Thursday, October 13, 2011

Grooming Gone Too Far

                                                                                                Julie Kemp Pick



Megan Barnes  (WFOR/Monroe County Sheriff's Office )
                                                                                                      
                                                  
Did you hear the one about the woman who caused a car accident, because she was shaving her privates while she was driving? This really happened in Florida last year when Megan Barnes was getting ready for a date with another man. Author Celia Rivenbark wrote, " There are so many "You might be a redneck if'" elements to the story, but my favorite is that, while performing this extremely personal grooming ritual, she asked her EX HUSBAND to steer the car so she could concentrate."
                                                        
Her ex also moved into the driver's seat when the police arrived to try to take the blame, but he had burn marks from the impact of the passenger side airbag. The Highway Patrol noted that just one day earlier Ms. Barnes had been convicted of DUI and driving with a suspended license. Ms. Rivenbark added, "Oh, and her car had been seized and had no insurance or registration. Oh, and she was on probation. Oh, and SHE'S A FLIPPIN' LUNATIC! Albeit an impeccably groomed one."

Since this article was originally written in March of 2010, I tried to find out what happened to Megan Barnes, and her loyal to a fault ex husband. I wondered if  she ever made it to her very important date, and what became of the pickup truck that she plowed into from behind.

Unfortunately, the only lead I found was on a Facebook page entitled, "Megan Mariah Barnes should not have to spend a single day in jail and." The only message posted had absolutely nothing to do with the subject, and left me dangling along with the word "and."

None of the 2010 reports that I read mentioned that she was shaving under the influence, so I do feel that she had one leg up on the dashboard, I mean case. It never mentioned where her parents were during the incident, and if they ever advised the 37 year old  to remember skirt down, buckle up when operating a vehicle.

This is an important lesson for all of us. As parents it is our job to leave no stone unturned. With  electronic media virtually raising our children, each day there are more incidents illustrating how common sense is becomming obsolete. With everyone rushing to make a good impression, more accidents are bound to occur. Cars may soon have built-in metal detectors, so that ignitions will not start if a razor, scissors, or tweezers enter the vehicle. As manscaping is on the rise, sons are not immune to this impulse.

The next time you tuck your children in at night, hold them close and whisper quietly in their ear. That way they'll think they learned the hazards of shaving while driving in a dream, and you'll be able to make eye contact again.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Insecure Writer's Support Group: Wise Revisions




                                                                   

Thanks to  Alex J. Cavanaugh for hosting the second meeting of the minds. Alex began The Insecure Writer's Support Group as a forum for bloggers and authors to voice their concerns; while offering solutions, as well as lending support. Be sure to visit the vast array of talented members.


Wise Revisions 

Writing helps connect the dots,
That open worlds of wonder.
Reading in between the lines,
Turn clear skies into thunder.

Waiting for the inspiration,
Sequestered in a silent rage.
Staring at an empty screen,
Wishing words upon the page.

Suddenly the switch turns on,
While ideas churn like butter.
At last the curse is lifted,
As butterflies converge to flutter.

Plagued by second thoughts,
Weary of a cool reception.
Any hopes of turning heads,
Are fueled by misconceptions.

Regrets I have many,
Nervous twitches I have but few.
If only I had begun at twenty,
Should haves adhere to me like glue.

The phone rings, changing tones,
There's talk of staging a tour.
My hair, my shoes, what will I say?
Thank goodness, I'm not insecure. 

-Julie Kemp Pick

Monday, October 3, 2011

From The Western Mediterranean To My Mother-In-Law's

                                                                               
                                                                                                Julie Kemp Pick


Before our younger son was born, my in-laws moved to Israel to be close to my mother-in-law's family. My delightful father-in-law who always had a smile on his face despite having his whole world torn out from under him during the Holocaust, died less than a year later.  This was more than twenty years ago, and though my husband has taken my boys, I had never gone with them.

My first visit was a year after I graduated from college, as part of a tour group. I was the youngest person in the group, and my mother was the second youngest. One of the highlights was climbing Masada arm in arm with a rambunctious 80 year old fellow traveler.

After we drove our son to college, my husband asked me if I would go with him to see his mother. I told him that I would like to stop off somewhere along the way to break up the 14 hour flight from Chicago. He said to do some research, and added that he wanted to leave as soon as possible. When I told a friend that I was having trouble choosing between Italy, France, and Spain, she suggested that I book a cruise. Because the trip was only a few weeks away, I was able to find an exceptional deal on a cruise to Rome, Genoa, Cannes, Corsica and Barcelona. The ship returned to Rome and from there we were scheduled to fly to Tel Aviv. I was thrilled, my husband was thrilled, and my mother-in-law didn't complain, so all was well.

The ship departed from Rome, so we went off on a tour straight from the airport. We saw the Colosseum, The Spanish Steps, and St. Peter's in Vatican City. We dined on world famous gelato and threw coins into the Trevi Fountain where Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck once stood. We covered a lot of the Eternal City in a few hours, and then we were off to the ship.

The next day, we accidentally walked up to the house where  Columbus was born in Genoa on our own leisurely tour. The rooms were very tiny, and a model of the Santa Maria was encased on one of the shelves. Another highlight was seeing Napoleon's home in Corsica. The Corsicans that we encountered were not very receptive to our restroom requests, so I found myself sneaking into a restaurant. The hostess followed me in and shouted in a thick French accent, "You didn't ask permission!" Then I retorted with, "Emergency, emergency!" She got the message, and walked out. I always had a gift with languages.

We loved being able to relax in the comfort of the ship where the food was tasty and plentiful, everyone spoke English, and the entertainment even included an ice show. The last stop was in Barcelona. We went on a whirlwind tour of several churches, and The Picasso Museum. We even saw  Gaudi's unfinished church, La Sagrada Familia that has been overseen by several architects beginning in 1882 and nears completion in 2026. We concluded with our own walking tour that lasted until nightfall. Like Italy, I wish we had had more time in Spain, but I was grateful for the time spent, and now we had to get ready for Israel.

My husband's cousins were kind enough to meet us at the Tel Aviv Airport, and loan us their car complete with a navigation system so we wouldn't get lost driving to Jerusalem. The only problem was that it was set up in Hebrew. After we eventually found our hotel, we climbed up the 100 steps leading to his mother's apartment.

She lives in a religious neighborhood where we looked as out of place had we been in Amish Country. The men wore black hats and long black coats, and the women wore head coverings or wigs, and long skirts. Occasionally, we would catch a glimpse of a wrist or an ankle. On Shabbat, children played in the street, and adults walked freely with no cars in sight. I thought about all the kids in our neighborhood who would stay inside playing video games on beautiful days, while these children were finding creative ways to pass the hours until sundown.

At 87,  Mrs. Pick speaks Hebrew, Russian, Yiddish, and English. She has a wonderful caregiver who was also born in Russia, and doesn't speak English; yet after a few days we were able to communicate. His aunt lives down the hall, and has two children, and fifteen great grandchildren. We spent a lot of time eating between the two apartments, and went on short walks around the neighborhood, where his mother led the way.

Aside from a visit to the Western Wall, where I struggled to get us through the crowd, while her 70 year old caregiver plowed right in, we didn't spend much time sightseeing, as his mother got car sick. Instead, we had a few excursions to the walker store before taking it for a test drive.

On our last day, his cousins invited us to dinner in Tel Aviv. There we were reunited with family we hadn't seen in years, and introduced to some of their children for the first time. Everyone was warm and inviting. All of his aunt's 15 great grandchildren were there, and I couldn't believe how well behaved they were. Though many of the children don't speak English, our boys managed to communicate with them years ago, through sports and other games. I thought about the four of us  returning before they think they're too old to travel with us. Then I commented on how nice it is to have so many close relatives, and our cousin replied, "They're your family too."

There is so much history along with so many wondrous sights to see in Israel, but this trip was about family. We were both happy that his mother is doing so well thanks to her devoted caregiver and loving family. She was very appreciative that we came to visit, and any ill feelings that we had toward each other were wiped away. I don't know if my mother-in-law will ever think that I'm truly good enough for her son, or good enough for now.






                                                                                  
1) Colosseum in Rome
2) Columbus Home in Genoa
3) Picasso Museum in Barcelona
4) Western Wall in Jerusalem (Mrs. Pick is in the middle)
5) With our cousins in Tel Aviv                                 
                                                                  

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

The Guiding Light Before The Flight

                                                                                                 Julie Kemp Pick


Sometimes the events leading up to a vacation prove to be almost as eventful as the vacation itself. This happened a few times late in August when we were planning a Western Mediterranean Cruise on the way to visiting my mother-in-law in Israel.

Twelve days before we were scheduled to leave, my husband injured his knee when he fell off of his bicycle. He managed to ride home from the scene of the accident, but grew progressively worse by evening. The following Sunday morning, his knee was so swollen that he couldn't walk, so I gave him my son's crutches and we headed off to the emergency room.

I thought we would have to cancel our trip, but he was determined to go. After wearing an immobilizer, having his knee drained, an MRI  and two physical therapy sessions, the orthopedist agreed. Miraculously, my husband lost his limp, while I was losing my mind. What if he had a relapse in a foreign country, and I had to try to find a hospital while I was carrying him on my back, and fighting off pickpockets?  Everyone told us to be aware of them, but they must have been staying inside from the heat. My man of steel assured me that he would be fine, as I was racing to get everything we needed in less than a week.

The day before our flight to Rome, I had an appointment for a manicure and pedicure.  On August 31, the sun was shining and the temperature was in the 80's.  So it didn't make sense that the entire block of stores and restaurants were experiencing a power failure. What really presented a problem was that my beaded flip flops were at the shoe repair  a few doors down from the nail salon, and it was located in a dungeon like basement. These are the only flip flops that my delicate circus feet could tolerate, and I needed them both for my pedicure and my trip.

On the main level of the shoe repair is a Mexican restaurant. I asked them if I could borrow a flashlight to take to the basement in the hope that the shoemaker was still there. One of the men grabbed a flashlight and said that he would go along with me. It was pitch black in the basement, but my trusted guide led the way.  I called out to Mr. K to make sure that  he was down the hall, but no one answered. My guide helped me down the stairs and we proceeded on. At one point I thought about how easily it would have been to beat me bloody with the flashlight, and abscond with $35 and a box of Mentos, but I had to risk it all to get my flip flops from Marshalls back.

When we reached the end of the hallway, Mr. K jumped out from behind the counter, and shone his flashlight on us. I pulled my ticket out and he handed me my shoes. No words were exchanged and he went back to working in complete darkness. Sadly, he must have been used to hiding during wartime.
After my companion guided me to safety, I thanked him and went off to my appointment.

When the power returned, I went back to see my new friend at the restaurant. I still had errands to run so I asked him if he could make me a virgin strawberry daiquiri to go. I thought about getting him a present, but decided to give him a little extra for his tip instead. I thanked him again, and he politely smiled. Suddenly, I was transformed into Blanche DuBois, and I understood when she said, "I have always depended on the kindness of strangers." Oh well, it was time to go home to my Stanley Kowalski and finish packing.

Monday, September 19, 2011

Sneak Peek Packs Heat



When  Alex J. Cavanaugh  first came up with this idea, I thought that I would have no trouble creating a list. That was over a month ago, and now I feel like a student cramming for final exams. Though I love movies, I can't seem to remember very much about the ones that I disliked the most. The truth is, I could sit through pretty much anything if the popcorn is good.

My first job was at a concession stand at a movie theater when I was 15. My best friend was working as a cashier, and called me to come in for an interview. I said that I was 16, and after the manager asked me a few quick math problems, I was hired on the spot. The theater was packed as the Jeff Bridges and Jessica Lange version of King Kong had just come out for Christmas.

These were the days before calculators when you had to add up all the prices in your head, but I still managed to shovel in plenty of popcorn in between customers. Once after working a double shift complete with enough popcorn for lunch and dinner, my favorite usher took me aside to tell me that he could see his reflection in my nose.

After King Kong left the building, we were inundated with one bad movie after another. I can't remember all of the titles, but they were loosely based on classic children's stories with a twist. The first movie that comes to mind is Pinocchio,  but this version was rated X. Yes, the respectable family movie theater decided to try out some X-rated films. Of course my parents didn't mind that I was working there. A paycheck was a paycheck.



Some of the other pornographic fairy tales included Alice In Wonderland where Alice plays an innocent librarian  who meets up with a rabbit, and Goldilocks and The Three Bares.

Unfortunately, I had to remove the Alice and Goldilocks posters.  I wish that I could provide more information about these movies. I just remember the ushers making a special effort to sweep up the theater several times throughout these showings.

 I never actually sat through any of these films, as I was too busy minding the Junior Mints. But I did catch a glimpse of Pinocchio telling a lie, and quickly walked out when I realized his nose wasn't growing.


-Julie Kemp Pick

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

If I Could Be Anyone I'd Be...

                                                                                    



In honor of Talli Roland's book launch, we are to select the celebrity whom we would most like to be. Growing up I wanted to be Barbra Streisand, because she could belt out a song better than anyone else, and still walk away with her handsome leading men.

                                                  


As time went on I noticed I shared a striking resemblance to another celebrity. She was not an Oscar winning singer, songwriter and actress. Instead she was famous for being an infamous home wrecker. Yes Camilla Parker Bowles and I share the same hip hairstyle, are both long in the tooth, and lack pigment. But I draw the line at wearing hats, and I won't give up my comfortable shoes.
                              
    
                                                                                                       
Which brings me to the only celebrity whose shoes I could possibly fill if I bound my feet, Clara Peller. The retired manicurist from Chicago became a star, when she was hired to play the baritone lead in a Wendy's hamburger commercial.
                                    



The octogenarian stole the show by uttering three words, "Where's the beef?" She was a huge success from 1984-1985 until she got fired for bellowing, "I found it!" in a Prego spaghetti sauce commercial. Apparently, the big brass at Wendy's only wanted her to go trolling for beef between their buns. Sadly, Clara died a few years later at 85.

Miss Peller is a shining example of an outstanding third act. As my voice continues to grow deeper and more gravelly there is hope that one day I too could be discovered. Who am I kidding? Maybe I should just wait for James Brolin and Prince Charles to duke it out. 


-Julie Kemp Pick                                                                                        

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Insecure Writer's Unite

 




Alex J. Cavanaugh decided to put together a wonderful support group for writers. Though I am not an experienced writer, I know a thing or two about being insecure. As a matter of fact, I have half a century of knowledge stored up on the subject. This hardly makes me an expert, as I'm still struggling to overcome it. However, it does make me more empathetic to what other people are going through.

I'm excited to hear from other talented writers who are awaiting acceptance of their manuscripts. Many have published a book or two, and still lack the confidence they deserve. Since my first article will soon be published in a local literary art magazine, I'm just getting my feet wet; while many of you are already swimming with sharks.

There is strength in numbers, and Alex has certainly gathered enough people to tell their stories. The blogging community in itself is a support group. Hence, the Insecure Writer's Support Group will form even tighter bonds. I look forward to learning from all of you. For many writers, experience doesn't alleviate anxiety; it just pushes it aside like a bad combover.


    -Julie Kemp Pick