say wot?!!

this is a happy day.

three thousand years ago when i was a grad student at BU/harvard, my friend denis peycher introduced me to a song that would eventually come to define that most enjoyable time. i had it on tape but god only knows at what point my parents threw away that era of my life that was once stored in the family garage.

For years all i could remember of that song was the beat line, "say captain, say wot" and not the artist. today i typed in that phrase in on my itunes account and bingo!

denis, who was from paris, was fond of european hip hop. he was always listening to songs in languages none of us could understand. i was initially introduced to him by my friend elisa gaffney from london. we called her spoon because of her family's wealth. all of us were part of a group of students who had formed a club called SPC (School of Public Communications) International. Among the members were people from egypt (anwar sadat's daughter), the uk, south africa, spain, italy, france, greece, malaysia, canada, germany, mexico, brooklyn, ireland, india, switzerland and sweden.

i'd like to say that our motley crew spent a considerable amount of time at cafes poring over pertinent world events but we really didn't do very much of that. our days (in between classes) were spent at rumple's, a precursor to starbucks just across the street from SPC. but we spent most of our time perusing that wine store on harvard ave. (two bottles for $5), stocking up on refreshments for our nightly chat fests.

with a group so complex and diverse the only things we generally didn't talk about were religion and politics. our gatherings were really all about the cultural exchange. we were all fascinated by our respective life stories and i am a wiser and more enlightened person now because of those meetings.

denis, however, was somewhat of an instigator--always making fun of the trust fund babies, of which there were many. he would also make cracks about the brits and our one indian friend who was having difficulty adjusting to life without "servants." denis also introduced me to gay life 101 and convinced all of us to accompany him to buddy's one night, a famous gay bar in the copley square area. it was the first and only time that i've ever danced all night long without once sitting down.

one night i suggested we have a surprise birthday party for spoon even though it wasn't her birthday. spoon was in on the ruse but felt guilty once everyone started bringing her presents and spilled the beans. i was in charge of the music and as a former dee-jay, it was a welcome assignment. it was the early '80s and disco had pretty much run its course. at that time i was listening to a lot of duran duran, journey, hall & oates, rick james, michael jackson, police, spandau ballet, culture club, marvin gaye, prince, thomas dolby, lionel richie, after the fire, kajagoogoo, earth, wind & fire, men at work and clash.

i made a mix tape (god, remember cassettes?) and took it over to spoon's back bay studio where the jam was being held. we were all rocking (with spoon's weak-ass speakers) when denis shows up with this vinyl. "you've got to play this," he said.

i was a little leery. i'd never heard of the artist or the cut and didn't want to damper the flow. but he kept insisting and to this day, i'm glad he did. the "captain" song became our party staple along with "she blinded me with science," "dancing on the ceiling" and "rock the cashbah."

so, today i've been ushered back to a time when i was happily unfocused, absolutely immature and totally enjoying the experiences of a lifetime. although denis and i both moved to new york at the same time after school and kept in touch for many years afterward, i suppose i should have suspected something was amiss when the christmas cards stopped coming. it wasn't until i had reconnected with gilles, another SPCI friend, about four years ago. he informed me that denis had been dead for just over a decade. AIDS. denis had contracted the disease from tom, another SPCI member from sweden. tom died while denis and i were still in touch but it never occured to me...

i had also lost touch with spoon. she returned to london and eventually married and had three kids. two years ago i was able to track her husband down through a random press release and we were happily reunited in london in '07. it was the first time we'd seen each other in 22 years.


mitch, the only other american member of the group, has moved from brooklyn to manhattan and is a vp at one of the largest pr firms on the planet. gilles runs an AIDS center in manhattan, russ has gone back to canada and i suspect the others are all doing well wherever they are.

today, i'm really missing all of them--even francine, the skinny and arrogant winch from paris whom none of us really ever liked.

tonight i'll lift a glass in their honor while i'm listening to da captain. take a listen.

miss rosa revisited

today's visit to the nursing home resulted in a couple more surprises. first, i ran into an old neighbor who actually works with alzheimer's patients at the facility. two, miss rosa, who was all over me monday with hugs and kisses, didn't remember who i was on tuesday.

oh well.

i wasn't really disappointed because she's at an age where the memory is the first to go. and besides, she was still warm and friendly. so much so that i got up the nerve to ask her some questions. yes, she is from germany and has been in the states since the '60s. and yes, she did recall the war and said, "i could never understand the hatred. it was so stupid. it made me sick."

again, it was hard to understand miss rosa as her accent after more than 40 years in this country is still really thick. but she did tell me she enjoyed her birthday and that her daughter had sent her some new kicks, a pair of walking shoes which she proudly showed off by lifting her right leg.

it's good to know she has somebody.

as for dad, he's still not eating the way he should and that concerns all of us. he was a little reflective today. he recently lost his first cousin in atlanta, a gem of a man who kept that side of the family together and popping. dad hated that he had to miss his funeral.

"i was just thinking back when i was a boy," he said wistfully. "i think i should have stayed in atlanta longer because i never got an opportunity to know any of my family." dad's father brought him to ohio when he was just a boy and he didn't get to know many of his relatives until much later in life. i only saw my paternal grandmother about three times in my life and each time she never knew who i was.

i wonder if rosa still misses her family back home--if she has any regrets.

perhaps i'll find out tomorrow.

rosa

god knows i hate hospitals and nursing homes. i loathe the smells, the sights and the sounds of them. if my dad wasn't in one, i'd never ever go near one. but after yesterday's visit i dislike them a little less.

on monday after stops at two malls and a grocery store i drove up to the extended care facility my dad now calls home. he was a little listless and was lying across his bed when i arrived. after about 15 minutes of small talk he suggested that we go sit out in the lobby. we opted to sit around the big conference table in the sun, across the hall from where a few folks were watching a big-screen TV. seated at the table with us was a woman i had recognized from the day before when i had lunch with dad in the facility's dining room.

her name was rosa and she was very lively. as dad repeatedly beat me at tonk, a game i hadn't played since college, rosa was talking to everyone that passed by. she had a thick german accent and at times see-sawed between english and german.

i'm not sure she realized she was doing that.

at one point she looked over at me, attempting to put together a child's casper the friendly ghost puzzle and marveled at how well i was doing. she also informed me that it was her birthday as she sorted through the snacks that a nurse had just given her.

"look at what they have given me!" she said in broken english. "it's my birthday!"

"well, happy birthday!" i said enthusiastically.

rosa smiled and went on about her snacks and how she loved lemon pop. it was really hard to understand her at times so i just smiled and nodded. she offered me a cookie and i gave it to my dad because i'm not really trying to eat nursing home food! she asked if he were my father or grandfather, but i couldn't determine what she said after my response.

it was my understanding, however, that spending your birthday in a nursing home with relative strangers probably wasn't emotionally satisfying. where was her family? did she have one? what about friends? my thoughts were broken up by another woman who had joined us at the table. this woman, apparently near deaf, was clearly agitated because she was strapped to her wheelchair. she kept screaming at the nurses and aides and told one of them, "i feel like i'm dying!" she said it so loudly i'm sure she woke up st. peter.

and, across the hall, when a man started mumbling loudly to himself. rosa, in perfect english told him to "keep it down over there!"

i almost fell off my chair.

just after these incidents--rather events--my mother rang, asking me to make yet another kroger's stop to pick up some pot pies for her dinner. i kissed dad and patted rosa on her shoulder and said "happy birthday miss rosa." she smiled and waved goodbye. as i made my way down the long hall to the exit i began wondering who rosa was and why was she here? was she a holocaust survivor? i couldn't help thinking that she was a great story needing to be told.

on my way to the grocery store i was consumed with thoughts about how she must be feeling. it was her birthday and she's in a nursing home with no family in sight, surrounded by a bunch of people with varying degrees of dementia and celebrating with hard cookies and a can of pop.

that was so lame.

it occured to me that i might be in rosa's wheelchair one day. that's when i knew i had to do something for her and for me. i bought rosa a birthday cake and some candles.

i'm glad i did. i will always remember the look on her face and the way she squeezed my hand and kissed it when i put the cake in front of her and said: "birthday girls should have cake on their birthdays." she then kissed both my cheeks, put her arms around my waist and ordered me--in her broken english--to kiss her cheeks, too.

with perishables in the car, i had to drop and run but i hated to leave her--alone. again.

i hope that random act of kindness made her day. i hope she knows that she's not alone.

i never asked rosa one question during the time i spent with her on monday but i learned so much just by being in her presence.

i kind of feel like it's my birthday.

pappy

i suppose even in our collective delusion, we knew that kalvin marcelle hicks sr., a man who never met a bottle of hennessy he didn't like, was not long for this world.

last year, the man we called pappy was diagnosed with inoperable lung cancer. soon after that devastating news we learned that the cancer had metastasized in his back. still, being the believer that i am, i was sure that pappy had a few more parties left in him.

i remained confident even after the frequent hospital stays, the transformation of his once lively voice into a raspy whisper, the termination of his chemo and radiation treatments and lastly after learning that he'd gotten a visit from a hospice nurse on saturday.

even after all of that today's news was still shocking.

i was making the 2.5 mile trek back home from the larchmont farmer's market this morning on my bike when i got a call from my dear friend mary. we had been missing each other for the past 24 hours. i was halfway home when mary informed me that she was on her way back to the hospital. pappy, her husband of nearly 28 years, had been having trouble breathing due to the fluid in his lungs and had requested that she ring 9-1-1.

"i'm so tired miki," she said wistfully.

"i know you are," i responded softly.

about an hour after that call--and about 40 minutes after i had spread the word to the sorors on the east coast--mary rang back. she was crying.

"i just wanted to tell you that pappy just breathed his last breath. call your mother and tell her you love her."

at the time i felt like i was inhaling my last bit of air, too. there's a weird thing that happens when you get really bad news. your brain really stops functioning and you never say the things you're thinking or feeling, thereby making you feel emotionally bankrupt. and, on top of my inability to articulate, i was just stunned. not only had i not fully grasped the seriousness of the situation earlier, but i had spent far too much time bitching about my mother's bitching to comfort my friend in a time of obvious need.

denial.

after absorbing the news i immediately started making another round of calls and texts. like me, everyone, everywhere was shocked and saddened that we had lost such a vibrant personality at age 50. pappy never went to college but he had become a favorite fixture at hampton homecomings. he drew everyone in. we all adored him. he truly was one of the lovliest and most geniune people i've ever met.

i did eventually ring mom but it's been a real struggle for me to get through the remainder of the day. i kept one eye on the meaningless, muted awards show on the telly while attempting to come up with enough clever prose to make all of my monday deadline stories sing. that was tremendously difficult. the chronic insomnia has me barely functioning on a good day and with this news i was unable to concentrate for more than a few seconds at a time.

but i've got to get it together. i've got to be there for my friend, who is experiencing the unimaginable pain of losing her best friend.

pappy, if they have hennessy up in heaven go ahead and put it on my tab.

watching the night go by

there we were sitting in row q, seats 1, 2 & 3 of the west angeles church of god in sequins--sorry, i meant christ--cathedral with thousands of other people. me, jackie and anita. three highly skilled media professionals ready to write the next chapters of our lives as we happily said goodbye to the not-so-great '08.

we, like so many other people who had entered the sanctuary on dec. 31, were more than ready to get off pity parkway and alter our respective courses. jackie would like her personal life to be as stable as her professional one. anita is looking to get out of a shaky job situation. and me, i just want shalom in the home, a great gig and a cure for my chronic insomnia.

but even though i had a firece headache and the black-eyed peas i'd eaten hours beforehand weren't agreeing with me, everything was on point during the service. the music was inspiring as was bishop blake's message. he had us all convinced that everything was going to be mighty fine in '09.

it already is.

normally, the three of us would not ever be together socially. and honestly, i didn't even want to go and not just because i wasn't feeling well. yet, god saw fit to bring us together tonight so he could reinforce his promise three-fold.

he's got our back.

and that's a good thing because he probably wasn't too happy when all three of us were responding to all those "happy new year" text messages from our friends back east while bishop blake was delivering the word.

it must have gotten through, however.

jackie, anita and i entered west a last night with an unwanted and uninvited friend called complacency, but we left this morning with our new best friend named hope.

a couple of days in her presence

"Just before Eartha Kitt steps on stage tonight at Hollywood's Roosevelt Hotel Cinegrill, Eartha Mae will be waiting in the wings with a nervous stomach."Don't laugh. I'm a terribly shy, terribly inward person. It's rejection. I'm always afraid of rejection. I'll be all glamorous and vomiting." That's our Eartha Mae. Eartha Mae is the force inside Eartha Kitt. It was Eartha Mae,..." Miki Turner, The Orange County Register, July 26, 1995

in the summer of '95 i had just wrapped up my first season of covering the los angeles lakers and clippers for the orange county register and needed a challenge. i found out eartha kitt was playing at the cinegrill club inside hollywood's historic roosevelt hotel, and decided it was time i crossed the aisle--again.

i went over to the features department and pitched a story on kitt to cary darling--a guy who really lives up to his name--and he agreed, but said to keep it short.

when i arrived at the roosevelt on that warm july day, i was told to go to suite 501.

i rang the bell.

kitt's manager, an older guy with an abundance of charm, opened the door. sitting on the floor about 10 feet behind him was a really old woman wearing a terry cloth robe with a scarf around her head. i was just about to ask where miss kitt was when the woman's eyes locked in on my own.

deep.

initially, i thought that the old woman on the floor speaking french to two white french poodles was eartha kitt. but as she got up to greet me, i soon realized i was speaking with eartha kitt's alter ego eartha mae, kitt's real name. i wouldn't meet eartha kitt until later that night at the club.

although kitt was best known for her sultry ballads, sex kitten persona and putting all four letters into the term "diva," eartha mae, who died today at 81 from colon cancer, was quite an animated character herself. during the hour or so i was with her we discussed a plethora of topics including the civil rights movement, that altercation she had with lady bird johnson, her daughter, her mens, race, playing catwoman, "santa baby," her dogs, growing up in the south, the ghosts of divas past and what had kept her motivated after all those years in the biz.

she was uniquely intriguing. and how ironic it is that the woman who cooed her way through the eternally sultry and seductive "santa baby" would pass on christmas day. that sister always knew how to make an entrance--and an exit.

i think the two of us connected because she realized i had done my homework and because i was really interested in her stories. there was no time limit on our interview, but whenever you're dealing with divas it's best not to waste their time with stupid or redundant questions. eartha mae seemed relieved to have an opportunity to reflect on the past--hers and eartha kitt's.

some of it was good, some of it was bad, some of it was ugly.

it was as though we were up in an attic going through old trunks. i was thrilled to help her sort through all of her baggage.

most of what was said that afternoon never made it into the paper. cary was gracious enough to give me some space in the register's weekly entertainment tab, but it was barely enough to say anything other than eartha kitt is playing the cinegrill. come. enjoy.

as i left her suite that day i told her i had just bought her latest cd and that i played her version of "moon river" every morning. she seemed stunned.

"You do?" she said softly. "thank you. thank you very much."

maybe the fact that i was actually listening to her music was some kind of validation for a performer in the twilight of her career. at thirtysomething i probably didn't fit the profile of the typical eartha kitt fan. later that night i realized i truly wasn't.

the cinegrill was filled with a lot of people who didn't look like me but i ended up bonding with a couple of guys from we-ho (west hollywood) who were seated at my table. these dudes could have been kitt's official biographers. they had books, album covers and all kinds of paraphernalia. they were positively giddy. also in the audience that night was ann miller--old hollywood royalty; and two-hit wonder freda payne, a delightful woman.

when the band started playing i was a little taken aback by eartha mae's transformation into eartha kitt. it was as if someone had clicked their heels three times and poof! the scarf had been replaced with a wig, the robe with a sequined gown and eartha mae now looked about 20 years younger in the proper lighting. it was a terrific show. kitt sang, purred, made a few jokes, acknowledged the celebs, interacted with a few fans and wrapped it up. afterwards i met up with her as she was taking photos with miller and payne. i have one of those shots.

i was so impressed with her show that i made arrangements with her manager to come back the next night with a girlfriend. when i tell you that i saw the same exact show i had seen the night before i am not exaggerating. it was like precision clockwork down to the questions she asked the audience. the only thing she did differently on that second night was smile when she spotted me at my table.

after that show we met again briefly. she grabbed my hand and said that she had loved the article i'd written. i hadn't been that happy with it--only because it was so short--but i was thrilled that she had validated my efforts.

i never saw either eartha again after that night. but when people ask me who are some of the coolest people i've interviewed, she's always at the top of the list. the time i spent with eartha kitt was memorable because she introduced me to eartha mae, a person not everyone got an opportunity to meet.