scientists. Also, I think there should be a ‘chief recycling officer’ on the U.S. president’s team.

Recycled materials should go into literally every single thing that is produced, provided it has durabilty and strength. There could be a nationwide invention contest where people try to come up with new ideas and the best ones win, I don’t know, maybe a business contract, or a full college education. And if we were serious about doing it, then the cost of recycled materials and recycling production would come down.

If it was the third largest industry in America, it would pay well and offer great benefits and job advancement. College graduates would have job priority and the business model would be based on project management and problem solving, not boring assembly lines. There would be research and development (R&D) divisions in every state to constantly look at ways to improve both manufacturing and recycling.

Also, every recycling center would have a thrift shop where things that were thrown out but fixable would be pulled off the line and repaired and refurbished, and then sold in these cute little boutiques at the recycling centers all around the country.

Anyway, that’s my dream. It really excites me and I may not see it in my lifetime, but I would like to think that someday, this just might come true.

If you like a good book that keeps you on your toes and surprises you at every turn, please check out my novel, In Fashion's Web on Amazon. It's got 10 5-star reviews!

One Year After His Death, I am Grieving for George Michael for the First Time

I recently watched the George Michael documentary on Showtime, and I was completely moved to tears. The first time I watched it, my heart ached greatly. But the second time I watched it, my heart completely broke for him. Even now, days afterward, I can't stop myself from crying when I listen to Jesus to a Child.

I am amazed at all that I learned from it. The things I discovered about George have changed my opinion of him permanently and watching it a second time made everything that much clearer. First of all, I had no idea he was so driven and so dedicated to his craft. He was an amazing songwriter and he spent a considerable amount of time devoted to that aspect of his business.

And he had a voice like an angel. I had always enjoyed his songs, but I only knew what I heard on top 40 radio. Ironically, despite being a writer and a lyricist myself, I never took the time to understand him or his music. Now that I know what was behind many of his songs, I am a changed person.

For instance, take the song Freedom. If I saw any of the news items about George trying to get out of his Sony contract, at the time, I never paid much attention to it. Now I have seen how central it was to his life and how it was choking him to the point where he couldn't grow into the artist he wanted to be. And the song reflects that:

Heaven knows I was just a young boy ... Didn't know what I wanted to be ... I was every little hungry schoolgirl's pride and joy ... And I guess it was enough for me ... To win the race? A prettier face! ...  Brand new clothes and a big fat place On your rock and roll TV ... But today the way I play the game is not the same No way ... Think I'm gonna get me some happy ... I think there's something you should know ... I think it's time I told you so ... There's something deep inside of me ... There's someone else I've got to be ... Take back your picture in a frame ... Take back your singing in the rain ... I just hope you understand Sometimes the clothes do not make the man.

After Wham, they wanted him to continue making those same pop songs and he was saying, no that's not me anymore. I want to grow as an artist. I want to be able to explore and try new things with my music.

But the biggest revelation for me was in his personal life. I had no idea that he found his one true love -- Anselmo -- and that he lost him after just six months to AIDS, and pined for him for the rest of his life despite being in a long-term relationship years later. And then a few years later his mother -- the main rock in his life -- died. So he lost the two people who mattered to him more than anyone. And it broke him. He says in the documentary that he didn't write for almost six years. I can understand why.

But then, also, during that difficult time, he had to keep the fact that he was gay hidden -- from the public, but also from his family. So while he was grieving for his soulmate, he couldn't even grieve openly or publicly.

Then when he did finally start writing again, he wrote healing songs. He wrote Jesus to a Child for Anselmo, and later dedicated an entire album to him. But the first time I heard Jesus to a Child was in the documentary and it broke me. I cried, and I cried the next 5 times I heard it. Tears are welling up in my eyes right now just writing about it.

Kindness in your eyes ... I guess you heard me cry ... you smiled at me, like Jesus to a child. ... And what have I learned from all this pain ... I thought I'd never feel the same about anyone or anything again ... but now I know, when you find love ... when you know that it exists ... then the lover that you miss ... will come to you on those cold nights ... when you've been loved ... when you know it holds such bliss ... then the lover that you missed ... will comfort you when there's no hope in sight. 

So now I understand how he could die of natural causes at such a young age (53). Yes, he suffered from drug issues for a while, but I know that's not what killed him. He died of a broken heart. And God took pity on him because his suffering never ceased and said come my child, I will take your pain away. Come reunite with the ones you loved who left you.

And it makes me realize that while his death is painful for those of us left behind (still crying), I know it is the best thing to happen to him because he's with the two people who mattered to him more than anything, and now they can never be taken away from him again.

It hurts, but I'm a better person for it. And I will cherish his music in completely new ways now, and I will discovered songs he wrote that I never knew existed. So thank you Showtime for the gift of learning about George's life and music, and thank you George for the wonderful musical gifts you gave us.

Here's where a person would normally say, 'rest in peace'. But I don't think that suits him. To George Michael I would say have fun up there, and be happy.

If you like to read fiction, please check out my novel, In Fashion's Web on Amazon.

The Best Way to Overcome Melting Glaciers and Rising Water is Desalination

Our oceans are rising. Our pure water is shrinking. So why wouldn't we focus some serious energy on perfecting salt water desalination?

We shouldn't be wasting our reservoir water for our toilets and lawns and gardens. If we perfected salt water desalination all over the world, at least to use for non-potable areas, not only would we have more water sources in areas where there are a lack of water sources, but droughts would become a thing of the past.

Also, during flooding and hurricane season, we should have more water towers and tanker trucks that can collect thousands of gallons of water all over the south and then this water should be trucked to the west coast to help put out the wild fires. And if we had water desalination plants, they could be easily refilled over and over again.

We have more water than we can use, both in the oceans and on land, and we're not taking control of it. Meanwhile, fires are being left to burn out because we don't have enough water or other solutions to contain them.

Why don't we use all this water to our advantage instead of letting it control us?

If you like to read fiction, check out my novel, In Fashion's Web on Amazon.

My Favorite Halloween Costume Ever (of My Own Costumes)

Once I was invited to a Halloween party. I was told the theme was superheroes and that everyone had to come dressed as a superhero. Now you didn't have to be one of the traditional ones. You could make one up and be anything you wanted to be as long as you were a superhero. 

So it was getting close to the weekend of the party and I still hadn't come up with an idea. So I closed my eyes and put my fingertips to my temples and said, think, Lynn, who are you? Be who you are. What type of superhero would represent the inner you? 

So I immediately came up with the idea of "Super Editor". I was (and still am) an editor, so I thought, why not Super Editor? The first thing I did was made my costume look like one big red pen. You know, editors edit in red pen so I was, virtually, a red pen. I took a piece of red construction paper and twisted it into a cone with a wide bottom and a point at the top and put it on my head. 

Then I had a big red t-shirt and black leggings. On the front of the t-shirt I drew a 'delete' symbol with a black marker. A delete symbol is kind of like a curl in the middle with a straight end on the top and bottom. And my slogan was "I delete crime", so I wrote that on the back of the shirt. 

Then I took a broomstick, took the broom off the top, and made a delete symbol out of red felt and glued it to the top of the stick. Then all night long I walked up to people, stuck out my staff and said, "I delete you!!" It was so corny it was super-fun. 

If only I could delete crime with a simple delete symbol, right? Anyway, if you're looking for a Halloween costume, perhaps create something that truly represents you, like I did. 

Happy Halloween!

If you like to read fiction, check out my novel, In Fashion's Web on Amazon.

The Day My Boss's Wife Sent me to Go Pick up Her Pot

I was 19 years old and working as the executive secretary to the president of a small, family-run HVAC (heating, ventilating and air conditioning) contractor on the west side of Stamford. 

The company was building a kind of co-op city in Tehran, Iran. This was before the Iranian hostage crisis.

My boss, the president, had been in Tehran for 3 months and was expected to arrive home over the weekend.

On Friday morning, his wife calls. She asks me to pick up a package for her that was coming in from her father-in-law's Brooklyn office at a construction site in New Rochelle. Since it was a small company, it was very common for me to make deliveries for them. I drove into New York City about once a month to deliver paychecks and other packages to construction sites, so the request wasn't unusual.

So she gives me the directions and tells me who to see. Now one of the Stamford employees had previously told me that the boss smoked pot and that they got it from this guy who worked in the Brooklyn office. So right away I'm thinking, a special reunion weekend for the hubby and wifey? Hmmm.

Of course, I didn't say anything. I went down to the construction site as was requested and I was handed a plain yellow envelope. So plain it was ominous. And this envelope was covered in more tape than an entire hockey team's ankles. That, of course, only strengthened my suspicions.

So I exited the construction site and drove down about two blocks, making sure I wasn't visible from the site, and pulled over. My curiosity was killing me. I just had to know. So I looked the envelope over front to back, trying to find the best corner of the tape that I could gently peel back without ripping it. I very carefully removed it, and had to remove a couple more pieces before I could get the envelope open. Thankfully, there were no rips.

Finally, I opened the envelope and there it was: an ounce of pot rolled up in a baggy. I smelled it for a moment and of course took a bud for myself (delivery fee?) before sealing it back up. My boss and his wife were none the wiser. They never knew that I knew.

Just one of those funny little memories in life that you look back on and laugh!

Please check out my novel, In Fashion's Web on Amazon.

Four Ways We Should Be Maximizing Our Planet's Resources Right Now

The sun is free and there's plenty of it. So why wouldn't we take advantage of it?

In the summer, there are always power surges from all the air conditioners on at the same time, and some communities even organize rolling brownouts to make sure there is enough electricity for everyone.

So here's a way to make sure we always have enough electricity, and that we're not paying an arm and a leg for it either: every electric company building should have a solar farm on its roof. And every piece of property owned by any electric company should have solar panels on it.

Of course, not every part of the country gets the same amount of sunshine. But why not take advantage of the sunshine we do get? It's not like we're going to use it all up.

If they do that, solar energy would become so advanced and the price would become so affordable that more and more homes would be able to incorporate solar panels on their roofs as well.

Tesla Solar is even making roofs out of solar material. That's the way to go with every house. I hope I live long enough to see a day when every roof is made of solar material and actually serves as an energy producer, relieving our dependence on the energy grid.

That's my first idea. My second idea is this about water. Think about all the purified water that is sold today. Millions of bottles a year. Eventually -- and probably in the not too distant future -- we're going to run out of fresh water! We need to do two things and do them well.

1) We need to start collecting rainwater in a more strategic way. That means the plumbing systems for every building and home should have an automatic rain collection system that sends filtered rainwater to nonpotable sources -- such as in toilets, and for watering lawns and gardens, so that it becomes a process that residents aren't required to proactively manage. This way, there's 100% buy-in instead, of, say, 20% buy-in.

2) We need to put some serious energy into learning how to desalinate salt water. If we could do this well and do it all around the coastline, we would virtually eliminate droughts. Then we could teach other countries to do it too. Or maybe other countries are already doing it better and we should be looking to them for lessons in doing this well.

My third idea is converting all landfills to energy. In 2010, Americans made 250 million short tons of trash, according to Wikipedia. That's just one year! It would be great if we cultivated all the methane gas that emanates from decomposing landfills and used it to create energy. Good news: we're actually doing a lot of that now, according to Forbes. But I'd also like to see us get better at burning garbage and turning all that elimination into energy as well. I think it would great if, someday, we were so good as recycling our waste that there was no such thing as a landfill.

Finally, my fourth idea is complete commercial and government commitment. I think reuse, recycling and composting should be big business. I would love to see the top 10 on the Fortune 500 include the number one recycling company in the country. And it would be great if the recycling industry was so large and so well run that it was a top 10 job producer in America.

There are pockets of these ideas everywhere. I think it would be great if these ideas simply became the way the country -- and the planet -- were run.

Please check out my novel, In Fashion's Web on Amazon.

The Right Way to Accept Refugees, in my Opinion

According to the Hartford Institute, there are approximately 350,000 religious congregations in the United States. What if, say 10% of these -- that would be 35,000 -- each sponsored one refugee family?

Suppose it would work like this. Each religious institution and its congregation would be responsible for adopting one family. They would find that family a place to live in their community. Church donations would help with the first month's rent and the security. They would help the parents write resumes and find jobs, show them how to get around the neighborhood, teach them English, help them enroll the children in school, show them where the grocery store is, teach them about American culture, give them names and phone numbers of doctors, and basically be there for them every step of the way for a year or more.

If just 10% of all the congregations in the whole United States did this, that would be 35,000 refugees. These people would become easily and well integrated into society without the need for state or federal funding.

They would be spread out in communities all across America rather than in one community or one state. They would not live off of American taxpayer dollars and at the rate of, say, two per neighborhood or even one family per town/city, they wouldn't be taking jobs away from existing Americans.

Does this kind of plan make sense to anyone other me? It's sort of like the expression "it takes a village". Well maybe it really does take a village.

Some people get really upset when there is talk about tens of thousands of refugees being taken in by the United States. I get it. I understand their concerns. But if we did it in a way where we didn't just throw open the doors and said here you go! Knock yourself out! And leave them to their own devices with no help and no support -- if we integrated them into society one family at a time, and gave each individual family the help they needed through volunteers, wouldn't we all -- not just the refugees, but everyone -- be in a better place?

Please check out my novel, In Fashion's Web on Amazon.

With Today's Traffic Levels, All Left Hand Turns Should Have a Turning Arrow

No matter where you live or work today, traffic is a problem. A big problem.

And one of the biggest problems with traffic is trying to make a left hand turn. There's nothing more frustrating than sitting at a light and watching all the traffic go by while the light goes from green to yellow to red, and you didn't move.

There's a simple solution, and frankly, I can't believe that city traffic managers and mayors haven't already realized this: Every light where there is a left hand turn should have a turning arrow.

Ironically, left hand turning arrows are not as common as you might think. If every city made them standard procedure for every left turn, then traffic would flow more smoothly and stress levels among people everywhere would be reduced.

This is not a joke. I am not kidding. In the town where I work, it's a chronic problem. I hope that all city traffic managers are listening and will do something about this annoying situation.

Thank you.

Please check out my novel, In Fashion's Web on Amazon.

"A Woman of Substance" is a Book of Substance: A Great Read

A Woman of Substance is the best book I have read in years and I highly recommend it to any woman who loves a great love story. Barbara Taylor Bradford's epic tome kept me on the edge of my seat for all 868 pages.

For the first few chapters, I will admit I was a little bored. But the quote on the front cover kept drawing me back: "A might saga. Little has been so riveting since Gone with the Wind." Eventually, my curiosity got the better of me and I was glad it did. 

A Woman of Substance is the story of Emma Harte, a poor maid in 1904 England who rises up above her station to become one of the wealthiest women in Great Britain. Her determination and perseverance are intoxicating, as are the men in her life. 

Barbara Taylor Bradford is masterful at love scenes, and as a Brit herself, she certainly knows her British history. I loved the accents and smiled at the sweet endearments such as when Blackie said "mavourneen" or Frankie said "our Em". 

One thing that makes a good book is when it leaves you wanting more. I found myself questioning throughout, what if she had married so and so? Her life would have been so different. 

In addition to love, heartache, determination, success, pain, romance, etc., the book has a strong element of revenge in it, and I happen to love revenge stories!

I don't want to give away any of the best parts so I'll leave it there. But please make A Woman of Substance your next book today. Trust me, you won't want to put it down.

Please check out my novel, In Fashion's Web on Amazon.

Hail Mary: It's Nice Having a Woman to Pray to Sometimes

Catholics pray to Mary, the mother of Jesus. Not all Christians do. I'm Methodist now and Mary is nowhere to be found in the Methodist church except in the Bible. 

But growing up, I liked having a woman to pray to in addition to God. Sometimes there were things that I felt a woman would be more compassionate about. Sometimes I just felt she understood.

I remember when I first learned how to say the prayer, Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of my death, Amen. 

My mother taught me the Hail Mary when I was six or seven years old. It was evening, and she was down on her hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor. I don't know why she didn't just use a mop, but my mother was a perfectionist when it came to cleanliness. 

So here I was standing in the doorway between the dining room and the kitchen. I wasn't allowed to step on the kitchen floor. So as she crawled around with wet rag in hand, she would recite a line, and I would repeat, and we did this over and over until I got the whole prayer down. 

To this day, every time I recite the Hail Mary, or even think about it, I think about my mom down on her knees scrubbing the kitchen floor and me trying to be careful not to cross over the line and step on her wet floor. I can picture it clear as day, as if it was yesterday.

Since my mom is gone now, I cherish memories like these. And since Mary is a mom too, I know she understands my sense of loss. Sometimes, it's just nice to have a woman to pray to.

Please check out my novel, In Fashion's Web on Amazon.