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Posts Tagged ‘celebrities’

It’s enough already! Every day I wake up and wonder if they found that missing Malaysian plane. How can a triple 7 just disappear in this day and age? We have satellites circling the globe, Google maps looking into our windows, radar and cell phones and the latest idea is that this was a “deliberate” act; or maybe it’s somewhere in the Indian Ocean?

So I’m redirecting my thoughts this morning. No CNN, no more Meet the Press. My brain needs a rest from speculation and erudition. I tuned in to CBS Sunday Morning like the Flapper always did, for a taste of feel good news. Happy Iranian hikers are reunited with their families! And then, there was Catherine Deneuve.

Deneuve always reminded me of my sister, Kay. A beautiful woman who was in some ways, burdened by her beauty. The interviewer asked her what it is about French women? She said you mean how they can do or eat anything they want? And he said no, it was more about the flirtatiousness, which was not necessarily the right word IMHO. She smiled coyly and said “No, I hadn’t thought of that.”

French women embody style and mystery. I remember being told when I was younger that even the shop girls will save their money to buy one beautiful thing every year. Something classic, that transcends time and trends. Think of Audrey Hepburn when she returns from Paris in the 1954 movie, Sabrina – not ready to live above the garage anymore with her chauffeur father.

But this week Deneuve, at the ripe old age of 70, is debuting a new movie, “On My Way.” It’s about a woman of a certain age who disappears. Yes, she dumps her family and its restaurant woes after her lover dumps her, and she goes on a road trip. Her character takes up with a younger man; it would seem I like the idea of a woman disappearing! I love her answer to the question of how she ages so gracefully:

You have to try not to fight so hard against time, you know. It’s not that I enjoy it. It is just not that much of a problem. Maybe because I have children and grandchildren, it’s a different rhythm. It’s a different way of looking at things other than yourself. http://www.reuters.com/article/2014/03/12/us-catherinedeneuve-idUSBREA2B0RU20140312

So here’s to that joie de vie, that je n’est sais quoi! To French women everywhere, we salute you. We American Boomers have decided not to age so gracefully. In fact, we like to be disgraceful as much as possible so as not to be invisible. We’d rather not disappear after all. And if you haven’t peeked at Ari Seth Cohen’s blog about NYC women in their 60s, 70s and 80s, here’s your chance. To The Barricades Ladies!

http://advancedstyle.blogspot.com

this is what 65 looks like - sans makeup!

this is what 65 looks like – sans makeup!

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Londoners wouldn't get Woody

Londoners wouldn’t get Woody

Have you been following the Woody Allen pervert/or/not show? I had not, although I’m aware that I no longer flock to the latest Allen movie. There was a time, around Annie Hall, when I loved him. His jokes, his angst, his heroines, especially Diane Keaton. A sister-in-law from MS once told me you had to be from NYC to “get” Woody Allen, and I suspected she was right. For the longest time I would quote him:  “80 percent of life is showing up,” because I truly believe it! And I dressed like Annie Hall, in a sort of androgynous mix of comfy meets funky vests.

But after Allen was given a Cecil B DeMille Award at the Globes and Mia Farrow and kids took to bashing him on Twitter, I found myself wondering again if he did it. He was accused of fondling his adopted daughter Dylan at the age of 7 in an attic. Now we all know he married his other adopted step-daughter Soon-Yi (who was actually Andre Previn’s adopted daughter), which was creepy enough. That was about the time I had seen Mia Farrow at the Big Apple Circus, in the first row right across from me. She was surrounded by so many adopted kids I was reminded of the woman who lived in a shoe, “…she had so many children.”

Maybe because my BFF had been an assistant DA, and she once told me that kids never lie, I was predisposed to believe Mia’s story, even when a judge and many investigators never found any evidence credible enough to bring charges against Allen. That was when I stopped going to his movies. Knowing what I do now about the proximity of the abuse charges to their separation over Soon-Yi, it does seem possible that Mia may have been vindictive enough and possibly “coached” Dylan to say that he touched her. Will we ever know the truth? Finally Allen is speaking out: http://www.theguardian.com/film/2014/feb/08/woody-allen-denies-abuse-allegations

And so is Dylan’s brother, another adopted child, Moses Farrow now 36, now speaking up in defense of Allen. He likened the atmosphere in their home as dysfunctional at best.  “I don’t know if my sister really believes she was molested or is trying to please her mother. Pleasing my mother was very powerful motivation because to be on her wrong side was horrible.” http://www.theguardian.com/film/2014/feb/05/woody-allen-dylan-farrow-moses

Whatever happened over 20 years ago we may never know. But I did happen to watch Blue Jasmine on Netflix recently and it was incredible. Allen takes us back out to overly sunny California with a lapsed heiress, Cate Blanchett, who is exquisite in the role. It is a study in social class and psychology, in love and betrayal. It’s a modern day Streetcar. “Blue Jasmine feels like tragedy without catharsis—an interesting thing to pull off, but not particularly moving or maybe even admirable.” http://www.vanityfair.com/online/daily/2013/07/movie-review-blue-jasmine-woody-allen

It left me feeling strangely sick, and singing Blue Moon for days.

“I feel that life is divided into the horrible and the miserable. That’s the two categories. The horrible are like, I don’t know, terminal cases, you know, and blind people, crippled. I don’t know how they get through life. It’s amazing to me. And the miserable is everyone else. So you should be thankful that you’re miserable, because that’s very lucky, to be miserable.” Annie Hall

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Had a short talk with Bob yesterday about Philip Seymour Hoffman. And we both thought it’s a shame, but not for all the general reasons everyone’s been talking about, like his life and character and talent. Because ever since some 19th Century chemist decided he could change morphine into heroin –  thereby making it much more euphoric, easier to administer, lasting longer and with lower dosages – people have been overdosing on this drug. A drug that is still used medicinally in the UK…because for really sick, terminally ill people, there is literally nothing like it. It is the opiate on steroids! For many years people, I mean ordinary brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, black, white and brown, have been dying for/on heroin for over a century.

What’s different is that now another celebrity has died of addiction. But really, what’s different? A bag of heroin costs about $10 and an oxycodon pill costs $40, so that’s different. PSH had the money to go out and buy a week’s supply of heroin, he didn’t have to perform a sex act on the street to get high, so that’s different.

Doctors are encouraged to “Treat Pain,” nurses have us rank our pain on a scale of 1 to 10, in fact in some states if a doctor or NP doesn’t “treat our pain” he/she can be sued. There are whole buildings being built to deal with pain management in health centers across America. So in the same way we’ve become aware of the dangers over overprescribing antibiotics, doctors need to become more aware of the addictive powers of pain killers. Because for some of us, as Jim Carrey said of PSH: “For the most sensitive among us the noise can be too much.” 

I might say after knee surgery, “That pill makes me feel funny,” so I stop taking it. But the addict, probably 10% of the population, has a part of the brain that recognizes that narcotic in a primal center of their neural cortex, the addict says, “More please.”  Someone I knew well once said, “There are no 50 year old junkies.”

But here is a conversation we need to start in DC. Why not make Naloxone (aka Narcan) available over the counter? This is a miracle drug which can bring a dying, overdosed person back to life, and instead of waiting until an EMT or ER doc is available to administer it, which is often too late, why can’t families and friends of addicts purchase the drug as a nasal spray to keep in their home? Well they can in a program in MA, oh God I love that state! I knew it when they went for McGovern!

The problem has become more urgent: Heroin overdose deaths in the U.S. nearly doubled over the last decade, from 1,725 in 1999 to 3,278 in 2009, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. During the same period, deadly overdoses from opiate-like drugs, including painkillers, have nearly quadrupled, from 4,030 to 15,597. Naloxone works by blocking certain drug receptors in the brain. It has no effect on alcohol or cocaine overdoses but can be used against such painkillers as OxyContin, Percocet and Vicodin. http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/04/26/naloxone-drug-overdose-antidote_n_1456531.html

There was no one with PSH at the time of his overdose, so having Naloxone nearby may not have helped him. But once the rest of the country follows MA’s lead, we may get the chance to save more lives, because I believe recovery is possible. One day at a time. read more: http://healthland.time.com/2012/04/13/naloxone-debate-fda-hears-testimony-about-making-an-overdose-antidote-nonprescription/

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Slut shaming, it’s nothing new. Long before that Rush ‘to judgement’ Limbaugh called Sandra Fluke a “slut” on his radio show, young women everywhere have been objectified and marginalized for ages. Think of the adulterous “A”  sewn onto Hester Prynne’s bodice, now think of the “walk of shame” I first heard about when the kids went off to college. If you haven’t heard about it, ask a twenty something. I remember feeling pained even then, we “Our Bodies Ourselves” feminists burned our bras for what?

Now it’s back with a vengeance – the public humiliation of a young woman for embracing her sex. Yes, I’m talking about 20 year old Miley Cyrus, and isn’t everyone else? The Rocker and Cait first filled me in on the controversy between Miley and Sinead O’Connor last weekend. Odd I thought. One rocker who chopped all her hair off and ripped up a picture of the Pope 2 decades ago vs the Wrecking Ball baby. I missed her stellar performance on SNL, but did catch Miley on Ellen this week, doing her best to explain her fascination with her own tongue (turns out she just hates smiling on the red carpet) and her love of wearing onesies, oh and teddy bears. And this morning I read a great new blogger’s take on the whole shebang, http://fishershannon.wordpress.com/2013/10/06/the-s-word/

The problem with the word “slut” is that we don’t have a male equivalent. It’s like the French don’t have a word for “snack.” It’s because they just don’t do it, no fast food, no eating in the car, no walking down the street with coffee in hand. Nope, the French sit down and savor every single morsel of food and drink. Let’s think for a minute, what if we did have a derogatory term for a man who was enjoying his body and didn’t mind having a little sexual fun with it, no regrets. What would it be? Player, no since this is gender neutral. Manwhore, no since the whole whore part is female specific. Sex addict, maybe. Hmmm, a promiscuous man. “A single young man who sleeps readily with a number of women would probably not have any label attached to his behavior.” http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/fighting-fear/201302/certain-aspects-promiscuity

Slut first appeared in the written language in 1402, according to the Oxford English Dictionary , that great repository of language information. At that time, slut meant roughly what one sense of slattern  means today: a slovenly, untidy woman or girl. It also apparently meant “kitchen maid” (”She is a cheerful slut who keeps the pots scrubbed and the fires hot.”). By the end of the 15th century the sense “a woman given to immoral or improper conduct” had come into use, and it is the only meaning in use today. Interestingly,the same second meaning, a promiscuous woman, developed for the term slattern. dictionary.com

So Miley isn’t writing songs about her old boyfriends who we must presume she’d been intimate with a la Taylor Swift. Taylor, who mostly keeps her clothes on is still rather boy crazy. Miley didn’t fade into the woodwork, like Annette our first Mouseketeer. She twerked her way into America’s pop culture, for better or worse, with her mother in the background signing her checks. And taking a selfie with the signature “tongue and wink” move in this AP pic.Miley Cyrus, Tish Cyrus

My brother Dr Jim, the psychologist, called Ms Miley a master marketing strategist, and I have to agree. So stop feeling sorry for her America, she refuses to be shamed into submission. And let’s drop the word slut from the Oxford English dictionary. After Britney’s brief affair with a boa, and Madonna’s many semi-nudist and full frontal nudist concerts and picture books, and Cher, and Lady Gaga, Miley romping around in a teddy bear outfit that covered her like a one piece bathing suit with a foam finger is pretty tame, or lame, depending on your point of view. Let’s get off our puritanical white horse…and wink back.24176_1250095808770_946372_n

 

 

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My son the Rocker and his sweetheart Ms Cait were here over the weekend. We defied Gravity in IMAX 3D, then descended over 100 feet to another eerie landscape in the caverns of Luray, VA. I pretty much knew from the moment he was born, this baby boy liked action and adventure. What i didn’t know when his band, Parlor Mob, broke up last year was that he’d not only pursue music for film, but he’d continue to support and play music with his friends in the burgeoning arts scene of Asbury Park and beyond…

All the way to Brooklyn this Friday! While cooking another one of his favorite dishes, he casually asked me if I liked Norah Jones. “Yes,” I gushed like a teenage mutant fan, “I love her!” Well it seems Norah’s got a side project, it’s her band Puss N Boots. And he’ll be onstage with her Friday night at the Bowery Electric, since he’ll be playing guitar for an old friend, Nicole Atkins. You remember Nicole, I called her a “… stunning performer with an incredible voice.” https://mountainmornings.net/2011/05/22/hello-apocalypse-no/ And Nicole is headlining!

http://www.theboweryelectric.com/Promotions/cbgb-festivalnicole-atkins-puss-n-bootsbad-girlfriend-the-prettiots/

It’s times like these when I really miss my Jersey Shore life: hoping a train to the city for a concert or a play; walking my Corgis past egrets nesting in trees; waiting for the drawbridge in Sea Bright to deliver us to the beach. Small pleasures that amounted to a life filled with possibility. But I can’t complain, at least I’ll stop complaining right now. Just because I caught a doozy of a cold from my lovely husband Bob, and I’ll have to miss my son’s side project with Nicole, doesn’t mean I can’t fly away in my mind, and play a little Norah on my old fashioned CD player;

Come away with me in the night
Come away with me
And I will write you a song

Come away with me on a bus
Come away where they can’t tempt us
With their lies

Lyrics from <a href=”http://www.elyrics.net”>eLyrics.net</a&gt;

I wonder who was tempting her with their lies? Because I can’t even watch the news anymore, and all the lying going on about who’s holding our government hostage. Wake up. It’s about 40 perverse Republicans who think they can ignore the constitution and walk us off the edge of solvency. I think these guys need to be furloughed without pay. And since they seem to operate with impunity, we need to fix the gerrymandering that created these districts of bloody red zealots.

Let’s teach them how to live without benefits, with part-time work and side projects to make ends meet. That would be a real life lesson for Ted Cruz and his cronies. We need leaders like those WWII vets who stormed the monuments in DC.  http://www.politico.com/story/2013/10/ted-cruz-blasted-by-angry-gop-colleagues-government-shutdown-97753.html

 

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I remember once going out to dinner with the family, and arranged before us on the table were your typical paper placemats. Except that on these cute little mats were a number of what looked like high school portrait pictures. The mats were titled something like “Before They Were Famous.” There in the corner was the key, and you had to match the picture with the star. So long before smart phones and portable gaming devices, long before reality TV produced celebrities, a family had the chance to actually interact by guessing which adolescent girl was now Cher.

Tonight, if you’re lucky enough to live in the New York metropolitan area, or have access to WNET channel 13, http://www.wnet.org, you can tune into a documentary at 10:30 that shines a light on some of our generation’s most acclaimed modern artists.  But it’s like a dream within a dream, because we get a glimpse of the early life of these men, before Studio 54 threw stardust around them, through the lens of a friend and photographer, William John Kennedy.

Full Circle: Before They Were Famous
FULL CIRCLE: BEFORE THEY WERE FAMOUS is the story behind a series of photographs of Andy Warhol and Robert Indiana taken by William John Kennedy in 1963/64 just as the 2 artists were on the cusp of fame. It includes terrific footage of a rare interview with Robert Indiana at his home in Vinalhaven, as well as moments with Ultra Violet and Taylor Mead.
The Director of the Warhol Museum, Eric Shiner, is interviewed and we gain his insight while we watch the evolution of an artistic icon. But if you listen carefully, you’ll hear the musical score of this film, and those of you who know him may recognize a certain something.  Because the music was created by my son, the Rocker, and like any good mom I’d recognize that sound anywhere. From the moment he picked up a violin in first grade, and our Corgi accompanied him, throughout high school with his band in our garage, I’ve become his biggest fan.
I was thinking about him yesterday, on the anniversary of 9/11. Because I knew where my daughter was; I had called her in DC to tell her what was happening and I knew she had left the federal building she was working in and started walking back to her apartment in Adams Morgan. And I knew where Bob was; he was waiting with rescue personnel at the dock in Highlands, NJ for burn patients who never came. But I didn’t know where my son was. He was supposed to start his first after-high-school job on that beautiful Fall day, and they had called to tell him not to come in, but I couldn’t find him.
He was out at Sandy Hook with his friends on the beach, watching the plume of the Twin Tower’s smoke drift out to sea. And the collective trauma of that day was familiar, that sense of suffering brought me back to 1963 when I learned that our President had been shot while I was in gym class at my NJ high school. What does that say about a generation marked by such a tragedy?
Because even before his band, The Parlor Mob, became famous, before the world tours and the Paris Vogue cover shoots and the iTunes Best Rock Band of the Year award, I was always proud of my son for following his own heart, for playing outside of the lines. As the Bard likes to say, and I may have quoted this in his senior yearbook, “To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man.”
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Yesterday was a busy day. It was also the second day of absolutely glorious weather, a day I’d rather have been enjoying outside instead of waiting in an endless waiting room.

While driving to said room, I was listening to an NPR author interview of Douglas Rushkoff who wrote Present Shock, the modern edition of future shock. He was talking about living in a digital age; about the constant pinging of tweets and Facebook messages that serve only to distance us from real time, face to face contact. We get a distorted feeling of connection; we are caught in an elusive virtual present. http://www.upworthy.com/loneliness-illustrated-so-beautifully-you-will-need-to-tell-someone?c=ufb1

The heroine in my current book is certainly not caught in her present. She’s a time traveler, sailing through the buildup to WWII, the 1980s and the flu epidemic of 1918. The Impossible Lives of Greta Wells is a wonderful ride for a summer read. The NYTimes calls it “Elegiac in tone,” full of intrigue brought on by an elusive doctor treating her for depression. Will Greta take a lover in this life? Will her philandering husband return to her in another? Is her twin brother really dead?

It seems Madonna has optioned the film rights to Andrew Sean Greer’s time traveling book!   http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/07/31/madonna-the-impossible-lives-of-greta-wells_n_3683830.html

“I got a phone call last week. … I think it’s fine,” Greer said. ” … From a celebrity who read the book and loved it so much she called me up personally to talk to me about it. I thought it was going to be one of her assistants who was like, loved your book, she’s interested. Right. She didn’t read it. But oh no, no, no. She called me. She read it. She totally got it. There were a couple other people interested and they sort of all made a deal together, and she’s optioned the rights to it. We’ll see what happens. But it’s fun because it was Madonna.”

Yesterday, I was ready to complain about killing time in a doctor’s office. But my very own Dr MacDreamy saw me right away…so I had to switch my first few sentences above out of the present tense and into the past. And I awoke this morning to another glorious day, one day closer to a certain someone’s first birthday. If only we could slow time down just a little.

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We’re back in the Blue Ridge, and the weather is perfect. Nights are in the 50s and it may hit 80 if we’re lucky during the day. I’ve been busy watering my withered plants and sending out a fed ex to my mid-summer dreamy birthday boy.

The Rocker is one year older and so much sweeter. photo 2He’s been working on the music score for a horror film. It’s not exactly my genre, I’m easily scared by zombies so why seek them out in the theatre? Of course, I think he will write the next big song. But did you know that “Blurred Lines” is this summer’s favorite melody…really? I must be getting older.

Robin Thicke’s risque music video was banned from YouTube because it had bare-breasted dancers prancing around him. I listened to his high falsetto voice, the semi-rap of his Euro-club sounding song, and it barely registered and certainly didn’t resonate with me. Using women as sex objects in his video, are we supposed to be surprised?

It’s a summer for Bad Political Men. Men behaving badly; it makes for humorous late-night fodder, if I could stay up that late. I just wonder why we like to malign say a mayor for groping a woman, or a would-be mayor for sexting, but we buy and celebrate Thicke’s music? “You’ve got to have it” I guess.

Enough of these political/sexual peccadilloes! I had to laugh when I found this gender bending sexy boys video, a “Blurred Lines” parody – you may have to move on to the wordpress site to watch. But fair warning, naked men ahead!

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Summer festivals are in full swing, so let me “walk the Blue Ridge” and tell you about a roots music festival starting tomorrow in Natural Chimneys Park right here in the Shenandoah Valley.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Figqdfr3c0Y&feature=player_embedded

The Red Wing Roots Music Festival decided to call this more of an Americana music event, and make its premiere debut family friendly to boot. Music styles encompass Blues, Cajun, Old Time, Bluegrass, Early Country, Gypsy Jazz and all variations on a theme. Unfortunately, the Rocker will be busy hosting his sister this weekend for a friend’s Bridesmaids Party Spectacular Jersey Shore Style. I’m figuring he would have been here in a heartbeat otherwise! http://www.redwingroots.com

And speaking of Melissa McCarthy, who seems to be everywhere at the moment, there is one movie I highly recommend this summer amidst blockbuster action thrillers. Go and see The Heat! It’s a really funny, good old fashioned buddy/cop movie except both cops just happen to be women. I always loved Sandy Bullock, but now I’m head over heels gaga over McCarthy:images

“…it also doesn’t deny McCarthy the delightful contrast between her dimples and her dirty mouth, because her combination of sweetie-pie and vulgarian has always been a major element in her comedic style (which wasn’t entirely obvious before Saturday Night Liveand Bridesmaids). It’s a movie that respects her, but doesn’t patronize or try to protect her from the acting-a-fool elements of making broad comedy in order to be adequately feminist about her body.”

http://www.npr.org/blogs/monkeysee/2013/06/28/196571148/the-heat-is-absolutely-revolutionary-for-being-mostly-ordinary?sc=tw&cc=share

And finally, if the real heat and humidity lately has got you down, and left you gasping for air inside your nicely air conditioned home, tune into PBS and prepare to be amazed by the latest Ken Burns feature “Lewis & Clark; the Journey of the Corps of Discovery.” If only history had been taught like this when I was a wee one. Did you know that Sacagawea (yes, that is the correct spelling) was only sixteen years old when she tagged along with these men? Did you know that she carried her newborn baby on her back, and that her knowledge and language skills were essential to their success? When you think about it, she had been enslaved and sold by her Native People, then “entered” into a plural marriage with a French fur trader who was conscripted for this expedition into the unknown – there are so many human rights violations here, they are too numerous to count.

Meriwether Lewis was born on a farm right around the corner, in Albemarle County, VA. Monuments in his honor speckle the landscape. He and Mr Jefferson were good friends, and Burns’ narrative kept me glued to the first part of this PBS documentary long past my bedtime.  http://www.pbs.org/lewisandclark/

It was a staggering feat to walk, ride and keelboat their way through the northwest passage to the Pacific Ocean; a herculean task in 1804 to set off from St Louis’  “…Camp Dubois “under a jentle brease, Clark writes.” And only the small Native American bride has seen the mountains to the west of the Mississippi.

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We always stay put on the 4th of July weekend. One reason is because the new residents have just started their intern year and need supervising. This has been true for centuries, if not for most of our marriage. The new doctors have to learn how to write a prescription, or maybe today how to email it to a pharmacy. They need to know the complex ins and outs of  digital, medical-coding and record keeping. They need to learn when to admit a patient to the hospital, and how. And what to do when said patient refuses admission and walks out – against medical advice. In other words, all the stuff they didn’t learn in medical school…they have to learn this in the month of July. Which is why you should try to avoid a teaching hospital’s ER in July.

The other reason we stick around on this holiday weekend is because I won’t drive anywhere. Because back in 1949, after my Father had died of a brain tumor in April, the Flapper went for a ride to see the new Wilkes Barre airport. That 4th of July weekend she had her legs crushed and nearly died when a drunk driver hit our car. My Nana and sister Kay were both in a coma, and my brother Jim was sent off to camp with broken ribs. After that trip to the ER, I was 10 months old and ended up with a foster family.

This year, though Bob is working the weekend, he’s off on the 4th so that we can attend Monticello’s Naturalization Ceremony. It’s become a tradition since we moved to Central Virginia, to hike up Mr Jefferson’s mountain and watch and weep while newly minted citizens pledge to honor and defend their new country; more than 3,000 immigrants have raised their right hands since 1963.

Monticello is a beautiful spot for this, full as it is of the spirit that animated this country’s foundation: boldness, vision, improvisation, practicality, inventiveness and imagination, the kind of cheekiness that only comes with free-thinking and faith in an individual’s ability to change the face of the world — it’s easy to imagine Jefferson saying to himself, “So what if I’ve never designed a building before? If I want to, I will.”
from Sam Waterston’s remarks at Monticello, July 4th, 2007

Monticello Fourth 023FB

“Cheekiness,” I like that! We missed the year that George W Bush was the speaker, I don’t know why?

But we’ve heard actors and artists galore rave about these United States of America. https://mountainmornings.net/2011/07/02/yearning-to-breathe-free/ This year our local boy, Dave Matthews will be the keynote speaker. I used to see him working out all the time at our sport’s club (kind of like when I worked out next to the Boss in Shrewsbury). Star struck old lady on a stationary bike. It’s a bit more organized now since we first started our trek nearly 10 years ago. Now you must actually purchase a ticket, and you have to be bussed up to the old house.

I read somewhere that a woman who was taking the oath of citizenship, refused to say she would take up arms for her newly adopted country. http://rt.com/usa/doughty-atheist-citizenship-arms-012/ This created an uproar since she is not religious, but feels as a person of conscience she would not kill anyone. It seems the powers that be wanted her to get it (her pacifism) in writing from a church, before they would allow her to become a US citizen…only the Catch 22 is that she doesn’t belong to any church…Are we surprised that happened in Texas? Obviously a glitch in the naturalization process, since I’m sure Mr Jefferson would agree with her!

The wedding took place one mountain over from Monticello, 3 years ago, where Mr Jefferson grew his grapes and fruit trees. We were pretty cheeky!

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http://www.monticello.org/site/visit/july-4th-monticello

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