Danielle Steel's Blog, page 63

More on Music

As I said, I seem to be in a music mode at the moment. I am working on a book, but very excited about the lyrics I wrote this summer. I hope you'll be hearing more about that soon.

Meanwhile, I have one daughter who, like her older brother Nick was, is obsessed with music. She has very definite, distinctive tastes, is knowledgeable about current music, and seems to know every band playing. She goes out to some form of music show every night (she's a senior in college). Music is her passion!!! She also knows all the venues, and she never invites me to join her at the concerts and shows she goes to. That's HER world!!! And I respect that. But recently, she made an exception, and invited me to join her at a concert on her birthday, along with some of her friends. (I almost never achieve 'cool' status when my kids are younger. I only get slightly more 'cool' as they get older!! And more tolerant!!). I was very excited to be invited to a concert with her, and intrigued that it was going to be at the Fillmore Auditorium in San Francisco. I've heard about it for years, and it is a very famous venue. I had no idea what to expect, and was curious to see it. But how special or exciting could a music venue/concert hall be? The answer to that is 'Very'.

We entered the theater through a single door with the usual suspicious looking, very stern, slightly ominous security people outside. I was very insulted however that no one asked for my ID (boo hoo), but they checked everyone else diligently, and then we headed up the stairs. And what struck me immediately as we entered the lobby outside the main concert hall was that this was no ordinary theater. It had the instant aura of history, with framed photographs of all the famous people who played there in the 60′s and 70′s when it started. Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, and all the faces of a long lost time. And I'm not even sure why, but there was an instantly friendly, cozy atmosphere that reminded me of those days, in my youth. I was never part of the music scene, having married someone much older when I was 17. And at the age when my contemporaries were going to concerts, I was in college at 15, and then married and had a child in my teens. So rock concerts were never my thing. I was going to dinner parties with my French banker husband as his child bride. And THIS was a whole other scene, the world of Jimi, Janis, and all those immensely talented people who were casualties of an era, and have long since disappeared. It was almost as though one could sense them there, as benign spirits. The Fillmore seemed like a throwback to me of those early days of hippiedom and flower power, and so much hope for the future, a new era, and a generation who demanded and established change. The Fillmore almost seemed like a monument, and even shrine, to that time.

We went upstairs to a kind of balcony, looking down at the floor of the theater. There were no seats downstairs, everyone was standing, and in the darkened room, the band came on, and everything came alive. I'm embarrassed to tell you that I don't know what kind of music it was, what genre, and don't remember the name of the band (a long name!!), but the music was great, the beat was good, and the crowd loved it (and so did I). They swayed and waved to the music. It was mesmerizing. My daughter and her friends loved it, and so did I. And upstairs where we were, there were seats and tables, and walls covered by more of the framed photographs of an earlier time. I felt enveloped all night by the aura and spirit of those earlier singers, once so beloved, so famous, so talented, who changed the whole music scene, many of whom died so much too young. There wasn't an eeriness to it, and it wasn't sad, it filled me with a kind of awe and respect, and nostalgia as I remembered them. It was impressive to think that they had played in this same hall where I was standing, and it must be equally impressive for the musicians who play there now. Imagine playing on the same stage where Janis Joplin once played and others like her. I couldn't voice my feeling of nostalgia to my daughter and her friends, they were too young to understand—-and it would only have confirmed how 'un-cool' I am. A friend had come with me, who is between the generation I was remembering, and the young ones now, he's a great music fan, and admirer of Joplin, Hendrix and the others, and when we spoke about it later, he had the same feeling I did, that we were standing in hallowed halls. It really touched me, and it was a wonderful evening in a remarkable and truly historical place. I really loved it!!

Standing there, I also couldn't help remembering Bill Graham, who founded The Fillmore all those many years ago. He was a truly remarkable man. I met him several times when I first came to San Francisco, and had dinner with him a few times. He was totally immersed in that exciting music world. I was in my twenties by then, the sixties were long past, but he ran a remarkable music venue, and had established an important institution in the history of that time. He was an intriguing person, who had survived the holocaust, although he had lost almost all of his family (except one sister, I think). He had a son he adored, and told me that he had survived most of the Second World War in Germany, hiding on the streets, as a child and young teenager. I didn't pry about his experiences, but one could tell that they had formed a remarkable person, tough, strong, creative, a genius in his field with his finger on the pulse of the musical world, and yet a person of great tenderness and humanity. He had clearly lived an interesting life, and left an extraordinary legacy behind. I was saddened when a few years later he died in a helicopter accident at a relatively young age. But he left something very special behind for so many people to enjoy and remember him: The Fillmore is a monument to the man, that remarkable time and the people who played there. I was very moved by being there, and even now, it is a very, very special place, and a part of history, culturally and in the music world, that we will all remember forever. And even now, the music goes on…….

Love, Danielle

More Music

As I said, I seem to be in a music mode at the moment. I am working on a book, but very excited about the lyrics I wrote this summer. I hope you'll be hearing more about that soon.

Meanwhile, I have one daughter who, like her older brother Nick was, is obsessed with music. She has very definite, distinctive tastes, is knowledgeable about current music, and seems to know every band playing. She goes out to some form of music show every night (she's a senior in college). Music is her passion!!! She also knows all the venues, and she never invites me to join her at the concerts and shows she goes to. That's HER world!!! And I respect that. But recently, she made an exception, and invited me to join her at a concert on her birthday, along with some of her friends. (I almost never achieve 'cool' status when my kids are younger. I only get slightly more 'cool' as they get older!! And more tolerant!!). I was very excited to be invited to a concert with her, and intrigued that it was going to be at the Fillmore Auditorium in San Francisco. I've heard about it for years, and it is a very famous venue. I had no idea what to expect, and was curious to see it. But how special or exciting could a music venue/concert hall be? The answer to that is 'Very'.

We entered the theater through a single door with the usual suspicious looking, very stern, slightly ominous security people outside. I was very insulted however that no one asked for my ID (boo hoo), but they checked everyone else diligently, and then we headed up the stairs. And what struck me immediately as we entered the lobby outside the main concert hall was that this was no ordinary theater. It had the instant aura of history, with framed photographs of all the famous people who played there in the 60′s and 70′s when it started. Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, and all the faces of a long lost time. And I'm not even sure why, but there was an instantly friendly, cozy atmosphere that reminded me of those days, in my youth. I was never part of the music scene, having married someone much older when I was 17. And at the age when my contemporaries were going to concerts, I was in college at 15, and then married and had a child in my teens. So rock concerts were never my thing. I was going to dinner parties with my French banker husband as his child bride. And THIS was a whole other scene, the world of Jimi, Janis, and all those immensely talented people who were casualties of an era, and have long since disappeared. It was almost as though one could sense them there, as benign spirits. The Fillmore seemed like a throwback to me of those early days of hippiedom and flower power, and so much hope for the future, a new era, and a generation who demanded and established change. The Fillmore almost seemed like a monument, and even shrine, to that time.

We went upstairs to a kind of balcony, looking down at the floor of the theater. There were no seats downstairs, everyone was standing, and in the darkened room, the band came on, and everything came alive. I'm embarrassed to tell you that I don't know what kind of music it was, what genre, and don't remember the name of the band (a long name!!), but the music was great, the beat was good, and the crowd loved it (and so did I). They swayed and waved to the music. It was mesmerizing. My daughter and her friends loved it, and so did I. And upstairs where we were, there were seats and tables, and walls covered by more of the framed photographs of an earlier time. I felt enveloped all night by the aura and spirit of those earlier singers, once so beloved, so famous, so talented, who changed the whole music scene, many of whom died so much too young. There wasn't an eeriness to it, and it wasn't sad, it filled me with a kind of awe and respect, and nostalgia as I remembered them. It was impressive to think that they had played in this same hall where I was standing, and it must be equally impressive for the musicians who play there now. Imagine playing on the same stage where Janis Joplin once played and others like her. I couldn't voice my feeling of nostalgia to my daughter and her friends, they were too young to understand—-and it would only have confirmed how 'un-cool' I am. A friend had come with me, who is between the generation I was remembering, and the young ones now, he's a great music fan, and admirer of Joplin, Hendrix and the others, and when we spoke about it later, he had the same feeling I did, that we were standing in hallowed halls. It really touched me, and it was a wonderful evening in a remarkable and truly historical place. I really loved it!!

Standing there, I also couldn't help remembering Bill Graham, who founded The Fillmore all those many years ago. He was a truly remarkable man. I met him several times when I first came to San Francisco, and had dinner with him a few times. He was totally immersed in that exciting music world. I was in my twenties by then, the sixties were long past, but he ran a remarkable music venue, and had established an important institution in the history of that time. He was an intriguing person, who had survived the holocaust, although he had lost almost all of his family (except one sister, I think). He had a son he adored, and told me that he had survived most of the Second World War in Germany, hiding on the streets, as a child and young teenager. I didn't pry about his experiences, but one could tell that they had formed a remarkable person, tough, strong, creative, a genius in his field with his finger on the pulse of the musical world, and yet a person of great tenderness and humanity. He had clearly lived an interesting life, and left an extraordinary legacy behind. I was saddened when a few years later he died in a helicopter accident at a relatively young age. But he left something very special behind for so many people to enjoy and remember him: The Fillmore is a monument to the man, that remarkable time and the people who played there. I was very moved by being there, and even now, it is a very, very special place, and a part of history, culturally and in the music world, that we will all remember forever. And even now, the music goes on…….

Love, Danielle

Snoop Dog: More on the Event

I seem to be on some kind of music path these days, with the lyrics I've been writing for an album (I hope!!), I'm more attuned to music related happenings and events, and I seem to run into music events now everywhere.

And it was a MAJOR WOW!!!!! What an event, what a party, what a location!!! An empty warehouse had been transformed into a giant living room, broken into groups, with comfortable couches, big easy chairs, and coffee tables and soft lighting. There was a buffet of fabulous food a mile long, the place was crowded with attractive young people, everyone was having fun. I ran into my youngest daughter and oldest son, and we were all surprised to see each other (what are YOU doing here? except of course my niece had invited all of us). And the food was really delicious, I hadn't had time to eat all day, and I can't believe I'm telling you this, but the mini donuts were so good that I ate 8 of them!!! (Don't tell!!! There was also a fabulous seafood buffet, but I'm allergic to fish….but I am definitely NOT allergic to donuts!!).

And after a while, just enjoying the atmosphere and chatting with a few people I knew, and seeing my niece for a few minutes, the bands came on. The Killers played (which my daughter had come to see. And I had no idea who they were), then Jane's Addiction (which was nostalgia for me, since I remembered that they had been the favorite band of my late son Nick when he was in his teens). And then Snoop Dog came on and did his fantastic rap act, and it was soooooo much fun I can't tell you. And I will tell you honestly, that I don't play Rap music in my car or at home. I know the names of the really famous rappers, but this is definitely not my area of expertise, but it was so much fun, he was sooooo 'cool', and he put on such a great show, that everyone had a ball and so did I. It was so out of the ordinary for me that I loved it. I was so happy I'd come. The atmosphere was one of joy and excitement, and just good feelings. The whole room full of people loved it, and so did I. Very, very cool!!!

And after the performance (okay, and a few more donuts), I went home, having had a fabulous evening, totally forgotten that I hadn't slept the night before, and I just had a great time. It was worth the effort to go for sure, and so much more fun that sitting at home reading a book on my bed, and it reminded me yet again that "why not?" is just about always the best decision, and not making that choice can really deprive you of some fun times. I really had a ball. And now I feel very 'cool' having seen Snoop Dog perform. It was a win-win evening all around. I had a fantastic time!!! (And ten minutes after I got home, I was in bed and sound asleep.)

Love, Danielle

Amazing Night

I had to share an amazing evening that I had recently—–a very unusual evening for me.

I recently came back to San Francisco, from Paris, on one of those nightmarish trips, common in air travel today. I flew from Paris to New York, and from there was heading back to San Francisco. It's a 5 and a half to 6 hour flight, from NY to SF, and shouldn't be a big deal….right??? Well, air travel doesn't work that way these days. I got to the airport even though I have every imaginable Frequent Flyer card and membership, since I commute between Paris and SF many times a year, as I live in both cities and travel back and forth a lot, for work, and to see my kids.  This time, I got to the airport in New York, checked in at the counter, and was summarily told by the ticket agent that I had been bumped off my flight. It had a mechanical problem and had been oversold. Bumped?? Bumped???? Are you kidding? Not because I'm so fabulously important, but I do have some kind of VIP status, and all the frequent flyer stuff. With those credentials, I'm not supposed to get bumped, but I was. (And I was not happy about it, to say the least). After making a huge fuss about it, they put me on the next flight, but at a lesser level, as they had no good seats left. It took forever to find me a seat on the later flight; my luggage was taken off the plane, and then put on the next one. It was a pretty chaotic scene, with other people who had been bumped, and were also trying to get on the next plane. The second flight was then delayed, and in the process of switching flights, two of my bags went astray. So I arrived in SF long after midnight, got home at nearly 2 am, (minus two bags, which showed up the following afternoon), and I had been in transit door to door for nearly 14 hours……I'm sure it's happened to you too, but situations like that make travelling exhausting.

I got home and found a mountain of work on my desk, tried to deal with some of it that night, and unpack my suitcases, and I never left my desk that night. By the time I finished the most pressing things on my desk, I looked up and it was 7am.  And my first meeting was at 8:30, so I never got to bed that night, and figured I'd catch up on my sleep with a nap in the afternoon (ha!!! that never happens), or just go to bed early that night. I had no plans to go out.  And round about 4:30 that afternoon, I was amazed to find I wasn't tired, but kept busy with my work. And then suddenly I got an email from my niece who lives in London, and she emailed me that she had organized a corporate event in SF, it was that night, and she invited me to come. At first, I was absolutely convinced that I would be dead on my feet by evening and it would be crazy to try and go out. I debated for a while, and then decided to do it anyway, even if I was tired. The evening my niece had organized sounded like a great party, and there were going to be 3 live bands there, all of whom are famous and very good. They were The Killers, Jane's Addiction and Snoop Dog. I'm certainly not a heavy Rap fan, but it sounded like an exciting evening to me. The party was being given by one of the founders of Facebook, and I was sure it would be an interesting crowd (and I wasn't wrong).

I bathed, washed my hair, and got all dressed up (in leather pants, t-shirt and leather jacket), put on make-up and high heels, and by the time I got to the location of the party, I had been up for nearly 2 days, with no sleep at all the night before (I never even went to bed, so I could deal with everything on my desk). And the weirdest thing of all was that I wasn't even tired. I felt fine. I have no idea what gave me the energy for that night, but I had no sense of jet lag, having travelled, or being wiped out. So off I went to the party, and found myself at a fantastic party, with about 200 people in an enormous warehouse that had been fully decorated and perfectly set up like a series of very comfortable living rooms, with couches and furniture, and it all looked both comfortable and very chic. It was a spectacular setting, and the food on the seemingly endless buffet looked delicious and proved to be as good as it looked. Not to mention the food that was passed around the room, including absolutely fantastic little freshly made donuts, which I surrendered to immediately.

It was one of those evenings that are full of life, electricity and excitement, beyond anything you could imagine or expect. I mostly went to lend my support to my niece in her work project, and ended up enjoying myself sooooo much more than I had dreamed.  The first two bands were good and I know they're famous, but when Snoop Dog came on, he knocked my socks off.  He had a power and presence and charisma that thrilled the crowd and his very theatrical performance was dazzling—even for someone like me who isn't all that familiar with Rap. It was a knock out!! And I had a ball. I danced, I ate, I was bowled over by Snoop Dog's performance—-I had a blast. I was so happy that I didn't give in to travel fatigue, put my clothes on, went out, and experienced something new, different, and exciting. I had a terrific evening. And when it was all over, I came home, fell into bed with a big smile and fell asleep.  I had such a great time!!!

Love, Danielle

Wedding

I went to a wonderful wedding recently in France. Actually in the South of France, and it was a perfect time of year for it, in September, with gorgeous balmy weather, and I don't think I've ever been to a wedding which touched me more. People had come from all over the world for it, from Japan, Vietnam, India, the US, and all over Europe.  And the wedding was held in the medieval town of St. Paul de Vance in the South of France.

The festivities began the night before, with a fun dinner at a local bistro for all 150 guests, many of whom were children, who were included at all the events. So everyone got to meet, greet, eat, and hang out together, enjoy a great dinner, and see old friends, and meet new ones. As with all weddings, everyone was excited and happy to be there. (I came from San Francisco for it, through Hurricane Irene in New York, where I got stuck for several days, and made it to Paris just in time to pick up my suitcases and head for the South of France. And others had come from a lot farther than I did, so we were ALL excited to be there).

And the next day was the big day. We were to meet in the public square in St. Paul de Vance, which is about half an hour inland from the coast of the French Riviera. And the old part of the town is for pedestrians only, and the church is on top of a hill. All l50 wedding guests walked the bride and groom up the hill to the church, up narrow (about 5 feet wide at most, and sometimes only 4 feet) cobbled, stone paved streets (we had been warned not to wear high heels, fortunately, and those who hadn't heeded the advice, wound up taking off their shoes, and walking up the hill barefoot). It was about a ten or fifteen minute walk, as locals lined the street and smiled as we went by.

The church was exquisite and tiny, filled with beautiful flowers, and the church service (a traditional Catholic mass) was very touching. Members of the family read from the Bible, and there were scores of adorably dressed children in the church. The French don't have adult bridesmaids, they have children in the wedding. And almost all the wedding guests were wearing beautiful hats. The bride looked beautiful, and both the bride and groom cried during the service, as did many of us. It was just perfect and very touching.

After the church service, several locals in 'Provencal' costumes were waiting outside (with aprons and caps), little children with the same costumes, and drummers to announce the good news, as people cheered along the narrow cobbled street as we made our way down to the public square again. There, a Southern treat had been set up, a special oven to make something local called 'Soca', which is a bit like pizza, made with chick peas. It was delicious!!! And after that and a lot of champagne, some people went off to fancy lunches, and others went back to their hotels to relax (I was one of those, the Soca was enough for me, and it was yummy).

I spent the afternoon relaxing, and the wedding reception was that night, at a beautiful beachside restaurant with a private beach and a dock. Cocktails were on the dock, dinner was in the open air restaurant, and the kids were playing on the beach (until the music started). There was a fabulous buffet, lots of speeches, fascinating guests, and the music and dancing were terrific!!! One of the family members (the bride's mother) even sang "La Vie en Rose" to the bridal couple. And everyone had a ball on the dance floor. I think people danced til 4 am. I didn't get back to my hotel until 4:30, so it was a lively group, and it was one of the best weddings I've ever been to. I talked, danced, and laughed all night. And I was told that after I left, the remaining guests went swimming, so they went home even later.

We were all back at the same spot at noon the next day, for a massive buffet lunch, more swimming, and chatting with the other guests. I left the party around five in the afternoon, as I had to change, pack and catch an 8 pm plane back to Paris.

It was an absolutely wonderful weekend, and a truly beautiful wedding. And unlike a lot of weddings (which can be incredibly dull, but this one sure wasn't. Even the guests were great!!), I had an absolute ball. So I wanted to share it with you. It was one of the best weddings I've ever been to!!!!

Love, Danielle

Extraordinary Woman

I just read an amazing book, called "A Stolen Life", which is a memoir written by Jaycee Dugard, the woman who was abducted/kidnapped in California at age 11, and held captive by her abductor and his wife for 18 years. I believe she was found a year ago, by sheer accident. During her captivity, she gave birth to 2 daughters (at age 14 and 17), fathered by her kidnapper, and she and her daughters were freed together, and are now leading a normal life, reunited with Ms. Dugard's family, and rediscovering the world in her case after 18 years of isolation, and her daughters are discovering the world for the first time.

Her story, and what happened to her, is every parent's worst nightmare, or second worst. A parent's worst nightmare being the death of a child. But this comes as a very close second. Abduction while an innocent child is walking to school, stolen from a mother who loved her and never gave up hope of finding her again. Torture, isolation, rape, living in horrifying conditions, hidden and locked up and often handcuffed in a backyard compound by a man who was a convicted felon, and his wife who was his willing accomplice for 18 years, giving birth to 2 babies when she was barely more than a baby herself, and then trying to take care of and protect her daughters. Her fear of offending her captors, her hopelessness of being able to get away and ever see her family again, her acute loneliness for 18 years, and surely despair, the incredible trauma she went through. And yet she tells her story simply, and quietly, without sensationalism, but with gentle grace and honesty. The story simply is what it is, and you can sense her quiet striving for normalcy now, her gratitude to be reunited with her family, and her determination to make a good life for her daughters. Jaycee Dugard is truly an amazing woman. Remarkable in every way.  She has come through an experience that would destroy most people, and break the spirit of people older and stronger than she was at the age she was abducted. It was no less awful than being in a prison camp, or a prisoner of war, tortured and humiliated and humbled. And yet, it is extraordinary what the human spirit can survive. And clearly, Jaycee Dugard has survived it as a whole person, with dignity and grace.

I was enormously impressed by the woman, and saddened by what happened to her. She was the victim of unthinkable emotional and physical abuse, and yet has come through it admirably. I wish her well in the life she will lead now. When you think of what you were doing 18 years ago, you realize how long that span of time is. My children were tiny then, and are now adults, with jobs after college, except the youngest who is still in college, and would have been a toddler then. My marriage lasted 18 years, which seems a very long, respectable length of time these days. We've been through several presidents. She was abducted for nearly 2 decades, was taken as an 11 year old, and rescued at nearly 30. How lucky her mother was to find her again, and how incredible that she always believed she would see her daughter again. How did she not give up hope? How did she stand the not knowing? How did Jaycee live through it? The book, the story, and the woman who survived it are haunting.

I admire her remarkable uncrushable spirit. There is not an ounce of bitterness in the book, only the simple facts, and her story told in a straightforward way. She has my admiration, compassion, and very, very best wishes that life will be kind to her in future. And I think it is wonderful that she had the courage to write the book. It will help others not give up hope, in less daunting circumstances, and is a tribute to her as a survivor.

I wanted to share this remarkable book with you. It is horrifying that things like this happen, even more so, that her captor was on parole, parole agents came to the house regularly to check on him, and never discovered the secret backyard where she and her daughters were hidden, and she was often handcuffed, locked in a small hut, and existed for 18 years.  May something like this never, ever happen again.

Love, Danielle

Nick

Although it's a sad subject, I cant let this date go by, without paying some kind of homage to my late son Nick. He died 14 years ago tomorrow, and it's hard to believe it's been that long, when he committed suicide at the age of 19. He had suffered from bi-polar disease all his life. I had first noticed it when he was 18 months old, standing in front of me in a yellow bunny suit/sleeper with feet. It was totally obvious by the time he was 4. Undeniable at 7, and finally, finally diagnosed at 15, and medicated at 16. In those days, psychiatrists refused to diagnose bi-polar until people were in their twenties, and wouldn't medicate it until then. Getting him medication for it, and a diagnosis, at 15 and 16 was practically a miracle then. Today, children are diagnosed at 4 and 5 and medicated for it immediately. Thank God, times have changed. And maybe my voice has helped a little. I wrote a book about his life, and illness, called "His Bright Light", it came out a year after he died.

There is no denying that Nick's brief 19 years were a rocky road. Anyone who lives with someone who is mentally ill can tell you it's not easy. But to be fair, it's not unlivable every day. Like any other illness, it goes in fits and spurts. There are good days and bad days, good periods and bad ones, moments that rip your heart out, or you want to tear your hair out, and other times when things are calm. There were a lot of great, great moments with Nick, and aside from the illness, he was an extraordinary person, had a brilliant mind, a huge writing and musical talent, and a sense of humor that could knock you flat on your ass laughing. And during his good times, he was one of the most loving people I have ever known. He was a singer, musician, composer, lyricist, song writer, and he played in a band (Link 80) that was just starting to become successful shortly before he died. (And started another band called 'Knowledge" right before he died. The CD's of both those bands he played with are still around). He packed a lot into his 19 years, and led a full and rewarding life. He got more in than some people who live to be 90. And I am grateful for every moment we had with him.

September 20th is the anniversary of the day he died. it was an unforgettably awful day, and a day I have a hard time with every year. Anniversaries of the day we lose people are hard for everyone. Some years are worse than others. And however brief, his life was a bright shining light, a beacon to all those who knew him, and even those who read about him now. He didn't survive his illness, but he put up a hell of a good fight, and I cant blame him for giving up. He just couldn't stand the pain anymore. Suicide is never the right solution, it is always the wrong way out. But it is the one he chose, and those of us who loved him have to live with it. It will be a quiet day of reflection for me, of missing him as I always do, and a little more on that day, as I inevitably remember what an awful day that was. But in counterpoint to that, there were so many wonderful days with him, so many happy times, so many joys, so many gifts of having him in our lives. I am grateful for every moment that we shared with him. And somewhere out there in the Heavens, there is the brightest  star, the boy who was my son Nick…..thank you for sharing the memories with me. I know you would have loved him, and had a great time with him, we all did. He was such a special boy, and always will be to me…..my bright shining Nick…..I hope he is happy where he is.

Love,  Danielle

Ten Years Later

I think yesterday was a serious day for everyone, remembering the events of September 11th, ten years ago. I think it was the first attack we have ever had on mainland America, and I think it gave all of us a sense of frightening vulnerability, realizing how hard and how easily we could be hit.

We all have our memories of that day. The shock, the disbelief, the horror, the amazement. I don't think any of us felt safe for a long time after.

It was 6am in California when the first plane hit the tower. I was in San Francisco, sound asleep, when my children's English nanny woke me up, very formally. She startled me when she woke up, and even more so with what she said. It was like a bad dream. "I regret to tell you that America is under attack", she said. By what? By whom? No one attacks America, but they did. I jumped out of bed and turned on the TV, and was horrified by what I saw. And I was frightened too because I had two daughters in college in the East. One was living within blocks of the World Trade Center in New York, and the other in Washington, DC, within blocks of the Pentagon. The one in New York was aware of what was happening, the one in DC was sound asleep, and I told her what had happened (she didn't believe me), and I told her to look out her window and she could see the billowing smoke rising from the Pentagon. I was worried about both of them, since none of us knew if there would be further attacks.  All I could think of was how to get them home. My mother was living in New York too then, and I was worried about her as well.

Like everyone else, I watched TV all day, with two friends. We watched all the astounding images cross the screen. The second tower being hit, the building coming down. The unforgettably awful images of people leaping from windows. The voices from the plane that went down. A woman I knew was on one of the planes that hit the Tower, although I didn't know her well. And a close friend had changed her travel plans and come home the day before. Destiny, how strangely it affects us. The people who missed those flights (one of my son's friends missed two of them, by oversleeping for one flight, and being caught in traffic for the other), and the people who were on them after changing plans. It was such a stark reminder that you never know what will happen, or where you are meant to be. I think of it sometimes when I change flights at the last minute.

I don't think any of us will ever forget that day. We have all seen natural disasters, and been horrified by the devastation. But devastation caused by humans seems so much worse in some ways, the evil that people can do to each other, intentionally. How can anyone ever believe that that is the right thing to do?

The eeriness of our air space being closed for nearly a week, as I recall, and no one being able to travel. The people trapped in Gander, when planes had to land because they couldn't enter the US. The brave firemen and rescue workers who gave their lives. So many incidents, large and small, so much bravery, so many losses, so many people affected by what happened. Someone said at the time that air travel would never be the same again, and they were right. Think of the security lines we stand on now, the bare feet on airport floors, the million things we have to take off and put in plastic bins, our belts, our cell phones, our jewelry, as we go through metal detectors, the liquids we can't carry, even a full tube of toothpaste can be confiscated. The pat downs, the dusting for explosives. And probably a terrorist could still get through if they really tried. I'm not sure any of us have really felt totally secure again.

For a long time after 9/11, I wouldn't let my kids go to major sporting events, or Disneyland, for fear that there would be another big attack. Shopping malls seemed dangerous, or anywhere that large crowds congregated, which would make a likely target to affect large numbers of people. I worried more about my kids.

Ever since that day, each of my children calls me before they get on a plane, just to tell me they love me and to say goodbye. It started on the first flight they each took after 9/11, and they still do it ten years later. And I have to admit, so do I. They call me either walking through the airport, or from the plane before they have to turn off their phones. And since there are so many of them, I call them all on the way to the airport. But I know what that goodbye means when they call me….it's their 'just in case' something happens, I love you, Mom, which always touches my heart. I don't think any of us will ever be quite the same, or have the same confidence and trust we had before that attack.  And if we, who were so removed from it, on the far side of the country, having lost none of our loved ones as the building was hit and then fell, I can only imagine how people felt, and still feel, who lost people they loved on 9/11.  And now ten years later, my heart goes out to them again.  We will always remember what happened on that day, and think with quiet remembrance of the people who were lost. May nothing like it ever happen in this country again.

Love, Danielle

The Sounds of Music

I recently had a wonderful, fun experience that I wanted to share with you. A young composer I know, and a young singer, both with great talent, contacted me early this summer and asked me if I would be willing to write lyrics for them for some original songs. Initially, my reaction was that it would be too complicated. The composer lives in Paris, the singer in London, and I float around between Paris and the States, California and New York. And I had never done anything like this before, but after some hesitation (not sure if I could do it), I decided to give it a whirl.

First, I wrote some poems in French, then the composer showed me how to break them into 'couplets' (in French, which tell the story), then I added the refrain. The number of beats in each couplet, and the refrain, were very important. It was a whole new language of creativity for me, which made it that much more exciting to work on. Meanwhile, the composer worked on music to go with what I'd written (and I love his music!!). We're still working on it, and I love all that I'm learning. I wrote the lyrics in French, and then translated them into English as well, and the composer created music to go with my words. And on the last song, he wrote the music, and I tailored the lyrics to work with it. This has been so much fun, and so educational for me. What a fascinating process, and whereas my normal work is so solitary, this is a real collaboration, and it's so much fun to work on this together, and have company (the composer) while I do it. I hope the final result is good.

For now, we have a very rough version of one song, on CD, with both lyrics and music, in French. The composer still needs to polish up the music, and do the arrangements, and the singer needs to rehearse what we've done. In time, we will make proper recordings of all these songs, with full implementation of music and lyrics, in both languages. It is REALLY exciting for me. It has been a very exciting process, and a real joy to work in collaboration with two very talented people. We made 5 songs in all, and will do polished recordings of them. I try to take a break from writing in the summer, so this was a perfect time for me to work on it.

Anyway, I wanted to share that with you. The young composer spent hours with me, working on these songs. He brought a portable electric keyboard, and we sat at my kitchen table, working on all the songs.  I had an absolutely terrific time doing it—–and I hope you'll be hearing more about these songs soon!!! The sounds of music were echoing in my kitchen this summer!!!!!!

Love, Danielle

Waiting for the Big One

Hi Everyone,

Well, it has certainly been an interesting week, full of unexpected adventures.

On my way back to Paris, I stopped in New York to see one of my daughters, and had heard of the hurricane warnings for New York. I have to admit, I wasn't unduly surprised or concerned about it, because in late August/early September, there are frequently hurricane warnings in the East. And usually, the hurricanes blow themselves out at sea, or turn in some other direction, and I have never encountered one in New York. But this time, as we all know, Hurricane Irene stayed right on course heading for New York City. I took a red eye/overnight flight to New York, and arrived on the Friday morning, right before it was due to hit New York (on Saturday), and found my daughter in considerable distress. The hurricane was due to hit the city on Saturday night, and her apartment was deemed to be in the most dangerous zone for flooding, Zone A. An order to evacuate her area had been issued by the mayor and police, and she had to be out of her apartment by Saturday at 5pm. They were expecting up to 6 feet of flooding all around her, and police boats had already been brought into the area. No one was to be allowed to stay in their homes, or the entire area, in her neighborhood. She was in the dangerous Zone A.

I'd never faced anything like it before, and it was hard to know what to do. Get a moving truck and empty her apartment? Pile things up as high as we could? Cover everything in plastic? If her apartment wound up 6 feet underwater, none of our preparations would do us much good. And we were both torn between panic, listening to the news, or thinking it was all media hype and the hurricane would veer away in the end. We decided to take a serious middle ground, and respond to what we heard without going completely crazy. I went to the nearest hardware store after checking into my hotel, and stocked up on huge plastic tarps, tape to protect the windows, an attempt to buy flashlights was fruitless. I don't think there was a flashlight left to buy in the city, and batteries had become more precious than gold. I watched people practically riot when a truckload of flashlight batteries arrived at the hardware store. So we gave up on flashlights (she had two anyway), and got to work trying to protect her belongings as best we could. We managed to close some ancient metal shutters on her windows, lock all the windows, and realized that putting tape on the windows wouldn't do us much good. If the force of the hurricane was strong enough to blow in her windows, or some flying object came crashing through them, a little X of tape didn't seem like enough protection anyway, so we relied on the metal shutters and her double windows. There was talk of winds up to l50 mph, and the hurricane was classified as a 2. (With 5 as the worst case). And there was real fear of flooding, as she lives literally across the street from the river, and if indeed they got 6 feet of water in her street, as expected, her apartment would be underwater. It was a very distressing thought.

We worked feverishly to move her furniture away from windows, as suggested, stack things on top of others, put what we could in valises and boxes, and stacked that on top of furniture. We filled the bathrooms with many objects, as they were even farther from the windows, and covered everything with plastic tarps (including her rugs) and taped it thoroughly. Many times during the evening, we asked ourselves if we were being ridiculous. The weather was warm and balmy, it had been beautiful and sunny all day, there wasn't a hint of wind, and the idea that a hurricane was coming that might destroy major parts of the city seemed ridiculous. But we've all seen the destruction wrought by hurricanes, and Katrina is fresh in all our memories, so we continued to take it seriously, and protect everything we could. We emptied some of her closets, put clothes on racks and rolled them away, filled more suitcases, protected photographs that can't be replaced. Within a short time, her apartment looked like an unrecognizable war zone, and as though she was moving out that day.  The order was official by then, issued by the mayor that her entire neighborhood had to be evacuated by 5pm on Saturday. So it was very real.

We continued our work the next morning, and Saturday dawned gray and intermittently drizzly, but there was certainly no sign of a hurricane by then. I slept little the night before, as all you could hear all night were drills and hammers and people shouting, as local stores and restaurants and businesses in lower Manhattan boarded up their windows with plywood. Construction sites were being secured, cranes were being dismantled. New York was taking the threat seriously. Grocery stores were selling everything off the shelves in the morning on Saturday, and you had to wait on line behind fifty people to buy anything. People were buying water and food for the duration. Public transportation was due to stop at noon and 1pm. There were no buses or subways from then on, and there were rumors that taxis would stop working too. They closed the airport, tunnels, bridges were due to close any minute, and at 3pm we left her apartment with a few things and her dogs, and she joined me at my hotel. Those ordered to evacuate had to do so by 5pm, and everyone was strongly encouraged to be indoors and off the streets by 8 pm. By 4 pm, when we got to my hotel, every store, including drug stores and food stores, was closed, all restaurants, even in the non-evacuated zones. The only businesses that seemed to be open were bars, and city government also ordered that no alcohol be served after 8pm.  We were indoors at the hotel well before curfew, and spent hours watching the news and predictions on TV. By then Hurricane Irene had been downgraded to a Category 1 hurricane, and New York was still expected to flood in certain areas, and lose power extensively. Many hospitals had been evacuated. And the news was rife with reports of what was happening in states like North Carolina, as Irene finally hit land (which they said would lessen her strength, rather than if she stayed out to sea until New York). The hurricane was expected to hit the city sometime between midnight and 2 am. And it began raining hard as the evening wore on, lots of wind, some lightning, some rain, all of it pretty bearable, but everyone was afraid of what would happen when the hurricane finally hit in full force. All of New York was expecting the worst. And we had noticed all the big ships, and cruise ships, leaving the harbor on Saturday morning, the fear being that their moorings would not hold them, and they would then be in danger of banging into each other or the piers, so they headed out to sea long before the hurricane hit. (I would not have enjoyed being a passenger on a cruise ship, heading into a hurricane, or trying to outrun one!!!)

It was a long stressful evening, waiting for Hurricane Irene to hit, as we sat in our hotel room and watched the news hour after hour. By then, we were told it wouldn't hit until morning, and we finally went to bed but couldn't sleep. We'd been told to close shades and curtains and stay away from windows, in case they broke, but I kept peeking beyond the shades to look out the windows and see what was going on. Not much. Just rain and wind, but nothing I hadn't seen before in lesser summer storms. The storm was due to hit the city around 9am by then. And around 3:30, I finally fell asleep. Other friends were waiting to be pummeled by Irene at their beach homes on Long Island, and they said they had a long night too, waiting for the hurricane to hit. (Living in San Francisco part of the time, and for many years, it is always unnerving to experience an earthquake, which gives no warning, and suddenly begins to shake—like the nasty one in l989. But waiting for a hurricane to hit, with lots of warning, as you wait to be slammed, is anxious-making too, in a different way.)

We had been told that the hurricane touching land, as it did in the Carolinas, would diminish some of her force, which was confirmed all that night on TV. And from time to time, I thought about my daughter's once pretty apartment, and wondered what would be left of it, and her belongings, if the promised 6 feet of flooding occurred.

And then at last, morning came, and Irene with it, undeniably a big storm in the city, but not nearly of the magnitude predicted. No question, there were areas that suffered severe damage and floods, in New Jersey, Maryland, Long Island, other areas, but I don't think any of it was as disastrous as predicted. It is always sad to hear of people losing homes in these events, or worse the accidents that cause loss of life, but on the whole, this proved not to be a disaster of Katrina proportions of a few years ago. And within a short time, on Sunday at mid-day, Irene was downgraded from a hurricane to a tropical storm. The rivers had risen around Manhattan, by a foot or two, and then receded just as quickly. Flooding in the city did not occur as expected, and the evacuated areas in the city did not lose power and were not underwater. At 1pm the mayor addressed the city on TV, and lifted the evacuation order at 3pm, still urging people to be careful of objects that might fall or fly around in the powerful winds. (More like 50mph, with gusts of 60, not the 150mph expected, fortunately).  It rained on and off on Sunday, but the weather was warm, and in lower Manhattan, we saw no real damage, except a few limbs that had been torn off trees in the wind, and the wind was indeed powerful when we stepped outside. On Sunday, the airports remained closed, as did all businesses, and many roads, and there was still no public transportation. Taxis or private cars were the only way to get around, and there were very few people on the streets, and still no restaurants or stores open. New York was a ghost town over the weekend.

We went back to her apartment and undid the protective work we had done, pulled off the plastic tarps and removed the miles of tape that held them, opened the metal shutters on the windows, put the furniture back in place and the clothes back in the closets, and the books back in the bookcase, and by the end of the day, it looked like her home again, and as though nothing had occurred. The storm never hit as viciously and destructively as they thought it would in New York City, although it did plenty of damage elsewhere, but again compared to the heartbreaking destruction during Katrina, Hurricane Irene did not compare. And we were very very grateful for that. The massive flooding in Zone A of the city never occurred, fortunately. I didn't see any broken windows, and none of the buildings that were mostly glass seemed to have suffered damage. Irene hit the city much more gently than expected, although there was flooding in some of the outlying areas, and to the North (Massachusetts, Vermont, etc.) and the South (the Carolinas, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Maryland, etc.).

Hurricanes are never to be taken lightly, and this one wasn't. New Yorkers, and their mayor, faced this one seriously and responsibly, with lots of preparation and efficient planning, and warnings to the population. Everyone I saw cooperated, evacuations and curfews were respected, and I'm sure others worked as fiendishly as we did to protect my daughter's belongings and brace for the storm. Everyone appeared to take it seriously, and we certainly did, and it was an extremely strange and stressful weekend, first packing everything up and taking her home apart, and then sitting and waiting for hours, for the storm to finally hit. We were stuck in our hotel room, watching the news for many, many hours.

Forty eight hours after we began packing up her apartment, with a feeling of panic and desperation about what we could save from a force of nature like a hurricane—–it was over, and her apartment looked pristine and as though nothing had happened. We didn't over react, nor under react, we did what we had to, and what we were told to do. And Irene cooperated by not hitting the city as hard as she could have.

Tomorrow, Monday, the city will slowly get back on its feet again. The airport is due to open, public transportation will be restored, businesses and shops will reopen, and life will get back to normal, while others, in other places, will begin the sad task of repairing the damage Irene did to them, mostly with floods, and trees that fell in the strong winds.

Hurricanes unleashed are fierce beasts which no one can control. And this one proved to be less ferocious than she was expected to be. But seeing the force of nature unleashed, even in the winds and rains, I have a healthy respect for the destruction that could have happened. I think luck was on New York's side this week. The city got off very lucky, considering how bad it could have been, but fortunately it wasn't as bad as we had feared. And I am very, very grateful for that.

It was not the NY weekend I expected (of shopping and dinners in our favorite restaurants), but I was grateful to be there with my daughter, and to do whatever I could to help (which wasn't much, just moving furniture, packing up, and covering everything with plastic sheets). For the most part, or at least in New York City, Irene turned out to be more of a lady than we had been led to believe before she arrived. She did some damage, but not nearly as much as she could have. And forty eight hours after we began taking my daughter's apartment apart, with a light rain outside and some heavy gusts of wind (but no more than any late August storm), the weekend seemed even more surreal. Was it all hype? I don't think so. I think there was a good chance that NY could have been destroyed, or at least heavily impacted, if Irene had turned her full force on us. But fortunately, she didn't. And for that I am truly grateful. It was indeed a very interesting weekend in New York. And now, as I write this, the winds are diminishing, the rain is stopping, and by tomorrow I suspect the sun will be shining and the city calm again, and it will all seem even more unreal. And despite the damage she did do, I am very grateful that she didn't do more and began to lose force as she wended her way north. It could have been much worse, and I'm glad it wasn't.  Goodbye, Irene.

And my love to you all, as always,

Danielle

 

Footnote to the Storm:

It is the day after Hurricane Irene hit New York City, I woke up early to blue skies and a sunny day. I don't for a minute want to minimize the impact of this hurricane on those who suffered severe damage and loss in the various places it hit, but in New York City, it was not the devastating event that was predicted and did very little damage.

It occurs to me as I look at the blue sky and dawning sunny day from my hotel room, that perhaps this storm is an analogy with life, at times. A catastrophic event was predicted, everyone was frightened. Enormous floods in the city streets were predicted, there was a strong temptation to panic, people were evacuated from their homes. On a personal level, with my daughter evacuated as well, we worked hard to protect her apartment, faced it squarely, were afraid she'd lose all her most treasured belongings, and then worked hard again to put it all back together after the storm. We did what we had to do, and were rewarded with the incredible good fortune that none of the dire predictions occurred. There was no catastrophic damage or floods in Manhattan. It blew like crazy yesterday in a shutdown, boarded up, fearful New York. And today, there is bright blue sky and dawning sunlight overhead. There will always be devastating events in our lives, heartbreaking moments that decimate us, broken marriages for some, the loss of loved ones, illness, and all the ills that challenge us to our core. But not all hurricanes are Katrinas, some are more like Irene passing through New York City, with very little damage, or none at all, and a blue sky the next day. That's good to remember, that not all the storms we face will decimate us. Sometimes we will be lucky, and the storm will blow and frighten us, but not bring us to our knees and destroy us. If we do what we have to do, some storms will pass us by and not be as terrible as we expect. It is good to remember that some of the storms we face will turn out to be less devastating than we fear, or not at all, and there is blue sky the next day. May the storms you face be small ones. And if you suffered damage in Hurricane Irene, I hope it will be repaired and healed soon.

With love again,

Danielle