Superhero Shenanigans

Some superhero shenanigans happened today.  We had fun.  I could listen to Ally all the live long day.  She is hilarious, endearing, has a most awesome laugh, and is all about empowering women -- and men -- to be their most amazing selves.

If you want to get a sneak peak into the book and a glimpse into some things I haven't spoken about publically or written about even, you can click here: Ally's Superhero Episode with Bridget Fonger


Then...when you have time you will probably dig this Wonder Woman interview with the extraordinary Elizabeth Cronise McLaughlin: 

Ally's Wonder Woman Episode with Elizabeth Cronise McLaughlin


By the way, I just heard via Ally today of Elizabeth's current tour and scored a last minute ticket today to her upcoming event in Los Angeles.  Check out the tour Here!

Both Ally and Elizabeth are serious-big-time-up-to-super-big-heart-stuff Superheroes of Love so check them out in all the ways you can!

Move Over, Abe

I get to D.C. a couple times a year and never leave the city without visiting my Boyfriend Abe.  As was confirmed a couple of years ago by one of the park rangers who watches over him, he is IN THERE!  I always take a million pictures of him, because like anyone we love, we can never get enough of them, right?

This time it was dusk and coming up the mall toward him I shot a million photos because he just looked so exquisite in the fading light.  The rain had just stopped, and it was late enough that the kiddie population had thinned.  

Somehow this time it looked like he was waiting for me.  I, of course, silently told him how much I adored him, and like any insane lover of a dead man, I attempted a selfie with him towering over my shoulder.  I will spare you that one.

Standing at his feet I said "Hmmm....what messages might you have for me, darling dearest?" and -- again like any insane lover of a dead man I heard him reply. 

He said "Great things are coming!"  Lovely.  A while later I skipped off into the night with the loveliest misty rain showering down upon me and walked for about an hour through the quiet D.C. streets. 

Seventy two hours later something truly great did happen.  I was reconnected (by a very special friend) with a man I had a mad crush on almost 30 years ago.   The most extraordinary thing about him is that he shares some of Abe's lovely traits, the most important of which is that he thinks my above-mentioned insanity is adorable.   

I imagine that Abe thought Mary Todd's insanity was slightly adorable as well.  

So, while Abe will always have a huge chamber of my heart permanently carved with his name, I have a lovely man looking for his own piece of real estate in the same neighborhood.

Some Superheroes of Love Have to Face Some Mighty Battles

I went to see Noel Coward's A Song at Twilight at the Pasadena Playhouse last night. Brilliant: Roxanne Hart, Sharon Lawrence and Bruce Davison. I get there a little late which forbade me from reading this "Note from the Director" in the program prior to the play. I don't always read these. I think perhaps from now on I will. 

In the play Sir Hugo (played by Davison) is confronted by Carlotta (played by Lawrence) who is threatening to out him with letters of a long ago love affair with a man. Married for 20 years, and having become quite a famous writer, and yes, even knighted, the thought of having the love of his life revealed is terrifying.

I had previously read and forgotten the details of Gielgud's arrest mentioned below. Shame on me. Shame on all of us that gay men and women have to continue to fight to love who they wish to love.

Art Manke writes:

Love Will Be Found the Sweetest Song of All

After a couple of post-rehearsal drinks one evening in October 1953, the great English actor Sir John Gielgud (1904-2000) paid a visit to one of Chelsea's infamous underground lavatories to seek out companionship for the evening. Before gay clubs, bars, and online dating sites, this was a common practice among men seeking men in this west London neighborhood. On this particular night however, the man who smiled back at Sir John was a member of Scotland Yard's so-called Pretty Police: young recruits picked for their good looks and stationed there to entrap homosexuals. The next morning, Gielgud - who was identified as "John Smith" on the charge sheet -- was let off with a minor fine and urged to see a doctor. At a time when 12 to 18 months in prison was considered a lenient sentence, he was able to walk away virtually unscathed, or so he thought. Unfortunately, Gielgud's inimitable voice was recognized by a journalist who covered the arraignment, and by that afternoon, "Sir John Gielgud Fined" was the headline in the London Evening Standard newspaper. This led to the most sensational coverage of homosexuality in print since Oscar Wilde's trial in 1895.

Although he was able to continue working in the English theatre because of the staunch support of his fellow actors and producers and his adoring public, it would be another four years before he could travel to the United States due to the "moral turpitude" clause in its entry visas. He suffered a nervous breakdown, seriously considered suicide, and endured ongoing humiliation at the hands of conservative journalists and politicians who called for him to be stripped of his knighthood. Although attitudes about homosexuality started to evolve during Sir John's lifetime, and the United Kingdom's 1967 Sexual Offences Act decriminalized homosexual acts between consenting men, he carried the shame of the arrest to his grave almost half a century later.

It is important to know that A Song at Twilight was written and first performed in 1966, one year before the British Parliament ended its draconian punishment of homosexuals. So in the play, it is no wonder why Sir Hugo Latymer responds the way he does to Carlotta's proposition. Sir Hugo's every moment of existence is colored by fear of exposure, which playwright Noel Coward knew only too well, as did Somerset Maugham, Terence Rattigan, Emlyn Williams, Michael Redgrave, and countless other gay artists who carefully and methodically avoided "outing" in their lifetimes. The real loss for Sir Hugo is that he allowed that fear to prevent him from ever experiencing real love and true intimacy.

The play's title comes from the popular Victorian-era Irish song, "Loves Old Sweet Song (Just a Song at Twilight)," and the lyrics tell us:

So till the end, when life's dim shadows fall,

Love will be found the sweetest song of all.

Superhero of Love in Training Gets Ass Kicked By The Cable Guy

A “Superhero of Love” kicks ass in the world of love.  She has a knack for loving herself and others, and has that extra boost of inner strength from being connected to the source of all love.

I consider myself a Superhero of Love in constant training.  Recently, everything in my Superhero of Love world got twisted up: I got my ass kicked by the cable guy. 

I was switching from DirecTV to Time Warner so a technician had to come to my house.  I was told he would call 30 minutes before arriving to let me know he was on the way.  Instead, I looked up when my dogs started madly barking to see a man peering through the window in my kitchen door.  I was in the middle of working and wasn’t keen on this instantly creepy surprise. 

I ushered him in and walked briskly toward the TV/cable box.  He walked slowly behind me – practically meandering -- looking around my house, into my bedroom, etc. I got right to business. I told him where all the outdoor cable locations were and motioned to my desk telling him I would be working but available for any questions. 

He sat down on the couch like he lived here, and chatted casually about life.   I just wanted to get away from him.  He sensed this and said he’d need to check the phone and internet cables, which he had seen were under my desk.  I told them there were no issues there but he insisted.  He took advantage of my needing to wait for him to ask me questions about myself.   I gave curt but friendly answers hoping to speed things along.

The phone rang and I said I had to get it.  He replied “Take your time, baby.” 

Yep, he called me “baby.” 

He ended up calling me baby over the course of his time at my house three times.  And I said nothing each and every time. 

He then went outside to check cables and dealt with a wasp nest.  He came back in and asked to wash his hands. I motioned to the kitchen sink and saw that the blender was in it. I hesitated but said he could use the bathroom.  I quickly cleaned the blender and then noticed he was taking an inordinate amount of time to clean his hands.  He was in there several more minutes in silence. 

He finally came out and then went back outside for another round with the cables and wasps.  A short while later he asked to use the “restroom” and I told him the sink was now clear.  He said he needed to use the restroom.   He went into the bathroom for several minutes and didn’t flush the toilet or turn on the water this time.  I stood silent several feet away listening to try to figure out what he was doing.

He finally came back out and sat back down on the couch, hooked up the box and said as if he was about to start watching a really great movie, “OK, let’s see if there’s any porn in here.”  I exclaimed “Whaaaaaaaaat?!”  He replied that sometimes the cable boxes have porn left on them.  I said “Well get it off if it’s there.”  He said “Well the last lady it happened to, I told her I’d take it off but she said she’d take it off later herself.”  He gave me a knowing look.  I made it clear I didn’t want it on there.

After everything was connected and he was waiting for the box to connect he mentioned porn again.  I walked away from him and said “I don’t have time for that crap.”  He replied “EVERYONE has time for PORN!” as if it were the tag line for a new game show.

A few minutes later he left, handing me his card with his personal cell number handwritten on it, warning, “But don’t tell your husband I gave you my card.  He’d be mad.”

I shut the door.  My one act of defiance during the entire incident was shutting the door without responding to his final fishing expedition. 

Superhero, my ass!

After two weeks of trying to report this to his supervisor – who closed the complaint without ever speaking to me -- I finally reached someone in the security division of Time Warner.  The investigator spoke to the technician who admitted to sitting on my couch, going to the bathroom twice, and giving me his card.   After that interview was completed, I was informed by the investigator that my claim was “unsubstantiated.”  I felt like I had been kicked in the stomach.  I noted that I would have had to have a camera running the entire time to have this documented.  He sheepishly admitted this was true.  He assured me a file was opened, and that the allegations were taken seriously.  I was dumbfounded that this was the first file opened for this guy.  He had his routine down.

But I had my routine down too: Miss Nicey Nice.

When the investigator first interviewed me about all the details of this incident, he asked “Did you tell him to not call you ‘baby’?”  I paused, ashamed that I hadn’t, and replied that I was trying to keep the peace and just have him get the job done and get out of there as soon as possible.  It’s what I do: make nice even when someone is being wildly inappropriate with me.

There is no excuse for my allowing him to call me “baby” three times, mention porn another three times, and generally stomp all over my boundaries.   

Clearly I dropped my cape and mask somewhere.  It’s time to find them.  I’m going to get myself to a self-defense class because I want to get more intimately in touch with my “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” which is a tool every Superhero of Love must also have.  Sometimes to truly love ourselves, we have to be kick-ass boundary-building bitches.