Living to be 100: Is it Genes, Joy, or Stubborn Will?

On this day in 1911 a little baby girl was born in Casorzo, Italy to Giuseppe and Giulia Datomo. Not too long after, they carried their baby on a boat to the New World where Giuseppe would set up his carpentry shop in Greenwich Village and taking advantage of weekly standing room only seats, this amateur musician would cultivate in his young daughter a love and passion for opera. Learning the delicate handicrafts of lacemaking and dressmaking from her mother, Victoria would, as a young woman, stand out among the crowd of other seamstresses at Butterick's Shirt Factory. She could sew faster and more accurately than any of the other women, such that Mr. Butterick, chose Victoria to help design the next shirt. While her design was bought by Neiman Marcus in Texas, she fought with Mr. Butterick about the design implementation arguing that the diagonal stripes were going in the wrong direction and no one would buy it now. She was right, but being a strong-minded powerful woman in 1934 didn't always make you friends in high places. That is, until Victoria's incredible passion for opera and, in particular, the rising star from Montclair, NJ, Dorothy Kirsten. Victoria was the president of her fan club, but then her personal secretary, and then her personal hairdresser, seamstress, absolutely-indispensible-everything personal assistant. And as Ms. Kirsten catapulted to fame as one of the Metropolitan Opera's most lucious mezzo-sopranos, Victoria was right there with Dorothy Kirsten every step of the way. To her death bed, in fact. And as we who know Vicki say-- "and beyond." Even though it was almost 20 years ago that Dorothy Kirsten passed away, you can be sure that Victoria Datamo Hillebrand keeps the torch of her devotion lit eternally. But that's a story for another time-- What we really need to celebrate is that Victoria is 100 years old today! And while genetics must certainly have something to do with this longevity, I would venture to say that the secret to my grandmother's centenarian success is a contribution of many factors.
-a sense of purpose for at least 95 years-- That purpose-- keep Dorothy's memory alive
-an utter distaste for illness of any kind in self or others -- I can remember being 8 years old and having a horrible cough on our way to Dorothy's home in Pauma Valley. "You had better stop that coughing right this minute, young lady. You are not sick."
-never having a driver's license-- directly this means that she has walked many, many miles in her life, but an ancillary to not having a driver's license means you never also had to deal with any of the stresses associated with driving, nor do you feel bereft and limited when that privilege is revoked due to your age.
-the fear of dying -- before the rift between her daughter (my mother) and she will resolve in some sort of forgiveness -- Forgiveness of the daughter for not measuring up to Victoria's incredibly demanding health expectations, and forgiveness of the mother for abandoning the daughter in order to pursue all things Dorothy.
-sheer stubborness and joie de vivre -- as all things in Victoria's life have been done on her terms only--- and frankly, despite her cranky posits that "god must be punishing [her] for letting her live so long", Victoria Hillebrand would absolutely not have it any other way.

Why did they code name him Geronimo?

I thought I was disturbed by the events of last evening and today because the American people celebrating the death of Bin Laden really made me gasp. The death of one man cannot end terrorism, the death of one man cannot bring back the lives already lost to senseless terrorist attacks. And the death of this man, creates a martyr for those violent dangerous people who followed him, so now they can hate the murderers of their beloved leader and rally together. This has all sat strangely for me and I was heartened to hear that many people directly involved with the events of September 11 and other terrorist attacks led by Bin Laden-- all of these people have been much more subdued and introspective about the complexity of emotions this event has prompted. But tonight, in learning that they code named Bin Laden Geronimo--- NOOOOOO. I am utterly appalled with the crass historical mockery the special forces have committed. Geronimo was a nobel warrior, a resilient leader, and man of unwavering courage-- and the U.S. government killed him by essentially keeping him captive for 23 years. Is that really the parallel we want on this day?? An example of our country's racist, classist hegemony in committing genocide on a native people? Yeah, that's appealing. Anyway-- just had to get that off my chest.

Posting here on 5/5/10: Guess it wasn't just me who felt the need to get that off my chest--

CBS NEWS STORY
Detroit Free Press
Tulsa News

Poem for Jerzy

VENUS IS A SIZE 12
By Leslie B. Patient

VOLUPTUOUS
Feel the word in your mouth
Vo- Lup- Chew- Us

Voluptuous as crimson velvet cushions
stuffed to full roundness
your hand smoothing with the extra pressure
to sink into the luxury of something delectably
soft and secret

Voluptuous as sun-fed vineyard grapes
Glistening with drops of morning dew
Their juicy globes enticing your lips
To part in exhilarating anticipation

Voluptuous as verdant rolling hills
Dotted with Spring crocuses
Splashes of royals and radiance
Your eyes feast on the curvaceous earth
Longing to lie in her fertile valleys

Voluptuous as the cool and bodacious sculpted alabaster of the
Armless Goddess of Love
Her hips, all forty Inches sized 12, marbled perfection of she
Whom we should emulate

Go Ahead Giorgio,
cut your sleek angled lines for single digit bags of bones
Drape your runway skeletons with shimmering silks
That jut with collar bones and elbows
Choose the flat barren bellies of pre-pubescent
Cosmetically engineered faux female bodies
So that grease-fat fed morons can drool over bikini unclad torsos
And fabricated photo-shopped femmes fatal
Only to themselves

Rush (Limbaugh) scoffs
At Michelle (Obama’s) vision for natural healthy living
Bending in the garden to plant the seeds of
Self-confident children fed on foods that
Spring from mother earth and not in Petri dishes
Cancer-causing concoctions
Zero calories, zero life force

Rush (Limbaugh) scoffs and says
“Well, she ain’t exactly a swimsuit model herself!”
and I think
No.
She is not.
And I thank god.
Because it is her abundant realness that exudes a strength and stillness
That says to me there is a fullness of
Womanity
Which gives me the courage to strut my
38-31-40 five foot nothing self
with potent pride that rejoices
in the double digit dress size of
The Goddess of Love
And I can call to the silvery moon in my own alabaster nakedness
Aphrodite is our muse
We are all Venus
And we are all called to be
Voluptuous.

Convergences

Today my daughter, Kiri, lost her first tooth and my daughter, Mari, stopped believing in Santa Claus. And this makes me quite sad in the wistful sense. It's why I think Peter Pan is one of the most brilliant books ever written. Why generation upon generation is drawn to Holden Caulfield. The process of growing up, of letting go of the things and stuff of childhood signals a kind of passage, almost a kind of death, really. It's when you know that something is gone, it won't ever be able to be retrieved. I feel quite pleased that Mari believed in Santa Claus through to sixth grade. I feel like I accomplished instilling a sense of wonder and enchantment that was able to last even a few months past her getting her first cell phone. She wanted to know "the truth" tonight because of Kiri's tooth. For some moments there, while she was adamant about the non-existence of Santa, she still kind of believed in the Tooth Fairy. Because all these years, the tooth fairy has been writing notes to her, explaining why she forgot to bring the money for a couple of days, or demanding that she take better care of her teeth. When Mari lost her last tooth, she even left a present for the Tooth Fairy. Tonight the Tooth Fairy showed Mari where she'd been keeping all her teeth and Mari wrote the note as Kiri's Tooth Fairy and she said she was happy to know the truth, but happy to now be part of the magic.

They say that you get a little hit of dopamine every time you check your e-mail or FB status. It's probably similar to what might have happened when you went to the mailbox years ago and found a personal letter. It's the feeling of human contact, connection, that the internet has both wondrously given and yet paradoxically surreptitiously stolen away. It's New Year's Eve and I'm sitting on the couch, roaring fire-- well not as roaring now, comfy-- but alone. My children were chomping at the bit to go to the neighbor's home whose dog we are caring for while she parties in NYC at the "largest singles party in the city." So I'm now actually alone right now. Me and my geriatric dog and even more geriatric cat. Dying fire, dying animals, dying year. Whoah-- that's a bit pessimistic. I'm not feeling down. I'm just feeling--- blah. New Year's Eve always feels that way to me. It's so anti-climactic. There is the build up to Christmas-- which always seems to deliver-- but New Year's has the hype and none of the magic. Maybe I'm sad-- because I'm spending yet another holiday without my love. The kids could soak up all the love on Christmas-- Christmas doesn't even count if there aren't children around. But New Year's-- you need someone to kiss at midnight. Sure-- I can kiss the kiddos. I can even get a furry kiss from the geriatric animals. But this night has that hype of love and passion and being with the person of your dreams---. I'm lucky-- he's in my life-- he's just not here right now-- and for that I feel fortunate-- for New Year's Eve is rough for all the legit single people--- if it's lonely enough for me and I'm only temporarily single. So--- to all of you-- who wish New Year's Eve didn't have all the hype of romance-- I'm with you--that's why I spent two hours on Facebook tonight, people-- getting all those hits of dopamine.

Just saw James Cameron's AVATAR and can say I'm much more in agreement with the critics that taut it as a groundbreaking phenomenal movie rather than on the side of folk who are saying "old story, wooden dialogue." Yes, it is an old story, as old as Medea and Jason, it's essentially parts of the Illiad. But what Cameron has done is create a new world into which to place this old story. And other critics, too, argue that the film is too political. Sure, it is political, but if we as a domineering nation read into Cameron's script as being critical of the U.S. that's because that's who we are. ANY domineering, imperialistic nation that believes that those who will not bend to their will are inferior and "savage" will see the same thing. This post-colonial world has many villains, yet, as Cameron's film portrays there are as many conflicted "former" conquerors, who realize the rights of the natives-- albeit sometimes too late. However, in Hollywood, it's never too late. Too bad we can't have the tree of life sort things out in the Middle East.

I've lost track of how many Christmasses of the 19 that Steve and I have known one another that we've been apart. It's probably close to half. This is the first year, however, where I actually had to be the only adult in the morning. Usually I'm at my parents' house, or I have my brother or a visiting friend or something. But this time I did the whole Christmas morning thing on my own. And it wasn't so bad. Because my kids are awesome and Christmas is awesome. But it still would have been a whole lot better if Steve were here.