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Sparkle (1)
First things first. The woman in this picture is not me. I'm talking especially to those of you who know me. Now, for those among you who do not know me and have never seen a picture of me, I will permit you, just this once, to visualize the Midlife Second Wife as resembling, somewhat, this paragon of pulchritude. Except imagine her wearing glasses.
And to those among you who do not know the identity of the woman in the picture, patience. All will be revealed in due time.
Last month I entered an essay contest sponsored by the actress Marlo Thomas on her Facebook page. (Perhaps you've heard of her?) Incidentally, the woman in the above picture is not Marlo Thomas. This is Marlo Thomas:
Ms. Thomas is starring in the Broadway hit Relatively Speaking, which is a collection of three one-act comedies, all directed by actor John Turturro (Barton Fink, Quiz Show, The Cradle Will Rock). The plays are Talking Cure, written by filmmaker Ethan Coen (Fargo, The Big Lebowski, No Country for Old Men); George is Dead, written by actress, screenwriter, and director Elaine May (The Heartbreak Kid, Heaven Can Wait, The Birdcage), and Honeymoon Hotel, written by Woody Allen (Midnight in Paris, Annie Hall, Manhattan). Ms. Thomas stars in George is Dead as Doreen, a woman whose husband has just died. Yes, I said this is a comedy.
Ms. Thomas invited friends of her Facebook page to submit their very best essays about a family member. The essays, she advised, could be funny or poignant, but they had to represent one's best work. Five winners would be selected, and they each would receive a pair of tickets to see Relatively Speaking.
Yesterday I received an e-mail from Ms. Thomas' assistant telling me that I was one of the winners.
Have you ever been in a situation where you've received incredibly amazing news and, due to the circumstances, were unable to adequately express your true feelings? I think I pulled a muscle trying to curb my enthusiasm. I was in a meeting with our financial planner at the time, happened to glance at my iPhone while she was looking something up, and saw the e-mail.
I need a new word for thrilled. Also for gobsmacked, jazzed, stoked, excited, happy, and on-cloud-nine.
Here's the announcement from Ms. Thomas' Facebook Page. If you click on the link you'll probably have to scroll down a bit, so to save you the trouble I've inserted it here:
I'm so excited to announce the winners of my Relatively Speaking essay contest! Thanks to all who entered. The winners are.... Siobahn Weiss, Anthony Martin, Nina Meditz, Kathleen Marshall, and Marci Rich. We will email you the play vouchers shortly!
John and I are now scrambling to make plans to get to New York. The tickets are valid from today through December 1. Yes. That's right. Just one more thing to add to my to-do list during National Blog Posting Month.
Marlo (may I call you Marlo?), thank you for choosing my essay. John and I can't wait to see the play. I hope I'll have the chance to thank you in person after the performance.
And now, about that woman at the top of the page. She's a central figure in my essay, so if you can just hold on a moment longer, you will soon know all.
"That Not Lollobrigida!”
Sunday nights meant only one thing when I was a child: a drive to Lorain, Ohio, with my mother and father, to visit my Sicilian grandmother.
Grandma Monia, my mother’s mother, was a widow who lived in the family home with the youngest of her four children, my unmarried Aunt Helen. Grandma spoke very little English; she had arrived at Ellis Island, as did so many immigrants, early in the 20th-century.
An only child, I was the youngest of my cousins. By the time I came along, my grandmother was so hobbled by arthritis and osteoporosis that she was confined to the house, and walked, doubled over, with the help of a cane on wheels. Because of this, her world was small. It contained a window, though: the flickering light of the black and
