Youth Obsessed

Why, with what we know about wisdom, time, and experience, are we still a nation of youth following fanatics? I see no issue enjoying the beauty and innocence of youth – I do so daily – but when we run in reverse to hold onto a look and feel that no longer belongs to us – we miss where we are now. We foolishly dismiss all we’ve gained through the years. This is not only disturbing, it’s destructive.

Life provides its stumbles, but if we are consistently looking backward, we are traveling in the wrong direction.


The beauty of youth is not the beauty of middle or old age, and that’s as it should be. But let us save the baby from the doom of being discarded with the bath water.

Youth is smooth skin, strength and vitality of conviction, wonderful and often untried ideas, the excitement and stimulation of perpetual motion.

With the advent of age come wrinkles, but we are no less beautiful. We slow down to notice and smell red, pink and yellow roses. We own more information and experience than most young people can imagine. We are softer around the edges, and usually, our hearts have been through enough for us to embrace a compassion that the young may see as weakness. We know better – and someday – so will they. Sometimes young people are curtailed by their age, although there is the occasional old soul.


Youth is a wondrous and magical time along with its stresses and growing pains. Getting older can be a time with pluses too – we are usually more settled, more confident, more comfortable in our own skin.  We have our battle scars, aches and pains and wrinkles but all in all, the stages of our life are magnificent, each with its own set of challenges and obstacles.

The trick is enjoying the stage we are in, now.








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Women And Their Friendships

I received a link for this Huffington Post article today from a friend.

The 5 Types Of Friends Worth Holding Onto For Dear Life
The Huffington Post – US

Over the past 10 days, I’ve said goodbye to my two oldest kids. My 21-year-old headed back to college and my 18-year-old headed off to Brazil for the start of a gap year. Fortunately, my husband and I have two more years with our youngest, a 16-year-old daughter. Even so, I’m experiencing the same kind of visceral wrench I always do when I bid farewell to one of my kids. It’s literally a physical ache, a mourning of an active, joyous household held together ― in part ― by the glue of … Read the full story

It is too good not to share. Enjoy the read.

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My birthday is Saturday. It’s a big birthday (isn’t that the silliest statement? people are always asking that).

Hi, what are you doing this weekend?

It’s my birthday Saturday.

Oh, is it a big one?

How do I answer this question? Do I ask them to define big? Is it a new decade or perhaps half or three quarters of the way through one?

It isn’t a new decade, but there does come a time where age becomes significant enough to give consideration to. Even if we don’t want to and feel well enough, the numbers themselves can give a person pause.

After all, there’s only so long, at least until science creates a way for us to live till we are 1000, that the human being can be on this earth, in this body. We age, well or otherwise. Our skin wrinkles, we have more aches and pains, our internal organs agitate, we become more frail and less robust.

On the other hand, for many this time of life is more peaceful, we have less to prove and feel more confident, we have time to do the things we once did not, our kids are grown and on their own, our responsibilities change, as do our choices. Perhaps we are well enough and have the money to travel, write, enjoy our children as adults, pursue new hobbies or rekindle old ones.

Whatever our situation, with all life’s twists and turns – I return to the Desiderata which has been decorating a bathroom wall of mine for most of my life – “With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.” The rest of it is well worth the read. Enjoy your weekend, I certainly plan to.


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The Wedding – Part II

The human condition is rarely an uncomplicated one, so after my eldest son’s wedding I find myself reverberating with what I assume is unfinished business or the reactive underpinnings of a jangled individual. Possibly both.

To start, let me be clear. I am thrilled that my son has married, and I am thrilled with the woman he chose. I  embrace the forward movement this life event characterizes.

With time as a modifier, I see that I floated (perhaps trudged) through some landmines along the wedding path, the majority of which have to do with my expectations of my ex. Continually disappointed, the insanity is that I have been doing this since 1996. One could wonder about my inability to manage my expectations.

The background static of my failed marriage catapulted me into an unconscious tailspin as divorce threw me back to the three year old child who had viscerally been struck with panic, the need to survive, and grief. I was three when my parents’ separated. But I was not expecting to have this reaction at this event, nor was I prepared for it.

I tell myself I was helpless then, but I am not now. So why am I still behaving like the good girl who overlooks bad behavior and stays non-confrontational? The process was too difficult for a three year old to figure out, yet similar feelings of helplessness cascade over me like rushing water short circuiting my cerebral cortex.

There were moments the night of the wedding that I went on automatic pilot. It is the safest way to deal with ancient issues that surface without warning. Or so my subconscious self decided. If one chooses to stay appropriate, and not dig into the unpredictability of feelings – justified or not – one has a better shot at remaining calm, sane, even aloof.

My dancing was sincere and natural, as was my unbridled joy at watching the child I raised become a man and a husband. I danced with many; my son, my daughter in law, my significant other and his grandchildren, my cousin, one of my ex’s siblings.

Parents, I think, ought to offer their offspring the reasonable expectation of reliance. Not perfection, we humans are far from that. Yet, like sub-aquatic vines wound into a tight knot, life can get messy and complicated and stuck. Our willingness to unwrap layers and shed light on areas of constriction may provide us with expanded perspectives.

Love isn’t just a four letter word. It’s determination, grit and integrity have the power to change us, and with it, our world. See the people in the picture below who are, one person at a time, doing just that.


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songs for seeds

As though getting married, leaving a career at MTV, and moving to another county are not enough, my newly married son and daughter in law are now opening a business in Greenwich, Connecticut. Hitting the ground running, they will open their doors in September, 2016. What makes the program particularly attractive, other than great musicians and a love of children and communication, is Jesse and Courtney.

Jesse is an MBA graduate who advises emerging businesses with specific suggestions on growth, sustainability, business planning, and where and how to receive monetary assistance. Courtney is a talented and creative producer with a genuine love of people and children, her humanity shining through like warm, bright light. Together they provide a magnetic framework for operational efficiency coupled with fun and friendly interaction. If you are lucky enough to live in or know of anyone who lives in Westchester County or lower Connecticut, call today and sign up for their classes. Your child will thank you.

The name of the business is songs for seeds (lower cases intentional). It is an educational musical program for moms and/or caretakers to share with children.

songs for seeds (Greenwich, CT)
songs for seeds

242 Sound Beach Ave
Old Greenwich, Connecticut 06870

(646) 820-9916
songs for seeds
Official Page

Spread the word! songs for seeds is coming to Greenwich, Ct in t-minus one month. Check out for more information on our program and how you can sign up for FREE classes. Can’t wait to see everyone in September.

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Tell everyone you know and call today –  (646) 820-9916.

You will be in for a treat. The most fun you and your child have all week. Tell them Wendy sent you.


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The Wedding – Part 1

Recovering from too much thinking, not enough eating, and adrenaline surges aimed at various and sundry exigencies, the wedding itself, has occurred.

I am slowly awakening from the maze of happenings. The rehearsal dinner, the wedding, clothing and accessorizes that took on a life of their own. Weddings are indeed ‘a box of chocolates’. The joy of my son and daughter in law in love and publically pronouncing such; the processional walk, arm in arm, with my son as we meandered purposefully down the aisle, each of us turning our heads from side to side, smiling at the sea of faces surrounding us like a safety net; the background reminder of my failed marriage but the enormous counterweight of my four children and our relationships, the support of a new partnership, the passing of so much time.

It is mind numbing emotional fodder. The better to grow with, however. I realized a lot. I realized I fell into a well oiled groove (without feeling any gear shift). I allowed people who don’t matter to affect my evening, therefore not having as much room for those that do. It made me fantastically painstakingly aware not to give away my time, thoughts or power indiscriminately (almost unconsciously – like muscle memory). I am a smarter woman today.

The other side is I enjoyed the day tremendously. I danced with abandon, felt surrounded by those I love best in the world, and loved my dress (except that one of my son’s friends stepped on the bustle – which fell slightly longer in the back – before the wedding, and it needed to be sewed on by hand by a bridesmaid with very little thread). Best not to discuss it further. Suffice it to say, I kept people at bay (so as not to rip it more) but did not allow the ripped dress experience to unduly influence my evening.

I did not drink a lot. There was some drama. I was there as a major participant in the most important day of two people, to date. The honor and privilege was a universal reminder of what matters. The rest, my friends, is piffle.


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Yesterday, three days before the wedding, I went to get a mani/pedi and ran into someone I haven’t seen in a long time. The reason she turned around was because the manicurist called my name, which happens to also be hers.

When she saw me she asked what’s new. I mentioned that my son Jesse is getting married in three days. Her eyes widened and she popped out of her seat. She was so excited, and gave me a piece of advice that I – of anyone – should already have been in possession of. But, in my haste and concern not to forget anything for the wedding, I wasn’t.

“It goes by so fast,” she said. Take a moment to take everything in, look into the eyes of the people you pass when you walk your son down the aisle, be thrilled and proud to stand under the chuppah with your family. Be present. Now this is a lesson I learned in spades when my parents died within three months of each other. There was no other option I could manage and still live with myself.

But this feels different, it’s a happy time, a beginning, something that will continue. There is no urgency. And therein lies my faulty logic. Where did I learn that tragedy requires full presence, when joy does not?

Her words hit me. My concern about my dress and shoes and handbag are small potatoes next to my child marrying, my new relationship with my daughter-in-law, the experience of witnessing love and marriage, being surrounded by those I care about most. Why would I, why would anybody, chose to be anything less than fully present?

With the awareness, I don’t think anyone would. Yet, taking in every second consciously without the metaphysical awareness of doing so, falls short. It’s too easy to get sidetracked. So, it is now my intention to take the weekend in slow-mo, starting with the rehearsal dinner on Friday. Frame by frame, step by step, one beautiful face at a time. This way the memories etched in my brain, my muscles, and my heart will forever remain. Just like when each of my children were born. It will be achingly magnificent and impossible to forget.

I shall report on the experience in the aftermath. I am curious about the guests, the music, the hora, the blessings. How can the same three days (two now) feel like a breath and an eternity away?


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