What Kind of Year Has It Been?

This New Year’s Eve, it seems like people are either home sick or out frolicking like they haven’t been since 2019. Me, I’m neither. But I am reflective and a tad melancholy, so I thought, why not bring all of you down with me?

 

I jest. Sort of. 

 

I am not someone who particularly enjoys staring in the rearview mirror. I tend to be driven to accomplish large goals, whatever they may be. But every once in a while, it’s important to stop all the moving, to stand still and reflect, and to just be.

 

New Year’s Eve seems the logical time for that. So instead of rushing toward resolutions, fad diets, and endless to-do lists, I’m taking a moment to ask myself, “What kind of year has 2022 been?”

 

What have I learned? What have I accomplished? What am I proud of? What dreams have come true? What unexpected gifts were there? How have I changed and grown? What broke my heart? What made me stronger? What truths have I surrendered to? In what ways have I made this world kinder? Have I loved well?

 

I hate the superficial. Sure, I can talk about the weather…as a gateway to how humanity is going to perish, but not really as a pleasant cocktail conversation. I digress, though.

 

2022 has been a tough year, and not just because it feels like the 27^th year of this freakin’ pandemic, but because I am a full-time caregiver and this year has seen the transition into in-home hospice for my 94 year old father. 

 

Caregiving gives one the unique experience of having time pass in excruciatingly slow motion and simultaneous warp speed. It has given me an opportunity to be present and savor moments, hugs, and stories in a way most people never can, but it also carries with it the weight of pending grief and loss. 

 

As I look back, I have to acknowledge the fortitude it took to keep dreams alive and to move them forward any which way I could in 2022. 

 

Doing online concerts every month from March 2020 until August 2022 afforded me the chance to perform for people worldwide. It kept me writing songs and growing, and because the pandemic leveled the playing field by forcing all of us to make it work from home, with no fanfare, it gave me the opportunity to have my favorite writers hear me. 

 

If you had told me any time prior to this past year that people whose work inspired me would become fans of my work, I would not have believed it. But life has a funny way of gifting us unlikely opportunities if we put ourselves out there. For whatever my songwriting career didn’t live up to previously, 2022 left me with a kind of satisfaction that I never knew I’d have.

 

Are there dreams you haven’t yet dared allowed yourself to dream?

 

Early in the pandemic, I began writing a musical. What more logical thing could one do when Broadway was shut down? No pressure, the theaters were dark and no one knew if they’d come back. 

 

At first, I wouldn’t even acknowledge that a show was what I was writing. It started with one song. Then another. And another. And before I could deny or resist any longer, I had to admit this was what I was doing – writing a show.

 

And God, joker that He/She is, wasted no time in revealing that this was the thing all previous endeavors were but mere preparation for. Writing a musical, like writing books, is an enormous undertaking. There is something slightly insane about those of us who do it. It’s a nifty combination of “wouldn’t it be fun if…” and “what the hell was I thinking?!” 

 

Be that as it may, as this year draws to a close, I can say I’ve done table readings, and I know no matter how far I still have to go, I’ve taken a major step. So I will forge ahead, however long it takes me to see this sucker to fruition. 

 

For all the things I am grateful to have done this past year, there is also a gnawing at what has passed me by. Invitations I had to decline, friends I couldn’t see in person, trips I could not make because for everything we say “yes” to, we must say “no” to something else. 

 

I wonder how I will emerge from this time spent at home, when the situation changes. Even now, I cherish moments of connection more than most will ever fathom. I don’t have the energy for facades or the desire to dwell on minutia. And I appreciate laughter for the sweet relief it brings during the darkest moments. 

 

I would like to tell you that I have all my ducks in a row as 2023 begins, that I’ve got a personal trainer and a list of goals I’m going to “crush,” as the kids like to say. Note to kids: don’t “crush” – manifest, create, embody. 

 

I hope 2023 finds us all less hateful and more loving, less greedy and more giving, less fearful and more trusting. I hope 2023 finds us bolder in our heart’s desires, stronger in our resolve to venture outside of our comfort zones, and intentional in building the kind of world we want to live in.

I hope 2023 finds us being honest with ourselves.

 

I hope we stay awake to our fragility and have compassion for one another, knowing how brief our time here. 

 

I hope we maintain a sense of humor, because just about everything is funny if you know how to look at it right.

 

And finally, I hope we find our way back to love, to who we were before life had its way with us. I hope we resurrect the part of ourselves that believes anything is possible. 

 

In 2023…

May you be healthy

May you be peace-filled

May you be prosperous

May you be generous

May you be kind

May you be fulfilled 

 

Happy New Year!

 

xo

Ilene

...The Person in the Old Headshot

There’s this thing going on in social media where people are posting their old headshots. 

Me, I jumped right on that bandwagon, posting one of mine from the 90’s. It’s a younger, skinnier, flawless-skinned version of me. And it has probably received the most “likes” of anything I’ve ever posted.

 

I could have left it at that and walked away with a win. But nooo. I had to comment on someone else’s headshot, someone I didn’t know when his photos were taken, someone whom I would not have recognized if I saw him walk right in front of me. 

 

I said, “Who is that person?” about his headshot.

 

That, of course, got me thinking – who was the person in my photo?

 

Who was she, and what would I want to tell her? What do I wish she had known? 

 

There’s the obvious - “buy stock in Apple,” but I’m not really talking about that kind of thing here. I’m talking about what would have made a difference in my trajectory, in the joy I experienced along the way, in my quality of life. 

 

For starters, I would tell that Ilene that she was a stone cold fox and to take that out for a spin and have a little fun with it. 

 

I wish that Ilene had an ounce of the self-approval that today’s version has. She might’ve sauntered.

 

I would tell that younger version of me that she was of equal value to any person she admired for any reason and there was nothing she could do to lessen that.

 

I wish the woman in that old headshot knew that speaking up wasn’t optional and that she was a leader, reluctant or otherwise.

 

I wish old headshot Ilene wasn’t so afraid to be seen.

I would tell her to laugh more. It’s good for your health.

 

I would let her know that time goes by exponentially faster with every passing year, and that most of what we fret about is of little consequence. 

 

I would tell old headshot version of Ilene to have the difficult, pointed conversations, no matter how uncomfortable, because they grow relationships. I would tell her that vulnerability is a strength and a gift to those who receive it. 

 

I would thank old headshot Ilene for surviving life with optimism and hope and a tireless belief in possibilities she could see no evidence of manifesting most of the time. 

 

I would love to tell the old version of me some of the outrageous and amazing things we were gonna do together. 

 

The Ilene in that picture dared to dream and dip a toe in the raging waters of a universe she feared more than trusted, but still, she did it.

 

I would tell old headshot version of Ilene that she’d look at that photo one day and smile, with a heart full of gratitude for miles traveled and lessons learned.

 

Still, the Apple thing is kind of a bummer…

A Barbra Streisand Birthday Blog!

Today, I’ve been pondering why I’m grateful to Barbra Streisand.

 

Historically, when I’ve written about anyone for his or her birthday, it’s been someone I’ve known personally. Not this time.

 

I don’t know Barbra Streisand personally. I’ve never met her. In fact, to my knowledge, I have only been in the same place at the same time with her once, in 1994, at Madison Square Garden, when I sat in the highest balcony to hear her. 

 

She isn’t someone whose picture hung on my wall in a passing adolescent phase. But she is someone whose voice and choices shaped the trajectory of my life, and whose example as a woman in the music and movie business, as well as an activist and philanthropist have paved the way for me and, frankly, for every other woman since. 

 

So today, on her 80^th birthday, I want to say “thank you” from this particular songwriter and activist.

 

Hers was the voice that inspired me to write, to become a professional songwriter. Hers is the voice indelibly etched in my mind, the one song cut I still yearn for, and the yardstick by which I have measured both singers and songs.

 

I don’t recall a time before her voice reverberated through my home. My mother was a fan, and I am a year older than her son, Jason. So I was learning from infancy both what great singing was, yes, but also what great songwriting was. I don’t know of any other kid in single digits who read liner notes or aspired to be a member of ASCAP. 

 

My tastes and influences were formed before the era where genres of music were stringently separated. Musical theater and pop songs coexisted on the same album and charts, so in my mind, it was all one big, glorious thing – music. 

 

I can’t say that I have always had an easy go of the music business, but I distinctly remember thinking of Ms. Streisand when I was running a recording session in Nashville with a bunch of guys who were rolling their eyes and pushing back. I remembered a speech she gave to Women in Film, where she said:

 

“A man is commanding, a woman is demanding.

A man is forceful, a woman is pushy. 

He’s assertive, she’s aggressive. 

He strategizes, she manipulates.

He shows leadership, she’s controlling.

He’s committed, she’s obsessed.

He’s persevering, she’s relentless.

He sticks to his guns, she’s stubborn.

If a man wants to get it right, he’s looked up to and respected.

If a woman wants to get it right, she’s difficult and impossible.”

 

Until you’re the person experiencing that firsthand, you cannot appreciate the veracity of it. I can’t say that my job was made easier, but there was something inspiring about knowing that someone else had called it out, named it, and moved forward in spite of it, that made me able to move forward, too.

 

And that brings me to what we use our voice and platform for. Artists are criticized for using their celebrity for things outside the arts. And I’d like to thank every damn one of them who does it, especially Barbra.

 

Our time on this earth is brief, and if you are one of the fortunate few, who have an opportunity to reach and influence people or raise money to save this planet and the people on it, then I say have at it, it is incumbent upon you, make a difference, be the change.

 

Whether it’s been standing outside a congressman’s office with a bullhorn and a news crew to get universal healthcare passed, or live streaming concerts to raise money for humanitarian aid in the Ukraine, I stand on the shoulders of people like Barbra, who aren’t afraid to take a stand and do what they can with what they have from where they are. For that, I will be forever grateful.

 

As for the elusive song cut, I still hold out hope. Not because I’m delusional about statistical likelihoods, but because I believe there is still something of value that needs to be said, that can best be said by the sum of the parts.

 

So Barbra, if you’re reading this – I wish you many more happy, healthy, joy-filled years…and thank you.

 

Love,

Ilene

My Annual Super Bowl Blog!

If you’ve been following this blog for any amount of time, you know that I do an annual Super Bowl blog, dedicated to this one day a year when America, at its finest, exhibits socially acceptable tribalism while gorging itself on obscene amounts of salty, processed, and frequently deep-fried foods. God bless America.

 

I’m not one to pooh-pooh how anyone makes an honest living, but I really think there has got to be a better way than jumping on each other until you’ve got traumatic brain injury. 

 

I’ve been schooled by fans of the sport that there is, in fact, strategy involved. Teamwork. Camaraderie. Some form of ingenuity. 

 

My question is, with all that strategy and ingenuity, is there any play that doesn’t end up with men piled on top of each other? No? I rest my case.

 

This year, I’m a little sentimental about the event, largely because Joe Namath, the one name in football that I unequivocally know, has been doing commercials for Medicare. Medicare. Is that what it’s come to?

 

I saw the Manning brothers on TV recently. I’m not really sure if my knowledge of them is because of their past football prowess or because they have a good agent.

 

You’ll be pleased to know that I actually googled who is playing in the Super Bowl today. Yes, I’ve managed to circumvent that information for an entire football season, but now I know - Rams and Bengals. 

 

More important than the teams and who is playing in the halftime show, I would like to talk about the one lasting, greatest legacy that the Super Bowl has ever given us, and that is Whitney Houston’s version of the The Star Spangled Banner. 

 

For those of you old enough to remember it, you know that her rendition has outlasted our memory of who actually played that year. And for those of you whippersnappers who are not old enough to know, Whitney is the only artist in history to make The Star Spangled Banner a top ten single in Billboard’s Hot 100. Yes, people, myself included, bought a cassette tape single of our national anthem and actually rode around listening to it. 

 

I mention this trivia, because two days ago marked the 10-year anniversary of Whitney’s death, and I thought it only appropriate. Also, I hate football.

 

So what will I be doing while most of America is watching the game tonight? I plan on trying to catch up on a few of the Winter Olympic events I’ve missed. I love all the winter sports, but figure skating has been my favorite thing to watch since early childhood.

 

Oooh, speaking of which, there’s a great documentary out on Public Television about Randy Gardner. It’s called Go Figure and it is chock full of stunning skating. If you are a fan of the sport at all, you must see it.

 

See that - I can talk about sports…or at least figure skating.

 

Meanwhile, I’ll be listening to Whitney today, hoping she found the peace she never knew while she was here.

 

Whatever your Super Bowl Sunday activities might be, I hope you stay safe, healthy, and enjoy them.

 

Until next year…Happy Super Bowl!

Whitney Houston Star Spangled Banner