My Menopausal Musings

We the people of the United States of America seem to have lost our way.   While it is true we stand far apart on the issues that face our troubled nation, what I find troubling is our inability to have an open dialogue about what is most important. It is not the first time in our history the people have been at odds, nor is it the last, but I am finding the recent loss of civility to be distressing. For those of you who don’t know me well, or at all, I am a typical baby boomer. An odd combination of Janis Joplin, The Monkees and Stevie Wonder form the soundtrack of my early years. The Vietnam War, civil rights, space travel and Andy Griffith helped shape me. My father was a career military man, a proud NCO in the US Air Force, and I was raised on domestic military installations.   I always stand for our National Anthem and am appalled by those who cheer at ball games before the song is over. I cringe at tattered flags flapping...

I was excited to see The Irishman and his daughter this weekend. To my surprise, he came over alone on Friday evening and called it quits. Despite my own fears and doubts, I confess I didn’t see it coming. “I just can’t,” he said. As it turns out, The Irishman’s steamer trunk is filled with rocks and is sinking fast. He is too overwhelmed to be in a relationship at the moment, so he wants to be my friend. What is our ‘relationship’? I was waiting to talk about it, to give it a name we both felt comfortable with; he had already named it, become overwhelmed and needed to rename it. I didn’t know it, but I had been dubbed ‘girlfriend’. His friends knew. He told his sister. He had even told his mother! No wonder his mother was eager to meet me during her short visit from Ireland last week. The Irishman brought his sister and mother over for tea. I made sure the house was sparkling and baked a picture-perfect apple pie. I loved meeting them and had a fabulous time. Before ...

I am a news junkie. Despite my 'lefty' leanings, I try to hear all sides, whether I like them or not. I find myself watching hours of coverage trying to distill the real news of the day. CNN, Fox, MSNBC, ABC, NBC, CBS... The list goes on and on. Not so long ago, network anchors were a trusted and respected source for news. That no longer seems to be the case, and with today’s news the line between the truth and the almighty dollar seems to have completely vanished. This summer Rupert Murdoch’s News Corporation donated a million dollars to the Republican Governors Association. Randi Rittenberg, a well-respected analyst and reporter, published the following report today on the impact of corporate donations to political parties. Now this is an example of fair and balanced reporting. You can bet your life on it. Rupert Murdoch, who has never been shy about making his political views known, has voted with his sizable checkbook. Murdoch's News Corp. has made a $1 million...

Last year, after a very long absence, the Real Scientist was back in touch. Spurred on by the release of my book and hearing me on the radio, he called and asked me out to lunch. I hadn’t heard from him in ages, but was delighted. We met at a bistro in Hell’s Kitchen and had a lovely time. Neither of us was at a loss for words. I confessed that he had a chapter in my book, and happily the conversation continued rather than coming to an abrupt end. Our date was followed by several lengthy phone conversations. We made plans to meet again and he sent me a charming birthday e-card. I was beginning to believe that there was real chemistry with the Real Scientist. During our date he had alluded to health issues, and in one phone conversation he discussed his surgery although he never disclosed what the issue really was. We continued to make plans and then suddenly he disappeared. There were no more calls. There were no more e-mails. Typically responsive, the Real Scientist seeme...

I often find myself sitting on the subway holding my book, not really reading, but watching what everyone is up to around me. Today I hoped no one was watching me. I left my office around four-thirty scurrying like a rat to get to my five o’clock appointment. I was busy today, but not so busy I couldn’t have left a few minutes earlier. There was no reason for me to be flying down the street grousing at the people who weren’t walking quite as fast as I was on my way to the subway. I ran down the stairs and slid my MetroCard through the turnstile just as the uptown 1 Train pulled into the station. The train was crowded, but I managed to get a seat. I should have been embarrassed as I rolled my eyes because the woman next to me took up a little more space than the plastic molded seats allowed. At the 96th Street station a tired-looking woman entered my subway car. She was probably ten years younger than I and looked five years older. Her expression was flat; the look of a woman ...