hoo-ray for hollyhood

it's been another one of those weeks.

something i fully expected to come through, didn't. dad was rushed to the hospital with pneumonia. my bff's dad was also rushed to the hospital with symptoms of pneumonia. and as if all that weren't enough to make me hypertensive, being force-fed a steady diet of the chris brown-rihanna beatdown truly made me wanna walk on rusty nails.

but some cool things happened last week, too. on wednesday, my new nikon d200 body arrived in a beautiful gold box. trust me when i tell you i was so awed by it that i didn't even remove it from the box for two days! it's a pretty thing. the night it arrived i officially launched mikiphoto. the next day i had my first two clients.

this new venture is really the culmination of a dream. i've been passionate about capturing images since i was 5 and got my first camera, a kodak brownie. since then i've moved on to a variety of polaroids, followed by more kodaks. i didn't actually get my first slr until my sophomore year in college when i enrolled in a photography class. i replaced it a few years later when i studied with one of the original life magazine photographers at boston university.

i still have my first body--a minolta srt 201--and it ranks among my favorite cameras ever. but i now use nikons exclusively. i've lost count of how many i have but they've all served me well for the past 27 years. the new one, however, is a little intimidating so i asked my friend leroy hamilton, a brilliant shutterbug, to help me get to know this new beast. he was tremendously helpful.

leroy's 2-hour tutorial helped me prepare for mikiphoto's first clients--two young women who were celebrating their 27th year on the planet by throwing a party on the top floor of a hollyhood club with no name. i was happy for the business, but as the night wore on i was even more elated actually to have the experiences--in and out of the club.

it's been a while since i've been on that scene and i found myself wondering if i had ever been that girl?

had i been the kind of girl who would willingly stand in line to get into a club? did i ever spend half my check on club gear, club admission and overpriced club drinks? and did i ever travel in a pack, thereby lessening my chances of meeting mr. right or his buddy mr. wrong?

well, last night i was the smart girl who left her flat about three hours before the games began because parking in hollyhood is always a nightmare--particularly on a weekend night. it took me about 20 minutes of driving up and down sunset to find a free spot that was about five blocks away from the club. to kill some time i bopped into amoeba--an oasis for music and film junkies. but as i was perusing the dvd bins upstairs, i became a hungry girl.

i needed a slice.

there are at least 20 pizza places in l.a. that purportedly make new york-style pizza. most, with the exception of mulberry street in beverly hills, don't even come close. but this greco joint on the corner of hollyhood and cahuenga was undeniably authentic and very, very tasty.

this girl was satisfied.

eating pizza at a joint on the corner with eclectic crazies all around me reminded me of times square before it turned into disneyland. that slice not only hit the spot but it inspired me to do something i've never ever done in the 16 years i've lived here.

i was going to explore hollyhood by foot. it's an amazing place.

first, i had to go back to the car and pick up my camera bag. i still had at least 2 hours to kill before the party. with my old nikon around my neck--i wasn't quite ready to break in the new one yet--i headed back to hollyhood blvd. there i saw a lot of teens traveling in packs, some "hollyhood" types hanging outside hot spot kress, a small assortment of homeless men (no women) and some cops. for some reason i wanted to know all of their back stories.

but since it would have been rather impolite to ask them, i made them up as i walked past them.

i wish i could be that girl.

those street scenes, however, in no way prepared me for what was about to happen outside the club with no name. i was standing in line behind one man and his three female friends. i was immediately annoyed by the manchild. perhaps, needing to hear the sound of his own broken english, he began berating his companions--referring to them as "drunk asses."

he wasn't just jawing. the scantily dressed trio of divas with weavas were lit but one of them appeared to be a little more so than the others. when it became apparent that what ever she had been drinking was not going to remain in her stomach for too much longer, her two girlfriends tried in vain to convince the bouncers to let them in so they could take her to the loo.

too late. one, two, three--oh god, thar she blows!

i know i was never that girl.

thankfully, she and her crew were bounced from the line. five minutes later someone came and poured bleach and sanitizer on her accident.

since the party wasn't supposed to start until 11, i grabbed a seat adjacent to the dance floor and watched the parade. there were a plethora of fools who thought that they were too cool for the room and scores of women in spandex--many of whom shouldn't have been.

i wasn't that girl either. spandex makes me itch.

once i started shooting the guests memories of my own club days flooded my brain. i recalled the days when me and my crew couldn't wait to hit the club. we even had our own theme song.

"the men all pause when i walk into the room."

yeah, we thought we were all that back in the day. and you know what? we were. we really were. we drank, but never had to have anyone hold our real hair up in the bathroom. we danced and flirted and talk s--t. and we always went home with at least five phone numbers unless we had found "the one" for that night.

since the women outnumbered the men, i seriously doubt if any of them found "the one" last night. but i suspect that's not why some of them are here. sometimes it's just cool to tell folks you went to the club last night.

i might have been that girl.

by 1 a.m. the party was winding down and the guests were making their ways to the exits. it had been a very nice affair. there was dancing, a little drinking, chatting, birthday cake, celebrating and networking. the difference between these people and the ones i had met downstairs was that they apparently knew when to leave the party.

i could identify with that. i am that girl.

feets don't fail me now--puhlees!

ok. you know how some people are always a little apprehensive when they have to go to the doctor?

i've never been that person.

usually, the main reason i hate going is because i'd rather stay in bed or wherever else i might be. this morning was no exception. after being prematurely awakened by a pesky east coast editor who can't tell time, the last thing i wanted to do was get dressed and make the 2-mile trek down to cedars on my bike. my bed was begging me not to go.

besides, this was to be my third doctor's visit in less than a month. just eight days ago i'd gone in for my annual physical and was slightly distressed when dr. peters discovered some unsettling things pertaining to my health--or lack thereof.

• one, i was vitamin d deficient and would have to start taking supplements--again (that kind of thing comes and goes in waves because i hate taking pills).
• two, since my mother, her mother and maternal aunt had all had some form of cancer, i might be genetically predisposed to that unwelcome occurrence, too, someday and needed to convince my mother to take some costly genetic screening test to see if i would be adversely affected by the outcome.
• and three, i was told that i might develop arthritis in my flat feet unless i started wearing orthotics. worse yet, my feet could very well be responsible for the perpetual lower back pain i've been experiencing since my last birthday.

joy.

i eventually decided not to cancel or postpone tuesday's appointment but what i thought was going to be a pretty routine office visit soon turned into me being the guinea pig du jour at cedars for a world renown podiatrist. trust, after hearing the price of the orthotics (steep even with insurance), i was actually on my way out to "think about it" when dr. oswell, a lovely woman who has cradled my feet on at least three previous occasions, introduced me to dr. dude (sorry, can't remember his name) just as i was lacing up my sneakers.

her: "would you mind having dr. dude look at you? he's written the books we all study."
me: "uh..."
her: "if you stay you'll get a huge discount on your orthotics."
me: "otay."
her: "you're very lucky he's here. this is a good, good thing."

he was good. there was something very sensual about the way he caressed my feet so i trusted him immediately--even when he started using terms i didn't understand and those i did such as "abnormal." all the other doctors were taking notes and asking questions.

mental note: shouldn't i be a little concerned about my doctor asking dr. dude questions? shouldn't she know this stuff by now? it's been at least 20 years since med school!

i spent the next 40 minutes walking up and down the hallway so that the doctors could examine my gait. it was distressing to hear things like: "can't walk straight," "one hip is higher than the other," "oooh, that bone is in the wrong place," "if we had caught this when she was 10...," and "uh-oh, does that mean?"

me: "what, what?!"

after the x-rays, which revealed even more abnormalities, i'd grown way weary of playing porky. it's one thing to be examined by a purported expert but quite another to take all of this mental abuse just because you wanted to toss your corrective shoes after the third grade and wear penny loafers like all of your friends.

sorry, yet another repressed childhood memory resurfacing in the midnight hour.

so, what does all this mean for lil' miki? i'm not quite sure yet. i have to go back in two weeks to see drs. oswell and dude. although dr. dude is retired and lives in the mountains outside of l.a., he's purportedly making a special trip back to cedars just to share his findings with me and the rest of the class.

i have officially joined the ranks of the apprehensive.

but since i still need my feets i guess i'll have to get over it. i've got a few more pick-up games in me, a lot more tennis, a lifetime of golf and i still love kicking it in my manolos--the most comfortable heels i've ever worn.

hopefully manolo makes a corrective slingback.

to be loved by duke

at this moment in time i'm supposed to be saluting some friends and acquaintances at essence magazine's 2nd annual black women in hollywood luncheon at the beverly hills hotel. but, when i opened my eyes at 10 a.m. today, i immediately realized how difficult it was going to be to attend yet another masturbatory hollywood award season opus.

it so doesn't matter.

it became even harder to motivate myself after receiving some news on my facebook page that rocked my world.

"Melissa invited you to 'Melissa Duke-Mooney Memorial Service' on Sunday,
February 22 at 2:30pm."

because of the way it was worded i honestly thought it was some kind of joke. i had just read duke's last irreverent status update a few days ago. she was fine.

but then i read the rest.

Event: Melissa Duke-Mooney Memorial Service
What: Ceremony
Host: Neil Mooney
Start Time: Sunday, February 22 at 2:30pm
End Time: Sunday, February 22 at 3:30pm
Where: Eastwood Christian Church

naturally, i was like wtf? i quickly pulled up duke's facebook page and after sifting through dozens of sympathy messages i realized that this was no joke. my girl, melissa duke, was no longer breathing and i had no idea why.

i immediately contacted two mutual friends--lisa and claire. claire was the first to respond. she wrote that duke had been in intense pain monday night, slipped into a coma on tuesday and was gone early wednesday. bacterial meningitis. then i had the unenviable task of informing lisa, who was at the hospital with her young son and hadn't heard the news.

like many of duke's friends i am stunned and shocked beyond words. duke provided a significant amount of our daily light. she was equal parts sun and moon. and at 41, still very young.

naturally, at times like these your mind is awash with memories. duke and i first met at a press junket. at the time she was a publicist for fox and i was the pop culture columnist for the fort worth star-telegram. i fell in love with her instantly because she was so outside the norm for a studio flak. duke exuded warmth, seemed genuinely interested in who you were as a person and didn't really involve herself in the journo class wars--"the my paper is bigger than yours, etc. bs." she treated everyone the same regardless of circulation figures or tax bracket.

our time together in l.a. was brief because she and her husband packed up their bags and moved southeast to nashville. i was truly saddened but understood perfectly when she said, "it's about quality of life issues."

throughout the ensuing years duke and i kept in touch. i remember getting the first pictures her oldest daughter and then chastising her for not sending photos of the second baby in a timely manner. we also used to bump into each other from time-to-time at various junkets. she would always take care of me. and, one of my great pleasures was jumpstarting the friendship between duke and lisa, when lisa and her family moved to nashville.

last year when i started this journal--because that's what it really is as opposed to being a blog--duke was one of the first to send her love. she wrote:

"I just wanted to let you know that I've been reading your blog....and I LOVE your voice. It is clear, true and feels like a friend. You have a gift with words but it seems the way you see the world....the way you prioritize (for lack of a better word) is your true gift. Your words inspire and have got me thinking more about my own priorities.

I know we only pass each other in junket life....barely knowing one another really but I am enjoying reading you - getting to know the real you. Thanks for sharing.

Continue to find the beauty.
xo Melissa

P.S. I have some tomatoes for you - get to Nashville!!"

i'm so glad i saved that note. i always will. yet, i'm saddened that she perhaps didn't realize that she was more than just a junket pal.

i'm sorry duke.

i'm sorry that it took your death to hammer home an age-old cliche. you really do have to tell folks how much you love them while they're still here.

c u later girlfriend. xox

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.