Ice, Ice, Baby

By Mary Anna Violi |@MaryAnnaVioli

  It will be 4 weeks ago this Tuesday, February 19, that I slipped on an ice slick in front of a local CVS Pharmacy. While I thought I could pick myself up, I found that all I could do was spin in circles; the ice was so widespread across the front of the pharmacy. Fortunately, an elementary school teacher and her adolescent daughter came to my rescue. The three of us shuffled carefully across the sidewalk to enter the store.

   There were several positives in the aftermath: I didn’t hit my head on the concrete, nor did I break any bones. My doctor did tell me, after a thorough examination of my injuries, that I would have large contusions. She was right; I did. Major black and blues appeared with 24 hours or so, as did the swelling in my right hand in the fleshy part, and in my right thumb. Basically, from my right shoulder on down past my knee I resemble a yellow and bright purple tie-dye.

   I must give credit to Kate Spade: as I was flying up in the air, thanks to the ice slick, I landed on my sturdy leather Kate Spade bag. My layered clothing and black faux fur lined leather jacket helped out too, as did my Heat gloves. Since my new pale green jeans suffered no tears in the fall, I felt slightly less hostile about the event. However, I was indignant that CVS hadn’t salted its entire front entrance. “We can’t keep up with the salting,” I was informed. “You had damn well better keep up with it,” I fumed. Later that night I learned that Car accidents abounded too. The ER’s at both of the big hospitals were filled with people who had been injured on that Tuesday’s ice. 

   The next morning, my entire right side ached. Aleve helped, but I’m right handed. I couldn’t write, type, or lift anything! To say this was a humbling experience is an understatement. Fastening my jeans pained my right hand to the limit, boohoo, poor me.

Whenever I pick up medicine, I use the CVS drive through. The day of the freezing rain, CVS had placed a large sign on the drive through stating that the drive through was closed, and that patrons must enter the pharmacy. Had I not needed to take the medication that very evening, I would have postponed picking it up.

   In the immortal words of Annie Hall, “La-dee-da, la-dee-da”! I’m on the mend and more mindful of ice, baby.

   Ciao for now.

Dark Shadows

Roses with notes
The flowers may die, but the music lives on. -www.tangledpasta.net

By Mary Anna Violi | @MaryAnnaVioli

Inexplicable sadness swept over me when I read last week about the deaths of Kate Spade and of Anthony Bourdain. Both high profile and talented, they influenced millions of us: Spade with her handbags and fashion sense; Bourdain with his perspective on food that brings people together. Both left young daughters behind when they need their parents most on the threshold of adolescence. Perhaps Spade and Bourdain’s pain was so immense that they did not see their suicides as abandonment, rather as a means of silencing the torture in their own minds. Their demons must have chased them down a black hole from which their strength to resist had been depleted. And therein lies another tragedy: Those who are dead are dead; it is the living who must find the ways and means of coping, continuing to live long after the deceased have gone.

Suicide is an equal opportunity means of ending life. It cuts across socio-economic groups and ethnicities. Yet it is a peculiar means of leaving that is on the rise in the United States. Benedict Carey wrote in his article, How Suicide Quietly Morphed Into a Public Health Crisis, in The New York Timeson June 8, 2018:

“The rise of suicide turns a dark mirror on modern American society: its racing, fractured culture; its flimsy mental health system; and the desperation of so many individual souls, hidden behind the waves of smiling social media photos and cute emoticons.”

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/06/08/health/suicide-spade-bordain-cdc.html?&hp&action=click&pgtype=Homepage&clickSource=story-heading&module=second-column-region&region=top-news&WT.nav=top-news

One of the key phrases in Carey’s article is American society…its flimsy mental health system. I recall when I worked in the 1980’s full time at a Texas university that my healthcare coverage included only so many visits to a therapist, should I need one. I was offended then, and I am even more offended now that mental health care is still grossly underfunded in the U.S. The government and insurance companies seem to believe mental health care coverage should be limited when the opposite is true.

For some years now, my daughter and her cousin have liked Kate Spade designs; they even have several of her handbags and jewelry. Kate Spade designs exude a happy-go-lucky aesthete coupled with practicality. Several years ago, I bought my daughter a Kate Spade pencil case. The design was so clever that I could not resist a pencil case with a lined penmanship motif. Bright colors, cheerful scripts, and overall originality apparently belied the dark musings that lurked behind Kate Spade’s whimsical designs. She brought us so much joy with her designs over the years that I wish it could have empowered her to banish her depression. Alas, neither her fans, nor her family or friends could save her from herself.

Anthony Bourdain’s brash, no-holds-barred approach to food breathed fresh air into previously snobbish attitudes towards food truck street food. His landmark book Kitchen Confidentialblew the lid off food and restaurant respectability. His CNN show Anthony Bourdain:Parts Unknown mesmerized me. I particularly liked the episode “Quebec” where he traveled with two Quebecoise chefs who introduced him to beaver meat topped with shaved black truffles. The exotic Tangiers, Morocco episode made me wish my own town included a Moroccan eatery. Bourdain even took us to Libya where the people cook, eat, and continue to celebrate their freedom after years of an oppressive regime. I always feel like I am there with Anthony Bourdain as he and his crew roam the narrow streets and back alleys of a town with a local or two leading them to a fabulous meal behind a scruffy building façade. His talent for bringing us along for his street food ride has been pure pleasure. We feel like we have gotten to know the people with whom he talks as he eats with them. Sadly, we could not save him either.

Those of us, who did not personally know Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain, only saw them through the prism of social media, from the magazine stands, and from television. Moments captured on red carpets are what we saw; we did not share in their private lives. Hopefully, they are now at peace, watching over their loved ones who hold them in their hearts.

If you are having thoughts of suicide, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-

800-273-8255 (TALK) or go to SpeakingOfSuicide.com/resources for a list of additional resources. Here’s what you can do when a loved one is severely depressed.

Ciao for now.

 

 

 

Wedding Weekend, Part 2: The Rehearsal

 

Wedding preparations - tangledpasta.net
Wedding preparations – tangledpasta.net

By Mary Anna Violi | @Mary Anna Violi

We awakened last Friday morning, checked our lightly bronzed selves, showered carefully, preened, and drove northwest from Indianapolis to Zionsville for the bridal luncheon.  Partaking of a delectable salad accompanied by intriguing and tasty appetizers, we dashed off to a salon for a manicure.  We had our pedicure at our salon back home.  I am still uncertain why I bothered with a pedicure since I was wearing close-toed shoes for The Nuptials.

Beating a hasty retreat to Indianapolis, we donned our new Talbots dresses [my daughter’s a black lace confection, and mine, a vivid white and turquoise floral] and new pumps [nude] for the rehearsal at Saint Mary’s Catholic Church downtown.  The church is a large Roman Gothic structure replete with elegant stained glass windows, inlaid terrazza marble floor, vaulted ceilings, and a breathtaking Sacristy.  In short, Saint Mary’s was the perfect place for the Big Event.  Anxiety was evident among the bridal party as they practiced walking up the aisle.  Some moved at a breakneck pace, while others strolled regally.  As one of two readers, I practiced the long walk from a carved wooden pew, and up the highly polished steps to the lectern.  After familiarizing myself with the mocha satin ribbon marking my reading passage, I realized I would have to adjust the microphone on The Day since the first reader was quite a bit taller than I.

We then piled into cars and sped off to Lorenzo’s Ristorante, where the groom’s parents were hosting the rehearsal dinner for the bridal party.  It was a memorable repast with family and friends, not to mention mouth-watering Calamari Fritti, Bruschetta, Chicken Marsala, and bottomless glasses of vino.  Justin the Groom-to-Be made touching speeches about each of his groomsmen, giving each of them gifts [tasteful barware and coffee table books].  Lauren followed with heartfelt sketches of what each of her bridesmaids meant to her.  She then distributed gifts of elegant Kate Spade jewelry to each.  The groom’s father created a poignant slideshow of Lauren and Justin’s babyhood to adulthood.  Seeing my late parents smiling and laughing with Lauren, and later with her brother and my daughter, brought a tear to my eye.

It was a night of joy and laughter that boded well for tomorrow’s Main Event.

Ciao for now.