In Search of...what else could possibly go wrong?

Back in May I went to the wedding of a friend of mine. I had been looking forward to it for some time, and when the day finally arrived, I joyfully began getting dressed for the occasion.

As I noticed the small hole in my Spanx, perhaps I should have taken it as an omen - oh, not for the bride and groom, but for how the rest of my evening was going to go.

After deciding that the hole was noticeable, I opted to change to regular pantyhose. I figured it was safer to forgo the five pounds thinner that the Spanx was going to make me look in favor of not having to worry about the hole manifesting into a bigger hole and eventually a run that I would have to deal with while at the wedding. Simple enough, right? So I dug out a plain old pair, and put them on - the operative word being "old." You see, if you let things with elastic in them hang out in your dresser drawer for a few too many years, then the elastic doesn't work anymore. "No time to worry about that," I said to myself. It'll be fine.

I finished dressing with no more incidences and left for the wedding. I was in my typical New York dress attire - black cocktail dress, black hose, and my favorite DSW black dress shoes with a rhinestone t-strap. I arrived at the wedding and headed to the chairs surrounding the gazebo where the ceremony was to take place. A few steps into my destination, I felt something go terribly wrong in the direction of my feet. The sole of my left shoe completely separated from the rest of the shoe, making it impossible for me to walk at all. Immediately my mind began racing with ways to remedy this calamity. Could I go home and get back in time for the wedding? No. Take off my shoes altogether? No. Could I hop on the one good shoe, limp, drag, or otherwise saunter? Nope, not an option. Oh, what to do. So the friend I drove with ran to find the bridal family and see if anyone had any ideas or possibly a shoe in a 9 Narrow. Not exactly an average size, to be sure. That's when my friend Anthony had the idea for a solution - the band.

You would think after schlepping my own roll of duct tape to enough gigs, I would have thought of that tidbit of brilliance. However, there was no band, but a DJ. So off to the music men I hobbled, where lo and behold, the roll of duct tape appeared in time to save the day for me. After taping my shoe together, I gingerly walked toward the chairs for the ceremony.
I noticed that many of the guests surrounding me looked like extras for the show Jersey Shore, which only served to make me and my taped together shoe feel, well, let's just say not brimming with confidence.

I survived the ceremony intact, and made my way to the cocktail hour, where I basically sat, too afraid to put my duct tape to the test. When it was time to go inside for the reception, I had the strange sensation that something was creeping down my thighs. It was the pantyhose with no elastic falling further and further with each step. I slapped my hands to my thighs, hoping to keep it from falling past the hem line of the dress until I could waddle to the ladies room to assess my options.

Under normal circumstances, this occurrence would have been cause for more than mild hysteria, but I was taking migraine medication, which left me with the unusual ability to go with the flow. After tucking the stretched out stockings as far as they could go into the girdle-like undergarment I had dug out to replace the Spanx, I walked back to the reception, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible.

The music started and I got up to dance. This was a risky move considering the precariousness of my clothing situation. But I couldn't just sit there all night. This was a celebration, for goodness sake! Besides, what else could possibly go wrong?

Well, I didn't have to look too much further for that when the evening was over and it was time to say our goodbyes. I'm a hugger...which is how my bracelet got caught on the grooms jacket. A slight moment of panic ensued as I tried to remove the bracelet and not tear the jacket in the process. I'm sure the bride had a moment, too, of justifiable bewilderment at the scene.

I got myself untangled and left as quickly as I could. By this time, the dancing had moved the sole of my shoe that the tape was still holding together. I made it home in time to relegate the shoes to history as well as the pantyhose. I made a mental note to never hug anyone while wearing that particular bracelet, and I thanked God that this disastrous evening belonged to me and not the bride and groom. Surely their life together would go more smoothly than my night at their wedding.

I marveled at my continuous, uncharacteristic calmness throughout obstacle after obstacle, and I made a mental note about buying some more duct tape. All in all, these seemed like valuable lessons to take away from a challenging evening.

Long life to the bride and groom. Thanks for stopping by. Please tell your friends.

In Search of...the summer of my youth

It's summer, the season in which I traditionally turn off the TV and read as many books as I can that strike my fancy. So while Oprah is gone from my afternoons, and the notion of a book club is appealing to me, I thought I'd start my own little book review. Rest assured mine will not be the stuff of great literature, but rather of the triumphs and flaws of human nature found in the very real lives of famous people.

The book market is flooded with my favorite genre - the memoir. It seems that everyone who ever lived has written a book about themselves, and frankly, I don't mind one bit, because I think people are inherently interesting. Everyone from Rick Springfield to Dick Van Dyke to Steven Tyler has books out. And I intend to read them all. I want to know the real stories, the inside scoop, the truth behind the illusion that fame masks so well. Or do I?

This influx of celebrity memoirs comes at a time when I long for what I call "my happy place," an alternate universe where good triumphs, and justice prevails, and all is truly well that ends well. This is a place that seems like a distant memory in our current world. I want to revisit a time where my dreams seemed possible and felt probable. I want to remember a time where what I loved in all forms of entertainment was current, a time before my favorite songs were played on oldies stations and my favorite stars were still recognizable before plastic surgery. Ah yes, I long for the sound of the Good Humor ice cream truck - before the diabetes kicked in. I'm asking for the impossible, I know. But this year, I am longing for the summer of my youth.

I don't want to waste any time about it, either. So my first read of the summer was Brady, Brady, Brady - The Complete Story of The Brady Bunch as Told by the Father/Son Team Who Really Know by Sherwood Schwartz and Lloyd J. Schwartz. Whew! That's already a mouthful, isn't it?!

Yes, I started with the show that was my earliest favorite memory of TV. Perhaps I should have let myself stay blissfully ignorant, untarnished by reality. Did I really need to know that the Brady backyard wasn't a backyard at all? That the grass was plastic and that Bobby was really a blond? That Gene Hackman was the top choice for the part of Mike Brady? Can I ever go back now to a time before conjuring the visual of all the "siblings" lusting for each other in Hawaii? Yes, I wanted the back story of the show, but what I realized as every last childhood illusion was shattered, was that this show was real to me. These people were real. To a four, five, six year old Ilene, Marcia, Jan, and Cindy were who I wanted to emulate. Their hairstyles and clothes were what I wanted mine to be. Alas, my thick, curly, frizzy hair would never look like Marcia's. On the upside, I never had to overcome a cocaine addiction. But still, somehow I wish I didn't know so much.

As a book, Brady, Brady, Brady is a quick, easy read - the book version of episodic television. The chapters are short, but it always kept my attention and gave interesting heretofore unknown tidbits. I would describe it as a good chaser for the darker subject matter to follow.

Well, on to the next book...

Thanks for stopping by. Please tell your friends.

In Search of...three coins in the fountain

Well, since I last touched base with you, the Huffington Post published my Weinergate blog, the Catholic League took offense to it and quoted me everywhere on line that they possibly could, the Congressman succumbed to the pressure of his party and resigned via another press conference, and I ran out of hope that any elected official whose politics I agree with will not get themselves into some sort of sex scandal. (Bill Clinton, Eliot Spitzer, Anthony Weiner...you get the idea.)

And so I began longing for a time when life did not seem so complex, or at least when all that seemed wrong with the world could easily be righted. In as much as things could be categorized as right or wrong, good or bad, black or white, life seemed doable, manageable, okay. Without gray areas, the world made sense. But these are the viewpoints of a child, or maybe more importantly, of a bygone era.

My five year old niece asked her mother for a coin to toss in the fountain when they were out one day. After tossing the coin, she looked up at her mother and announced her wish: "I want more toys." On the surface, that sounds perfectly normal and age appropriate. The only problem is that we as a species have not gotten past the wish of a five year old. Oh, our definition of toys is different. We want a bigger house, nicer cars, wall-mounted flat screens, iPads, iPhones, iPods and every other kind of gadget and gizmo ever invented.

As countries, we want bigger missiles, more drones, and a free pass to ravage the earth in order to get our way. Maybe it's not exactly the five year old that's being juvenile here. When do our individual desires become that of an adult who would sacrifice convenience for the future of our planet and the survival of our species? In other words, when are we going to grow up?

We have infinite ways to distract ourselves from the very real calamities we face. But face them we must one day. I love pop culture, but I don't delude myself into thinking that who wins American Idol will make any difference to anyone but his or her family. And I don't really care who thinks they can dance. On the other hand, I would tune in to see who's got an idea for saving the planet. People could compete each week to see who has the better idea for reversing global warming, salvaging our water supply, regenerating our own healthy organ tissue to heal our bodies. I'd watch that show, even if they didn't hand out roses or deem the contestants pretty. I'd call them beautiful.

So I've been thinking about my wishes for when I next have the opportunity to toss three coins in a fountain, and these are the three I have for now:

May I fully realize every bit of my potential.
May I live in the moment every moment.
May I enjoy my journey while leaving something better for having been here.

I hope on this Father's Day weekend that you take a minute to contemplate your own wishes. I hope you dare to wish them. And I hope that once said aloud, you and I find the courage within us to make them come true.

Thanks for stopping by. Please tell your friends.

In Search of...my Weiner blog

Once, just once I would like a public servant who gets caught in an affair, or a flirtation, or in any kind of compromising but not illegal situation to look us straight in the eye right from the get go and say, "Yup, I did it." Oh, I know, it's not going to happen. But it would be so refreshing if it did.

I am, of course, referring to the press conference held today by Congressman Anthony Weiner that came ten days late and a few denials short of that blatant admission of guilt.

Do I care if he's flirting with women other than his wife? No. Do I care that he fights for my best interests in congress? Yes.

I know, I know, I heard this argument when I was defending Bill Clinton years ago. It's not the affair, it's the lying about the affair. Well, duh. If a guy cheats, he's not going to come clean until he has no choice, and by that time, there's probably already been an investigative committee set up.

I believe I have already stated in previous blogs that Congressman Weiner was my favorite congressperson still in office. So yes, I am rocking back and forth, holding my head in anguish, exclaiming aloud to an absent congressman, "You're killing me!" But exclamations aside, I honestly don't care.

I care that he can shout down the likes of John Boehner, and so only in as much as this impacts his ability to do that, does it matter to me at all. Yes, I would have preferred he not lie. And sure, I wish he were a stand up guy to his wife. But I'm not married to him, so maybe that's why I can see this as being a case of momentary, monumental stupidity.

There is a distinction between one's behavior in his or her personal life and what they can do for the good of the country as a public servant. Lyndon Johnson was doing women other than Lady Bird on the White House couch, and he still managed to pass civil rights legislation. Do I condone it? No. All I'm saying is let's not be naive about what does and does not impact our everyday lives as citizens.

I've said it before: there is a certain kind of arrogance that you have to have in order to run for public office...and then actually do it and win. And this kind of arrogance, in my opinion, is the same kind that makes a man think he can be unfaithful and not get caught. We've seen it time and time again. And it never ceases to amaze me that people don't learn from even immediate history.

So here's what I would say to anyone doing anything they don't want landing in the public eye: Don't do it. The truth always comes out eventually. We want it to, even if we don't think we do. No one inherently wants to live a lie. It is just not how we are wired.

So to Anthony Weiner and his wife, I wish you both healing and forgiveness. Now let's get on with it. There is too much at stake in our country and in the world to spend one more minute on this foolishness. So good luck and Godspeed, Congressman.

Thanks for stopping by. Please tell your friends.

In Search of...enough already!

Every so often, I get a survey from one of the major television networks. It usually focuses on a few specific shows, asking me if I watch them and how often, and if not, why not. This time it was about some reality shows involving housewives and chefs, and I said that I caught a little bit of them and didn't care to watch them again. They asked me why not, and I pondered that momentarily before responding that they neither entertained nor uplifted me in any way, so I looked at them as a waste of my time.

This got me thinking. What is it we busy ourselves with that has no discernible value? What else could we be doing? What else should we be doing? And if it's true that you get out of something what you put into it, then what does that say about us? If we are incessantly filling our minds and souls with drivel, what can we expect to get out of ourselves?

One could argue that watching Snookie's drunken fender bender with the Italian police might serve as a lesson in what not to do. But wouldn't a good dose of common sense tell you the same thing? And really, what do I get from watching Donald Trump and Sarah Palin eating pizza together in Times Square? I get annoyed, actually. For two millionaires, I would have been more bedazzled if they'd bought the pizza for some regular folks in the city and then sat down with them to eat it. Come on you patriots, put your money where your pizza-loving mouths are, that's what I say! But I digress.


I love being entertained, amused, even tickled. However, I know that that alone will not in any way help me be my best self. There's a lot to be learned from other people's lives, but I can pretty much guarantee that those lessons will not be found by watching the housewives of any county, city, or state - at least not the ones on TV.

So I've turned off the television altogether and said, "Enough already!" I've begun doing something profoundly different - reading. I'll grant you that I've come to this decision after we've crowned our Dancing with the Stars champion, our new American Idol, and now that Oprah has bid us farewell. So really, what is left to watch? But still, it's the intent I'm going for here.

What else is there that I can say "Enough already!" about? How different would my life be if I was mindful of what and whom I welcomed into it? What if I carefully chose to surround myself with people and activities that enhanced my joy and enriched my life? What would it be like to be the kind of person who would be invited into such a circle?

We live in a world where we are constantly inundated with negative words, thoughts, and images. We are at the same time the collective people who feel the need to stop and stare at the horrific car accident, as well as the ones honking our horns, annoyed that the devastation before us has interrupted our schedule and made us late. Empathy and compassion have become tantamount to weakness, and strength seems only to be defined by our ability to obliterate our opponent. We seldom agree to disagree. We just plain disagree in any darn way we choose. We don't walk a mile in anyone else's shoes, let alone those without shoes at all.

And so I say, "Enough already!" It's time for those of us who are not used to raising our timid voices, to make ourselves known and heard. It's time to stop cowering in the corner and pretending that love isn't the answer. Or that the truth doesn't matter. Or that violence does not beget violence. In reality, true courage can only be exercised when we are willing to be vulnerable, speak honestly, and give a damn about both those we know and those whom we don't. It is nothing short of bravery to ignore a world that would mock us. Oh, but just wait until you're stranded on the side of the road and your AAA has expired. That's when you would just love a kind stranger to "love thy neighbor."

Ah yes. We find our way to God when the going gets tough. And we find our way to compassion when we have nothing. And if we're lucky, we remember to whisper a "thank you" when good fortune finds us. I say lets do it now. Let's say "Enough already!" to mindless insensitivity, blatant greed, and the reckless endangerment of our lives and the planet. Let's declare, "Enough already!" to those words that are used to promote fear, incite violence, and control the masses by threats, both veiled and overt. Let's decide together that it is better to swim against the tide than to go with the flow of oil-filled waters and polluted souls.

Let's agree that there will come a day when we will manifest an abundance of goodness so overwhelming and heretofore unseen, that we will finally understand that we were always and already enough. Let's act like we know it now.

Thank you for stopping by. Please tell your friends.

Peace and blessings to you,
Ilene

In Search of...songs that inspire me

Did you ever hear a song that moves you so much you have to pull over to the side of the road just to listen? Did you ever hear a song and feel grateful that there was someone else out there, going through what you're going through, who understood exactly how you felt?

Don't misunderstand me, I think songs are a great source of entertainment to bop around to on a dance floor,or sing along with in the car during rush hour, but even more importantly, they are the stuff that gets us through both the good and bad times in life. At their best, they uplift us, comfort us, inspire us, and make us feel a little less alone in the world. They are the stuff which unites while the world goes mad with divisiveness.

And so I wanted to share with you some of what makes me tie a knot and hold on when I'm at the end of my rope. I hope you enjoy them, and that they bless you like they do me.

(NOTE: Once you've clicked on a link below, you have to hit your "back" button to return to the blog.)

"I Will Raise My Voice" - Kira Small (Kira Small)
http://www.offrowrecords.com/FREEdownload.html

"Who I am Today" - BethAnne Clayton (BethAnne Clayton)
http://www.myspace.com/bethanneclayton/music/songs/who-i-am-today-13743616

"Stand" - Lorraine Ferro (Tanya Leah, Lorraine Ferro, Joanne Sonderling)
http://www.myspace.com/lorraineferro/music/songs/stand-28455781

"The Fragile Ones" - Jason Elliott (Tanya Leah, Matthew Garringer, Jason Elliott)
http://www.tanyaleah.com/music.html

And here's one from me -

"Stronger in the Broken Places" Ilene Angel (Ilene Angel)
http://www.myspace.com/482453414

In Search of...my Oprah blog

It turns out nothing can make me carve out a few minutes to return to blogging like the end of the Oprah Winfrey Show. As the final episodes wound down, and a feeling of overwhelming loss swept over me this past week, I wanted another chance - to soak up whatever wisdom I somehow missed, to pay attention, to savor. I wanted another opportunity to feel the comfort of the certainty that came from knowing I could count on one hour of television that would make me think differently, open me up, inspire me to be my best self day after day, year after year.

As I reached for endless Kleenex, I knew that this twenty-five year old conversation was drawing to a close, and I would be left, like the rest of America, to treasure and fondly reflect on our time together as a thing of the past. Oprah called us all to take whatever we've learned and put it to use. I feel like our collective training wheels have been removed, and we are forced to find our own balance, and strength, and courage to claim a future that is called our lives.

I've already decided that the hour a day I'm gaining would best be spent doing the work of the mind and spirit. Maybe it will be reading a book. Maybe it will be writing one.

I know that many of you feel the same way I do, and that it is normal to mourn a loss, even as we celebrate a new beginning and wish each other well.

To Oprah Winfrey I wish the ability to somehow take in the magnitude of the affection that is directed her way. I wish her good health, long life, and a chance to take a deep, long, satisfying breath.

From a grateful Oprah fan - thank you and Godspeed.