Nancy Davis Kho's Blog, page 48

Still in Rotation: Barry Manilow Live (Barry Manilow)

Still in Rotation is a feature that lets talented writers tell Midlife Mixtape readers about an album they discovered years ago that’s still in heavy rotation, and why it has such staying power.

Amy Vansant’s website says she is a “writer, humorist, and delusionist.” It leaves out “force of nature,” which is how I think of her, ever since she first asked me to contribute an essay to a new humor anthology she was editing called Moms are Nuts. I have watched in awe as she curated work from amazing and accomplished writers, edited and designed the book, then spearheaded a marketing juggernaut which pushed the book into the best seller ranks within a few weeks of its release, a huge accomplishment for a self-published book. When Amy informed me she was going to write about Manilow, I knew enough to stand back and get out of her way.

Barry Manilow Live (1977)

I don’t want to brag about how cool I am, but the first album I ever owned was Barry Manilow LIVE!

I know. Please! Don’t feel intimidated. Some people are born with cool, some people have to work at it. It’s pretty clear I was born with it, since my next album was Born Late by Shaun Cassidy and my third was something or other by Donny and Marie, but don’t hate me. I can’t help it.  You can’t stop the rock.

When I played “house” with the other kids on the block, we all had our roles, and I was Barry Manilow, the “dad.” Seriously.

Please don’t tell my husband about this.

My one very girly friend was “Mandy,” my wife. I was Barry, and the other kids on the block were various people. Maybe Rico from Copacabana. Who knows. All I know is Mandy made a mean potatoes and beans (white stones and stripped mimosa tree leaves). And Mandy was also a screaming bitch. When I got home from a hard day on tour, all she did was complain. One day she told me she’d had a baby by someone else. Overnight. I think she claimed the father was Rick Springfield, that flashy bastard.

I was ten and didn’t even know what that meant. I laughed at her and told her I was “the dad” so that was impossible, clearly the kid was mine.

Mandy’s mother might have watched too many soap operas.

In grade school I performed a jump rope routine to “Daybreak” by Mr. Manilow.

To this day, I regularly ask people if they know who wrote the jingle: “You deserve a break today…” for McDonald’s. Know who it was?

BARRY MANILOW.

How about “Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there….”

BARRY MANILOW.

How about “I am stuck on the motherfuckin’ Bandaid because the motherfuckin’ Bandaid is stuck on me?”

You guessed it.  MOTHERFUCKIN’ BARRY MANILOW.

How about “Be a Pepper, Drink Dr. Pepper?” 

That was Randy Newman.

Anyway, I know all that information thanks to the Barry Manilow Live album, and I’ve yet to find anyone else who lived and breathed it the way I did as a 10 year old, so I sound like a freakin’ genius when I mention these things. Or the most boring woman on the planet. Doesn’t matter. I’m drunk.

To this day I have a weak spot in my heart for Barry.  And because I’m a purist, I don’t count the only songs many people identify with Barry as my favorites. “Mandy,” “Copacabana,” “I Write the Songs” (which was written by Barry Johnston and not Barry Manilow. What the hell Barry? Was that the only time you cheated on me? What’s next? I find out you’re gay or something?)

My favorites are “Looks Like We Made It,” “We Made it Through the Rain,” (Barry was always makin’ it somewhere), “Weekend in New England,” “This One’s For You,” and “Even Now.”

I know there are many people my age and pretty much everyone younger than me who would rather have a bag of bees thrown over their head than go to a Barry Manilow concert, but, dammit, that man is an entertainer.  And when I hear Barry belting out “This one’s for yoooooou, wherever you aaarrrre….” on the radio…

I know that man is talking to me.

♪♪♪

Amy Vansant is a total dork and former editor for Surfer Magazine and author of The Surfer’s Guide to Florida.  She now writes humor for places like McSweeney’s Internet Tendencies, The Big Jewel and The Barnes and Noble Review, because the urge to talk to teenage surfers has long since left her. You can read more at her humor site, http://www.AmyVansant.com or Twitter: @AmyVansant or Facebook.com/kidfreeliving.

                   
CommentsThank you and that would be THE MOST FUN SUPPORT GROUP EVAH! If ... by AmyGreat piece. I like rock, jazz, I'm a dead head. Barry M. is an ... by DrewPlease tell me you performed it wearing a sweat band around ... by Nancy Davis KhoI KILLED This Ones For Your at the camp talent show in 1987. ... by AnnOh, you think you're so cool, Amy? Well, try THIS on for size: ... by Linda Roy - elleroy was herePlus 4 more...Related StoriesStill in Rotation: Singles-45′s and Under (Squeeze)Still in Rotation: Black Eyed Man (Cowboy Junkies)Still in Rotation: Slippery When Wet (Bon Jovi) 

Thank the Universe (For My Aunt)

Two months ago I was visiting my hometown and stopped over to pick up my eighty-something Aunt Noonie, to take her to an 11:15 am lunch at the Cracker Barrel. When I stepped into the covered front porch of her home, I noticed shiny pennies strewn amidst the newspapers, coolers, and other detritus that has been stacked in that space since the 1960s. As Noonie stepped through the front door buttoning her coat she said, “Don’t touch those coins! It’s a spell. They’re going to bring me more money soon.”

Noonie’s not a witch, just an equal opportunity optimist and a widow living on a fixed income. Why NOT try a spell to bring more money in? I pointed out, as I helped her to the car, that maybe the spell worked because when she eventually picked up the pennies, she would have more money, seven cents to be exact. Noonie threw shade at me like shade has never been thrown and I dropped the subject.

Kelly Rowland provides an approximation of Noonie’s shade throwing

Over lunch we talked a bit about the fact that she’d gotten a confusing letter from the bank and wasn’t quite sure what to do about it. I wasn’t going to be in town long enough to do much to help. “Let me ask my dad,” I offered. My father the retired engineer thinks in grids and math problems, so throwing him at his sister-in-law’s disorganized checkbook was perfect symbiosis. (My mom sticks to forcibly removing items from Noonie’s front porch over her sister’s protestations, saying things like “Fire hazard!” and “You’ll trip!)

A week later I got this in the mail from Noonie. She’d written out the Good Luck Fast Money spell on an index card for me, because she’s sweet like that.

Notice that any salt will work, but sea salt is preferable. Because, reasons. Also, the last step is key: Thank the Universe.

Meanwhile my dad was en fuego with Noonie’s bank situation, calling me every few days with another update on a knot he’d untied – the single unpaid bill that triggered predatory lending rates, the nice people at the bank trying to “help” this elderly lady and longtime customer by getting her involved in confusing lending opportunities, that sort of thing. “It’s a good thing you told me about this, Nance,” Dad said. “We’re going to get this all sorted out.”

I had, by this time, filed away Noonie’s spell in the big box where I keep letters I want to save, because it is so quintessentially Noonie. Plus, super funny blog post prompt, my aunt and her sea salt pennies.

A couple of weeks ago my dad called with the final Noonie Banking update. He had slain the beast, transferred funds from this account to that, paid off credit cards, worked out a monthly budget with her, set up a two-envelope bill tracking system, gotten her agreement that he will balance her checkbook on a monthly basis from now on. As a result, she is no longer paying finance fees on a bunch of cards, which will save her a significant amount of money.

And we can all agree with Poor Richard that a penny saved is a penny earned, right?

Holy crap. Noonie’s spell worked. Feel free to try it yourself, and don’t trip over the pennies in my front hallway.

Looking for Easy Money? So’s Bruce.

***I’m over on NickMom this week, confessing the thoughts that are REALLY going through my head while I exercise. Now you know why I prefer to sit still.

                   
CommentsLet me (and more importantly Noonie) know if it works! by Nancy Davis KhoI would say yes, and then when it doesn't work, just blame the ... by Nancy Davis KhoShe is indeed. There's a reason everyone bends over backwards ... by Nancy Davis KhoI think she was just messing with you and wanted to lighten her ... by Nancy Davis KhoGotta love her!!! Flying home on Sunday from Jennifer's … ... by Debbie StillingsPlus 3 more...Related StoriesHappy Reeses Hoarding Holiday!Oakland: Take the Bad with the GoodAnthology-Palooza 

Thank the Universe (for My Aunt)

Two months ago I was visiting my hometown and stopped over to pick up my eighty-something Aunt Noonie, to take her to an 11:15 am lunch at the Cracker Barrel. When I stepped into the covered front porch of her home, I noticed shiny pennies strewn amidst the newspapers, coolers, and other detritus that has been stacked in that space since the 1960s. As Noonie stepped through the front door buttoning her coat she said, “Don’t touch those coins! It’s a spell. They’re going to bring me more money soon.”

Noonie’s not a witch, just an equal opportunity optimist and a widow living on a fixed income. Why NOT try a spell to bring more money in? I pointed out, as I helped her to the car, that maybe the spell worked because when she eventually picked up the pennies, she would have more money, seven cents to be exact. Noonie threw shade at me like shade has never been thrown and I dropped the subject.

Kelly Rowland provides an approximation of Noonie’s shade throwing

Over lunch we talked a bit about the fact that she’d gotten a confusing letter from the bank and wasn’t quite sure what to do about it. I wasn’t going to be in town long enough to do much to help. “Let me ask my dad,” I offered. My father the retired engineer thinks in grids and math problems, so throwing him at his sister-in-law’s disorganized checkbook was perfect symbiosis. (My mom sticks to forcibly removing items from Noonie’s front porch over her sister’s protestations, saying things like “Fire hazard!” and “You’ll trip!)

A week later I got this in the mail from Noonie. She’d written out the Good Luck Fast Money spell on an index card for me, because she’s sweet like that.

Notice that any salt will work, but sea salt is preferable. Because, reasons. Also, the last step is key: Thank the Universe.

Meanwhile my dad was en fuego with Noonie’s bank situation, calling me every few days with another update on a knot he’d untied – the single unpaid bill that triggered predatory lending rates, the nice people at the bank trying to “help” this elderly lady and longtime customer by getting her involved in confusing lending opportunities, that sort of thing. “It’s a good thing you told me about this, Nance,” Dad said. “We’re going to get this all sorted out.”

I had, by this time, filed away Noonie’s spell in the big box where I keep letters I want to save, because it is so quintessentially Noonie. Plus, super funny blog post prompt, my aunt and her sea salt pennies.

A couple of weeks ago my dad called with the final Noonie Banking update. He had slain the beast, transferred funds from this account to that, paid off credit cards, worked out a monthly budget with her, set up a two-envelope bill tracking system, gotten her agreement that he will balance her checkbook on a monthly basis from now on. As a result, she is no longer paying finance fees on a bunch of cards, which will save her a significant amount of money.

And we can all agree with Poor Richard that a penny saved is a penny earned, right?

Holy crap. Noonie’s spell worked. Feel free to try it yourself, and don’t trip over the pennies in my front hallway.

Looking for Easy Money? So’s Bruce.

***I’m over on NickMom this week, confessing the thoughts that are REALLY going through my head while I exercise. Now you know why I prefer to sit still.

                  Related StoriesHappy Reeses Hoarding Holiday!Oakland: Take the Bad with the GoodAnthology-Palooza 

Turn Down the Music and Read: Confidence or the Appearance of Confidence

I have a major crush on McSweeney’s, the San Francisco publishing company founded by Dave Eggers that operates not just a daily humor site and a quarterly literary journal, not just a monthly magazine called The Believer,  and not just a growing book publishing arm. No, they also have a vibrant national nonprofit – the San Francisco branch is called and located at 826 Valencia – that promotes writing for young people, especially those in underserved schools. And if that weren’t enough, they have A PIRATE STORE. Yes, the 826 Valencia storefront is your go-to spot for planks, eye patches, and other paraphernalia.  For all I know, McSweeney’s keeps bees and builds nuclear power plants on the weekend. It wouldn’t surprise me a bit.

So when I saw the vibrant yellow, red, and black cover of Confidence or the Appearance of Confidence: The Best of Believer Music Interviews,(McSweeneys, 2014) of course I had to have it. I am writing this review before I finish it, because at the rate I’m purposely savoring this collection, it’ll be summer by the time I get to the last one, with Leslie Feist being interviewed by Claudia Dey.

These interviews, which took place between the years 2003 and 2013 and are presented chronologically, are not your typical music magazine interviews. They’re more like listening to the conversations of two cool kids who don’t mind you eavesdropping. They talk about non-music stuff as much as, if not more, than their musical journeys, and the Believer interviewers don’t just tolerate the tangents but encourage them. Pat Benatar pretty much sounds like every mother of grown children who is still measuring to see if she did her job right, as evidenced by her children’s lifestyle choices. Steve Malkmus of Pavement talks at length about why “Paul Rudd” is such an unfortunate name. And who knew Jack White was an upholsterer in his earlier life?

The interviewers themselves are as interesting as the subjects, with Patton Oswalt, Miranda July, and Eggers among the crew asking the questions. One of my favorite interviews thus far is Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam being interviewed by fellow Pacific Northwest music diety Carrie Brownstein, of Sleater Kinney and the television show “Portlandia.” Having one successful musician ask informed questions of another seems to elicit a less guarded answer, and the follow ups take us into territory that we mere mortals might not even know to ask about.

The artists featured are from every corner of the music world, from British Sri Lankan performer M.I.A. to indie goddess Karen O to jazz guitarist Pat Martino and composer Nico Muhly. You will definitely know some people in this book. You will definitely NOT know others. That’s what makes it such an edifying read.

I’m going to have to insist you buy this one in hard copy, not an eVersion (though I doubt one even exists.)The interviews are short, the paper stock is gorgeous, the cover illustrations by Charles Burn are eye catching in a Roy Lichtensteinian way. This book is why summer, and beaches, and beach bags, and bookmarks exist. You can take this with you everywhere and read an interview or two and, like me, stretch it out for as long as humanly possible.

Here’s a tune from one of the interview subjects, Irma Thomas, the Soul Queen of New Orleans, singing “You Can Have My Husband (But Don’t Mess With My Man.)”

***

You’re feeling sleepy…very sleepy…either you need more coffee, or you just clicked through to read the guest post I have on TueNight.com today, about my Top 10 Sleep Songs. Check it out, though you should probably let the dog out to do his business and put on your jammies first. It’s that potent.

                   
CommentsSounds good, I'll add it to the list. I got Peter Hook's “The ... by EllenAnd coming from an Art History major, that means something. ... by Nancy Davis KhoI'm going to give “Roy Lichtensteinian” two thumbs up. Love ... by JillRelated StoriesTurn Down the Music and Read: Mad WorldTurn Down the Music and Read: Just KidsBook Review and Giveaway: MAXED OUT by Katrina Alcorn 

Here’s To The Girls They Were

Before they were our moms, they were something else.

Pretty obvious fact, but especially when you’re a kid, it’s easy to believe that not only your life but your mother’s started at your conception. In the self-centered universe that is childhood, nothing is less logical than your mother having any sort of past life. What would she need that for? She’s got ME.

But she did have a past life, and she made a choice to leave it behind when she became a mom. Maybe not entirely, maybe not every moment, but she made – makes – a conscious decision to let go of it, in order to have the energy, the creativity, and the sturdiness to be a mom. So on this Mother’s Day, I say we take a moment in recognition of the Girls Our Moms Were.

My mom grew up in Rochester as the youngest of three sisters and I’m pretty sure the three of them were the ringers that everyone liked to invite to their parties in the early 1950’s. They were pretty, they laughed easily, they were not above neighborhood mischief involving but not limited to roller skates, pilfered sugar packets during the wartime rationing years, and one stolen canoe. My mother has an outsize sense of fun and is the queen of the self-deprecating quip, painting herself as the dummy we know she’s not. One of her favorite stories to tell is how she and her roommate Nancy – who I’m named after – took at performing arts class in college. The professor announced to the class he was going to lecture about Giuseppe Verdi. Then he turned to Mom and Nancy and said, “That’s Joe Green to you two.”

Back in the day. Mom’s the Rapunzel-esque blonde.My godfather is dressed as a sailor and drinking beer from a fishbowl.

When Mom had a big milestone birthday last December, my sister in law and my niece presented her with a precious gift. They’d taken Mom’s deteriorating, tattered college scrapbook and painstakingly transferred its contents into a new archival book, keeping the layout and contents of each page intact. It overflowed with cocktail napkins printed with fraternity insignias, programs from the Winter Carnival, playbills from trips to New York City as part of her theater class (where they went to hear Joe Green’s music.) There were black and white photos of Mom in full Mad Men mode, cocktail dresses, dark lipstick, trapeze coats and coiffed blonde hair. This is, I presume, the period my mother referred to during our growing-up years when she used to say, “Back when I had money for fancy clothes. Before you kids were born.”

At some point as Mom looked through the scrapbook in the middle of the party, her eyes widened and she said, “I think I’d better look at this later” and quickly slammed the cover shut. Though she whispered it, I heard her older sister, my Aunt Noonie, quietly say, “I told you if you danced on that table, you were going to fall off eventually.”

Mom became a kindergarten teacher when she graduated, and a summer or two later she and a couple of girlfriends spent the summer driving from Rochester to San Francisco. We’ll never really know the full extent of the adventures she had on the trip. I do know that a few times as I’ve driven her from Oakland into San Francisco across the Bay Bridge and said, “Now we’re crossing Treasure Island, it’s an old military base,” she’s said, “Oh, I know. We had dinner on Treasure Island at the Commanding Officer’s house. We’d met some sailors who invited us there.” Oh, okay, Mom who gets invited to high security Naval bases for dinner.

Shortly after the cross country trip my mother connected with my dad; when they married, her devoted students showed up at the steps of the church, wooden rulers in hand, to raise them into an arch for Mom and Dad to walk through. The picture made the front page of the local paper.

And then she became a mom, and while she had a career in education and administration, and she’s travelled with my dad, and has read a million books and seen a thousand movies, the biggest segment of the pie chart that is her life is labelled “Mom,” with a secondary slice called “Grandma.” That Thelma and Louise life, the one where she wore the expensive clothes and danced on the tables and got invited out by sailors, was edged out by the one where she made homemade vocabulary flashcards for her preschool-aged children, cooked us Yorkshire pudding, and sat on the front porch on hot summer days killing flies with a flyswatter so my brother could feed his pet turtle. That mischievous younger life faded into mere memory as she attended her grandkids’ dance recitals and volleyball games and graduations.

Mom has never once made us feel that she has regrets. But this Mother’s Day, let’s just take a minute and appreciate the enormity of the moment when our mothers made the conscious decision to put their girlhoods in a scrapbook, so they’d have room in their lives for us.

My mom’s favorite song, El Paso by Marty Robbins, covered by the band I’m seeing tomorrow night: Old 97s. She will hate this version.

                   
CommentsWhat a wonderful gift to redo the scrap books and an even ... by NancySo much here reminded me of my mom and her best friend.  Two ... by AlisonWhat a wonderful homage to your mom. I wonder what's in your ... by Su-sanThis was beautiful. And there are many moms who don't put ... by alexandraFor me, it was my grandmother who seemed to lead the exciting ... by EllenRelated StoriesMoms Are Nuts, and A Bunch of Us Wrote About ItSturdyHold On To Sixteen 

Oakland: Take the Bad with the Good

Well, we finally made the big time. Oakland was the above-the-fold story in the New York Times Sunday Styles section this week. It’s the latest validation of the renaissance of a city I’ve lived in for sixteen years, a surge fueled by the crazy money pouring into the city on the other side of the Bay Bridge. The logic is that as tech millionaires push middle class homeowners and first time buyers out of San Francisco, they’re discovering Oakland, just a hop, skip, and a $5 toll ride away. Houses go on the market in Oakland, fifteen seconds later there’s a bidding war, and BAM! we have new neighbors.

I welcome our newest neighbors to the 5-1-0. And I have a counter-intuitive request: please don’t overlook the bad in your hurry to see the good in your new home city.

I’ve often thought of Oakland as “The City That Almost Could.” We get sooooo close to doing things right, only to collapse steps away from across the finish line. Schools are getting better! The superintendent leaves. The police force is ramping up! The mayor is waffling on her support of the chief (again.) The Lake Merritt estuary opened so even more people are walking around the lake! Where they are targeted for smart phone theft.

A half block away from the Oakland studio where my daughters study dance, there’s a corner building that someone recently spruced it up. They painted it a cool purplish-gray with lime trim, and added a big sign out friend advertising live music. “Wow,” I thought. “A new venue, and so close to my house!” I drove by it the other day and the entire new paint job has been tagged with graffiti. So Oakland.

It’s tempting to look past those imperfections and focus on all the things that work in our city. But the problem with ignoring the darker aspects of life in our city is that they proliferate.

So many families move into our neighborhood when the young wife is hugely pregnant with her first child. Then, as soon as that kid turns 4, they move out to the eastern suburbs without ever giving  Oakland public schools a chance. As someone who sent one child to a private middle school because it was the best fit for her, I totally support the right to choose. I also know that no school – not even the private ones – are perfect. If you want Oakland public schools to be good enough for your child when he or she is old enough for kindergarten, get involved and help make them that way. And if your kids have already graduated, stay involved – those schools are raising up the young people who will run this city some day, so it’s not a selfless act.

Same goes with retail. Do you love our charming little stores and locally owned businesses? Then frequent them. I choose that verb with care: go there frequently. It’s easier and often cheaper to order everything online, but when you need a last-minute gift, or a personalized recommendation from an actual person, or a retail center that offers something other than coffee houses and nail salons, you have to buy things from those stores, a lot. The stores that give Oakland their charm can’t pay their bills otherwise.

Hold the politicians’ feet to the fire. Vote. Go to City Council meetings (the entertainment factor ALONE is worth your time.) Ask why things can’t be better, but don’t expect someone else to fix them. You’re here in the ‘Town now, baby. It’s your job, too.

Recently I’ve been writing bios of  notable alumni for the Centennial Celebration of my daughter’s public high school, Oakland Technical. My research makes something clear: Oakland has always been a city of problem solvers and action takers. Sure, there are the marquee alum like Clint Eastwood and Rickey Henderson and Marshawn Lynch, and a plethora of early twentieth century sports figures with nicknames like Brick, Bud, and Cookie.

But Oakland also raised up generations of people who saw problems and opportunities and jumped in feet first. Ruth Beckford (Class of ‘47) opened up the first recreational modern dance department in a city Parks and Rec department in the whole country. Jack Soo ‘34, best known as Detective Yemana from Barney Miller, took a stand against roles that were demeaning to Asian Americans. Huey Newton ‘59 started the Black Panthers Party. These were people who challenged the status quo, didn’t just pretend that the problems they saw were inconsequential.

Now that you’re here, I hope you will enjoy everything Oakland has to offer: perfect weather, lots of restaurants (and parking), swaths of green parkland, and a truly diverse population. Buy a shirt at Oaklandish and wear it to an A’s game. Check out the First Friday Art Murmur. Take a paddleboat around the lake.  Local love, baby: it’s hella tight.

But when you see something about Oakland that pisses you off, don’t brush it off. Ask, “How can I make that better?”

That’s the only way this City That Almost Could will ever become The City That Can.

Great alt-hip hop song from Oakland’s own Latyrx, filmed all over the ‘Town…

***So thrilled to share that I’ve been chosen as a BlogHer 2014 “Voice of the Year,” in the Humor category, for my post “How to Maximize the Drama Inherent in a Wild Turkey Encounter.” VOTY has been a goal of mine for a looong time, so grateful I finally made the cut (especially when you see who else won!) 

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Anthology-Palooza

When it rains, it pours, and luckily for both of us, it’s pouring right before Mother’s Day. I have the honor and privilege to be involved with three (that’s 3) anthologies that are hitting bookstore shelves this month, and any of them would be perfect gifting for the moms in your life. I’ll also be doing some in-person promotion for each, so I would love to see you at an upcoming event!

Moms are Nuts

The title of this very funny anthology says it all: everyone’s got a good story to share about their moms, and editor Amy Vansant pulled together a superstar group of collaborators for this little book. The nicest thing about this one? You don’t have to BE a mom to appreciate it, you just have to HAVE one. Whether it’s Wendi Aarons talking about her sorority house mom, Lisa Rosenberg talking about Gram Melva, or Marinka talking about her Russian mother’s belief that the first warm day of spring has different temperature qualities than all the ones that follow, Moms Are Nuts is full of relatable Mom moments.

Come See Me! I’ll be at Great Good Place for Books in Oakland on Saturday, May 3 from 10-11 am. It’s the first ever California Bookstore Day and I’ll be there to read and sign, and to just generally mix and mingle during the party at GGP. I am praying for donuts and those ladies never let me down.

Nothing But the Truth So Help Me God: 73 Women on Life’s Transitions

This is a brand spanking new anthology put together by Nothing But The Truth Publishing, and includes the writing of 73 contributors on the topic of “Transitions.” I’m thrilled to be alongside authors like Kelly Corrigan and Gaby Bernstein, not to mention the O.G. Bay Area telejournalist Belva Davis and my fellow Listen To Your Mother castmate, Jennifer Ress Bush. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll wonder if I’m really as calm as I claim to be about my daughter moving into the driver’s seat of our car, now that she’s sixteen.

Come See Me! Along with Jennifer, Litquake founder Jane Ganahl, and other esteemed contributors, I’ll be doing a reading at Books Inc in Palo Alto on Thursday, May 22 at 7 pm. Come out and make my drive down to Silicon Valley in rush hour traffic worth the time!

Mamas Write: 29 Tales of Truth, Wit, and Grit

My writing isn’t in this one, but it’s a terrific anthology put together by a local writing group, the Write On Mamas. It’s a perfect read for any parent in a creative pursuit – I love how the essays address the way that mothering (and one fathering) shapes you as a writer. Lots of Bay Area talent getting their say here in a book that’s equal parts motivational and lovely.

Come See Me! As part of the new Scribd Author Series in San Francisco, I’ll be moderating a panel discussion with contributors to Mamas Write at Scribd Headquarters in San Francisco (539 Bryant Street) on Thursday, May 8 at 6 pm.  Scribd is making a play to be the Netflix of books, and if you sign up to attend (and get a free three-month Scribd membership) you’ll also get a copy of the book for free. More details here.

And although these are all Great Books, I will leave you with song by Bad Books that I’ve always liked. Have a great weekend and don’t forget to hit a California Bookstore on Saturday if you’re in the Golden State!

                   
CommentsI put Moms Are Nuts on my Mother's Day wishlist but I also ... by EllenThank you Tom – you are too kind! Yes, I've been cracking up ... by Nancy Davis KhoRead Moms Are Nuts. LMAO. Shades of Erma Bombeck. Miss my mom. by TomwiskRelated StoriesAnnouncing My New eBook: The Family MixMoms Are Nuts, and A Bunch of Us Wrote About ItFull Disclosure 

Oh Yes It’s Ladies Eighties Night

Last week I went out dancing with a bunch of girlfriends for my 40-something birthday to a “Class of ’84 Video Dance Night” at the Cat Club in San Francisco. It was just like all the birthdays I celebrated by dancing with a gaggle of my gal pals, back in my twenties. Well, except:

We drove in a minivan instead of taking a taxi
Rather than talking about the guys we’d surely meet, we discussed whether the new Frozen performing arts camp in Berkeley would put the youngest daughters of the six moms in the car right over the edge
Almost everyone in the minivan was wearing sensible low heeled shoes. One woman wore sensible high heeled shoes, with a thick stacked heel and ankle support
No one was drinking Bartles and Jaymes wine coolers as we drove
We agreed we would probably leave the club by 11
No one smelled like AquaNet or wore shoulder pads so large that they could accomodate a tilted head for a moment of rest
We arrived around the corner to the club not fashionably late but at 8:58, two minutes too early for the doors to have opened. We sat in the minivan and talked for as long as we could stand it: 9:04
When the bartender in the still mostly-empty club handed me the menu with the list of draft beers, I asked him to please hold it at chest level and take a step back so I could read the tiny print. He said, “Maybe it’s easier if I just read it to you.”

But other than that? JUST like dancing in the mid 80’s. The back room of the Cat Club played all the stuff I loved to dance to back in the Reagan era, the Classic Alternative videos of bands like Depeche Mode, The Cure, the Smiths, etc. Or as my friend Glynis said as I dragged her on the floor against her will for “Add It Up” by the Violent Femmes,“I am a Top 20 pop person. This is the bottom 200.” And a little later, during a Nitzer Ebb song: “This is the Devil’s music!” (Glynis has never been a church goer for as long as I’ve known her so I just ignored her and continued dancing next to the transvestite in the lingerie slip and jaunty beret.)

I mean it was like old times:

There were the obligatory guys in black Joy Division t-shirts and biker jackets dancing with themse-elves.
There was a bassline thumping so loud that it knocked over drinks. (Turn your speakers down before clicking this link: Dance, Gin and Tonic, Dance)
The people who were dancing on the raised platforms and in the cage were exactly the people you DIDN’T want to see dancing on the raised platforms or in the cage, including a John Travolta wanna-be in aviator sunglasses doing a disturbing grind against the video screens, and a woman who appeared to be hearing a Ke$ha song in her head and looking for a pole during her moment in the spotlight.
There were cheesy pick-up lines fated to become immediate comic fodder. One lookalike said to my friend Tiff, “We’re the two best looking people in this place, we should be dancing together,” and she danced, all right, right on away from him and over to the rest of us. Meanwhile Naveen plopped down next to Glynis and said, “I just got rejected,” to which Glynis said, “Those are MOMS!” to which Naveen indignantly said, “But Moms usually LOVE me!”

By eleven the club was packed, not just with the over-40 set but with a ton of young hipsters who knew all the words, so we couldn’t leave yet. Glynis succeeded in dragging us into the front room for the 80’s pop that was more her speed. Think Tony Basil and “Mickey.” “Walking on Sunshine.” “Like a Prayer.” When Michael Jackson’s “Beat It” came on and I attempted to Beat It back to the Alternative music side of the house, Glynis grabbed my hand and yelled, “THIS IS GOD’S MUSIC, YOU CANNOT LEAVE.”

It wasn’t until after “Sweet Child of Mine” ended and the first notes of “Don’t Stop Believin’” came on that we finally managed to drag ourselves out into the rain, first grabbing postcards for all the Cat Club’s upcoming retro dance nights, like 90’s Hip Hop Night and Goth vs. Ska Night. My friend Jenn said, “Oh thank god, my Naturalizers were just starting to kill me!” It was 12:45 a.m. on a Thursday and we wouldn’t be home in bed before 1:30, awake five hours later to start making breakfasts and shuttling kids to school.

At some point in the evening I thought how utterly relieved twenty year old me would have been to know that, even if it required a seeing-eye bartender, Dansko orthopedic clogs, and a two-day recovery period, forty-something me would still have the wherewithal to make a 80’s Video Dance night count.

And that little topper of self respect is all I need for my happy birthday.

                   
CommentsI've suddenly become quite nostalgic for my 'retro' music and ... by TracyImagine that video spread across two giant screens next to the ... by Nancy Davis KhoYes. All of the above. You'll have to fly out and come with us ... by Nancy Davis KhoBut would you dance on a platform with the John Travolta guy in ... by Nancy Davis KhoI thought the cage dance was going to be our little secret, ... by Nancy Davis KhoPlus 5 more...Related StoriesThings I Mutter Aloud To Myself as I Drive Through the College Campus Near My HouseHappy Reeses Hoarding Holiday!Turn Down the Music and Read: Mad World 

Still in Rotation: Singles-45′s and Under (Squeeze)

Still in Rotation is a feature that lets talented writers tell Midlife Mixtape readers about an album they discovered years ago that’s still in heavy rotation, and why it has such staying power.

When Vogue magazine’s three inch thick September issue hits the newstands each year, I don’t think, “Yay, fashion!” I think, “Yay, Philpott’s about to take it DOWN.” Mary Laura Philpott, aka “I Miss You When I Blink”, has a way with interpreting fashion, and that way is ROFL. She also has a way with hot-gluing googly eyes to nuts, having designed the cover of the Moms Are Nuts anthology in which we both have essays (don’t miss the outtakes from that photo shoot). But most of all, Mary Laura is a gifted and funny writer, and I’m honored to have her here talking about her “Still in Rotation” pick.

Singles-45′s and Under (1982)

The music you listen to when you’re old enough to know what love and sex and relationships are, but too young to understand how they really work, is a Rosetta stone of sorts–a key to deciphering a language you don’t yet fluently speak. So it was for me with Squeeze.

45s and Under had been around for several years when I first heard it at the beginning of 8th grade. Amy, the junior who made a little cash driving me and a carload of other kids to school, popped it into the cassette player of her purple 1972 Cutlass. Because she listened to it, we listened to it. Adopting the musical habits of a 17-year-old was the kind of thing that could give a not-quite-13-year-old a sense of oversized sophistication – like a 6-year-old clomping around in her big sister’s clogs or a 10-year-old staring at her reflection in a mirror, two little fingers clamped around an invisible cigarette, blowing imaginary smoke through her Chapsticked lips. I don’t really know what I’m doing, but what will it be like when I do?

That tape played through 20 minutes of traffic in the morning and back again in the afternoon, almost daily, at a volume that made it impossible to talk over the music – a distraction for which I was grateful. Having just moved into town, I had nothing to talk about with these people yet. So I just listened. Eventually, I sang along.

The songs told stories about relationships: hooking up, breaking up, and a variety of other strange encounters I didn’t quite grasp, but would soon enough. Probably the most popular were “Tempted” and “Pulling Mussels from a Shell.“ One of the weirdest songs on the album was “Take Me, I’m Yours”:

Talk about a song beyond my years. (Where did I think I wanted someone to “take me”? To the mall?) The lyrics are romantic, if strange: “I’ve come across the desert to greet you with a smile / My camel looks so tired / It’s hardly worth my while…” But the overall vibe here is foreign, bizarre, a bit dangerous. There’s something James Bond-ish in that opening guitar line, something predatory about the driving synth beat. This song hinted that courtship was something exotic, perhaps a tiny bit like hunting – or being hunted – definitely involving a camel and probably requiring some seductive Eastern garb, perhaps some Scheherazade-style veils? I wasn’t sure, but I found it fascinating.

One of my favorites was (and is) “Goodbye Girl.”

It’s about a guy getting conned by a hooker, so… super-appropriate for an 8th grader. But it had a beachy, upbeat feel to it. Just hearing that little shaker would put me in a good mood as I listened to this charmer work her magic – “the room was almost spinning / she pulled another smile” – and wondered just what you were supposed to do if you woke up and realized the person you’d taken home the night before had stolen all your stuff. Did this happen often? Or was the theft a metaphor of some kind? Was there any way to detect a liar by sight and avoid being scammed, either literally or emotionally? Would I ever find the right color blue eyeliner? So many questions.

Speaking of perky-sounding songs with bummer lyrics, I also loved “Another Nail in My Heart.”

Somewhere in there seemed to be a warning about adult relationships: We will have good intentions, but we will probably fuck up at some point. “I want to be good / Is that not enough?” Well, I don’t know, I thought, is it? Does every relationship turn into “where-have-you-beens and far-away frowns”? Kind of depressing, I supposed, but catchy. Gotta love a downer song with an upper beat.

The one song I’d rewind and listen to a second time whenever I could (because of course I ended up borrowing the tape and making a mix out of it) was “Black Coffee in Bed.” It’s still my favorite.

At almost 13, I may not have been able to tell you where I’d be living or what I’d be doing or who I’d be with as a grownup, but I felt pretty sure that if my life were to bear any resemblance to a Squeeze song, it wouldn’t be Take Me, I’m Yours, what with all the peeled grapes and desert wandering. But this – “There’s a stain on my notebook / Where your coffee cup was / And there’s ash in the pages / Now I’ve got myself lost.” Writing letters to lovers late at night while lounging in bed and pounding coffee? That sounded like Adulthood with a capital A to me.

* * *

I still put that album on every now and then. I have yet to be stalked across the desert by a man on a camel, but I can confirm that my notebooks are indeed covered in coffee rings. Now I comprehend what these guys are singing about, but for a moment when I put the album on and those first notes play, it takes me back to what it was like not to know – to stare out the open window at a strange town flashing past, wondering about everything, my scrunch-moussed hair almost blowing in the wind.

♪♪♪

Mary Laura Philpott is an author, freelance writer, and occasional artist whose work has been featured in major media including The New York Times, The Tennessean, The Atlanta Journal-Constitution, The Toast, and The Queen Latifah Show. She is the editor-in-chief of Musing, the online literary journal produced by Parnassus Books; the co-author, with JD DuPuy, of Poetic Justice: Legal Humor in Verse; and the creator of The Random Penguins tumblr. Most recently, she’s a contributor to the best-selling comedy collection, Moms Are Nuts (for which she also created the cover art). Contact: Twitter (@wheniblink) | Facebook (IMissYouWhenIBlink) | Instagram (TheRandomPenguins) | Blog (I Miss You When I Blink)

                   
Comments“Kind of depressing, I supposed, but catchy.” Yep, ... by Liz @ ewmcguireSinging Viva Espana to a crying wife…Best. Dorm. Room. Ever. by Cranky Divaahhhh squeeze…they are my crowded house Nancy…. LOVED that ... by Esther GulliI was a little older than that (and the album was new) when my ... by EllenRelated StoriesStill in Rotation: The Big Easy SoundtrackStill in Rotation: Black Eyed Man (Cowboy Junkies)Still in Rotation: Slippery When Wet (Bon Jovi) 

Things I Mutter Aloud To Myself as I Drive Through the College Campus Near My House

Roll On You Bears. I like to keep up one side of a conversation with the Collective You, whenever I drive through campus on my errands in Berkeley. I start teaching a writing class in Cal’s Extension program next week, so the likelihood that you’ll see a middle aged woman commandeering a Volvo station wagon and moving her lips as she drives past you is about to spike.

“Your mother wants you to wear a helmet when you ride your bike. She would cry if she knew you were riding without one.”
“You can’t pretend to me that you aren’t freezing in that skirt. Your legs are blue.”
“I think that’s called a longboard. Or is it a skateboard? How do you tell the difference?”
“Look at you, polite kid with clean shirt making eye contact with me in the crosswalk. You’re gonna go places. See me waving? I approve of you.”
“THAT fraternity? Girl, you are crazy to walk into that fraternity by yourself at dusk. Don’t you see the couch on the roof and the keg tipped over by the front steps?”
“Are you seriously college aged? Or is the preschool on this side of campus? I am a thousand years old.”
“SHOWER. It won’t kill you. We know, we know, you speak for the trees.”
“If you don’t want us all to realize you’re doing the walk of shame, at least put the sweatshirt on right side out. You are fooling no one.”
“Big Game Schmig Schmame.”
“Whoever convinced you to wear a bikini with no cover up to walk from campus all the way up to the Strawberry Canyon Pool just won a bet with his frat brothers.”
“What is the name of your mascot, again? You know, the bear with the little hat? Oh, that’s right. You can’t hear me. Thank god. Get outta the crosswalk.”

                   
CommentsI, on the other hand, walk or drive past frat row on game days ... by RisaOski the Bear! http://calspirit.berkeley.edu/oski/history.php ... by Nancy FriedmanDuh – what the heck did I link to? Anyway here's the right ... by Nancy Davis KhoI'm not sure you'll want to – it's pretty focused on PR, not ... by Nancy Davis KhoYou should present this article as a high school graduation ... by NancyPlus 5 more...Related StoriesAn Open Letter to the Handybook AppHappy Reeses Hoarding Holiday!Full Disclosure