Recently, Dear Readers, my eye happen to land on this “Miss Manners” column in the Tribune.
Bravo, Miss Manners! I couldn’t have said it better myself.
But her answer struck a fifty year old nerve just the same.
I realize that many of you have been blessed in the in-law department but today I want to showcase “The Mother-in-law from Hell.”
Just as a public service.
This woman taught me everything I know about being dreadful. And I owe her a big debt of gratitude.
She was my roadmap on how NOT to be a mother-in-law.
Bossy, possessive, demanding, she ran the show from the minute my boyfriend and I announced our intentions to wed.
She took the bit in her teeth and never let up.
For example:
She picked out my engagement ring (She knew the jeweler blah blah blah. She also knew what shape I wanted, I guess. I had zero input in this choice.)
She picked all the china, silver and crystal for my bridal registry. (She thought I was way too young and too inexperienced to know what was good crystal or not. Hence her choices.)
She picked the wedding date.
She picked the wedding band.
She picked the venue.
She put my wedding announcement in the papers. (Incorrectly, I might add.)
Early on in the engagement, she also announced that as she had three sons and no daughters, I was to be her daughter– not her daughter-in-law. Henceforth, she decreed, I was to call her “Mother.”
At nineteen, I was too young to argue with her. And too uncomfortable to call her “Mother.” MY mother was “Mom.” So all this fiat meant was that I called her by no name at all and would address my husband’s parents from then on as “You.”
I know all this stuff must sound petty and trivial after almost fifty years, but I can assure you that I have never forgotten the high-handed and bullying way she treated me.
Her rudeness and jealousy knew no bounds. She would call our house and if I had the misfortune to answer the phone, she’d bark, “Is ___there?”
No “Hello, Ellen,” no nothing.
Just “Is ___there?”
And there were other ugly incidents. Clashes and name-calling that all ended with a quick, sad trip to the divorce court.
As I said though, it was a good lesson. I never want my daughter-in-law or son-in-law to think that I’m a jealous, interfering old biddy. I think that I try very hard to give them the space and respect that I never received.
Does the name “Gorgeous George” mean anything to you? Or how about “Sailor Art Thomas,” “Sweet Daddy Siki,” or “Bruno Sammartino?”
Can you recite “The Crusher Golden Rule?”
(Answer: Do Unto Others- Before They Can Do It To You.)
If all this brings a smile to your face and a shiver up and down your spine, congratulations!
You remember the Golden Age of television wrestling.
I know. I know. These days, the average wrestler on the main roster of the WWE makes $500,000, while their top performers make well into seven figures.
But these new superstars are just…I don’t know… too wholesome or too fit or something. They somehow pale in comparison with the colorful, gritty guys who twelve-year-old me and my eight year old brother used to thrill to on Saturday nights.
All in glorious, grainy black and white.
Take a look.
Let’s start with the Liberace of Wrestling. The man who made wrestling the perfect spectacle for early tv viewing.
Gorgeous George.
Ah. Those were the good old days. Even us dopey kids knew the violence was fake. (Much like The Three Stooges- another fave on our Sentinel tv set.)
This was the Eisenhower, Pleasantville era when no one had ever heard of the term”roid rage” and Mom and Dad were coming home by 11:30 and all would be well.
Now let’s turn our set back to the past and watch some of these terrific guys in action.
Wasn’t that awesome?
Or how about these two wonderboys of the wrestling ring in a tag team match?
Reggie Lisowski- aka The Crusher- grew up in Milwaukee where he played high school football. He started wrestling during his stint in the Army during World War II.
After the war, he wrestled several times a week around Chicago while working as a bricklayer during the day to makes ends meet.
He joined Vern Gagne’s AWA circuit in 1963 and went on to win three World Championships and five Tag Team Championships- several with his long-time partner, Dick the Bruiser.
And remember The Destroyer? Watch as his very cool inverted “airplane spin” devastates his opponent. (Sorry about no audio.)
And talk about signature moves. Who didn’t thrill to the famous “coco butt” of Bobo Brazil?
Here’s another classic move. The knee drop!
Watch as Harley Race executes it perfectly. (Sorry no sound again. But you can imagine the crowd cheering.)
Well, I think I hear Mom and Dad pulling in the driveway. I better shut off the tv and get to bed.
But I think I’ll let The Crusher have the final say on the whole matter.
…So on August 1 1971, I was on my second honeymoon at the Tidewater Inn on Maryland’s historic Eastern Shore.
I can’t recall too much of the honeymoon but I do remember that this television show debuted.
I was blown away.
By Cher, of course.
Who wasn’t? Her look! Her hair! Her clothes! Her feisty, cock-sure attitude!
Her belly button!
She was all of twenty-five- only four years older than me- but Cher became my role model then and there.
And with Mamma Mia 2 opening last week and The Cher Show set to debut at the Neil Simon Theatre on Broadway this fall, I’m guessing that I am not her only life-long fan.
Who else has had a career like hers? She went from record producer Sonny Bono’s starstruck teenaged gopher to his wife*** and co-singer with this huge hit under their hippie belts.
***Actually, I think at the time of the record’s release, they were not man and wife. But with the record’s unbelievable success, the powers that be thought they should make it legal pronto. So they tied the knot.
Here she is. Still very much Cherilyn Sarkisian- with her original nose.
But the shaggy vest and the bo-ho look didn’t last long.
Enter Bob Mackie.
Not since Audrey Hepburn wafted into Givenchy’s life had there been a better match made in designer/muse heaven.
Some of her outfits were pretty improbable.
But they matched Cher’s acting career arc perfectly.
We all watched as she went from a joke to broke to an Academy Award-winning actress.
And as for her singing…
Cher has set a record for her records that will probably never be equalled.
She is the only artist to date to have a number-one single on a Billboard chart in each decade since the 1960’s.
And in 1998, her “Believe” became the biggest-selling single of all time by a female artist.
Besides her Oscar, Cher has won a Grammy, an Emmy, and three Golden Globes.
And now at 72 she is still showing the world how to rock a look.
Cher gives me hope that there is life after seventy.
Dear Readers, some of you may have noticed that you had problems logging onto Letter From Elba on Thursday.
(Especially if you are Comcast customers. I think you AT&T and Verizon people were just fine.)
The last three days have been an ordeal of major proportions for me.
I was in Internet Hell. Comcast had inadvertently “flagged” my site and I couldn’t get on myself! I won’t go into the frustrating details and the zillions of calls I had to make to Costa Rica and the Dominican Republic to speak with their level 2 Security Assistance Department, but trust me. This was a rare and awful high tech fail.
I had to yell “fire” and put out an S.O.S. to Nick, my son- and more importantly- my IT guy- in Seattle.
After several days when the dust cleared, Comcast finally caught their internal bug that was causing all the grief and fixed it themselves.
But I am still a little unsure if the problem has completely resolved itself, hence today’s post will be published on Thursday.
I was a wreck from all this and I asked Nick if I could get any money back from Comcast. After all, I pay for their services.
Nick laughed. (And it was midnight in Seattle and he had put in a hard day’s work so it must have struck him as really funny.)
“Don’t even go there, Dude. They did this to Face Book and LinkedIn. Do you really think if they couldn’t take them to court, that you can get damages? At least you’re in good company.”
I think my long internet blacklist/whitelist nightmare is over.
This post is dedicated to Ellen Kander. A beautiful bearer of the name “Ellen.”
I’m sure the woman in the photograph needs no introduction. But she graces today’s post because we have something in common.
Of curse, it’s the name “Ellen.”
Ellen DeGeneres may be the most famous “Ellen” in the world. She might be the most famous “Ellen” in history.
That’s not so hard to do, Dear Readers.
No offense, but “Ellen” is just not a name that screams fame and fortune.
To put it simply, I just don’t like my name.
As a kid, I just didn’t think it suited me. It seemed ordinary, prosaic and bland.
And as an adult, I have seen no evidence that I was wrong.
But I wanted to be fair.
So recently, I looked it up the name “Ellen” on line and here’s what I found.
The name “Ellen” is derived from the Greek word “helios” and thus it means “ray of light” or “sunbeam.”
From ancient Greek mythology “Helen”- another derivation- was a name made famous by the beautiful Queen of Sparta. It was her legendary abduction by the love-smitten Paris that led to the Trojan War.
(If Edith Hamilton is not your favorite author, take a look at this version.)
And here is the name “Ellen” around the world. (I hate it when people call me “Helen,” but invariably the French, Spanish and Italians always do.)
Good news from Sweden, however. There the name “Ellen” is seventeenth in popularity.
(Here’s a pretty “Elin.”)
But according to Wikipedia, the name “Ellen” is 666th in popularity in the United States.
666?
Hmm.
It’s been two First Ladies’ names.
Chester A. Arthur and Woodrow Wilson’s wives were both named Ellen.
Ho hum.
The name “Ellen” isn’t real popular in television or movies, either.
Take a look at these lists and tell me if your favorite character is on them.
Characters named ELLEN from television
Ellen (Code Lyoko)
Ellen (Lipstick Jungle)
Ellen Behar (Profiler)
Ellen Darling (Dirty Sexy Money)
Ellen Harvelle (Supernatural)
Ellen Jackson (Mama’s House)
Ellen May (Justified)
Ellen Miller (Lassie)
Ellen Morgan (Ellen)
Ellen Parsons (Damages)
Ellen Stillfield (Designing Women)
Characters named ELLEN from movies
Ellen (The Best Man)
Ellen (The Burning Bed)
Ellen (Jumper)
Ellen (Talk Radio)
Ellen (Mary Poppins)
Ellen (My Sister’s Keeper)
Ellen (Synecdoche, New York)
Ellen Aim (Streets of Fire)
Ellen Aim (Streets of Fire)
Ellen Andrews Gordon (Forget Paris)
Ellen Beiderman (Deep Impact)
Ellen Booker (The Horse Whisperer)
Ellen Brody (JAWS)
Ellen Driver (Kill Bill)
Ellen Gallagher (Fatal Attraction)
Ellen Grape (What’s Eating Gilbert Grape)
Ellen Griswold (Vacation)
Ellen Kishmore (Elizabethtown)
Ellen Kline (John Q)
Ellen March (The Postman)
Ellen Morris (My Dog Skip)
Ellen O’Hara (Gone With the Wind)
Ellen Rash (Drowning Mona)
Ellen Renard (The Fan)
Ellen Ripley (Aliens)
Ellen Seitz (Bounce)
I must admit that I dig the “Ripley” reference. She rocked.
As for literature, I’ve only run across two memorable “Ellens” in all my reading.
First there was long-suffering, sainted Ellen O’Hara in Gone with the Wind.
Here’s Barbara O’Neil.
If memory serves, the Margaret Mitchell described Ellen O’Hara as a “pillar of strength, a fount of wisdom, the one person who knew the answers to everything.”
Ellen O’Hara was portrayed as self-sacrificing, always patient, kind, hard-working and bound to duty instead of love.
To my thirteen year old mind, she sounded dreary as all get out.
I much preferred- and identified with- Scarlett.
But my next encounter with a heroine of great lit was a little different.
I did love- and pity- Edith Wharton’s wonderful and fabulously tragic heroine of The AgeofInnocence– Countess Ellen Olenska.
Here’s Martin Scorsese’s version of this scandalous Ellen.
Small Collecting World Sidebar: I happen to own a first edition The Age of Innocence. When Michele Pfeiffer got married, her husband, David E. Kelley, presented her with a first edition as a wedding present. I like the way that man thinks.
I’ll end this post with an official chart.
Popularity Over Time: How Many Girls Have Been Named Ellen
A few facts about the girl’s name Ellen:
Records indicate that 270,682 girls in the United States have been named Ellen since 1880.
The greatest number of people were given this name in 1951, when 5,929 people in the U.S. were given the name Ellen. Those people are now 67 years old.
That would be me, I’m afraid.
But no matter how banal I find it, it looks like I’m stuck with “Ellen.” Too late in the day to change it now.
I realize that this is an oxymoron like “jumbo shrimp” (sorry, Mitch) but I’m thinking of filing a class action suit on behalf of all divorced people everywhere.
Against all the big phone companies.
Yeah, you heard me T-Mobile, AT&T, Sprint,Verizon.
Be afraid. Be very afraid.
And what led me to this very litigious frame of mind?
It all started when my T-Mobile bill dropped.
Usually my financial obligations rise. They don’t suddenly take a turn for the better. So this happy financial news left me dazed and confused.
I called T-Mobile and lo and behold! My phone had been paid off and I was now the proud owner of a gently-used iPhone 6S.
And the customer service rep went on to say, that as a loyal, terrific customer of T-Mobile for the last FIFTEEN years, I would now receive my limited-data plan (that always ran out half way through the month) for the very reasonable rate of just $74.
How great was that?!?!
Excitedly I told TBF the good news. My phone bill had just been cut in half.
He looked at me skeptically for a moment and then did some fancy thumbwork on his phone.
“That’s nuts,” he proclaimed in his usual beat-around-the-bush manner. “You can have a new iPhone X and a better plan for about $50 a month total. If you were on a family plan.”
What?!?!
A new iPhone X with cool face recognition and a better camera for the blog for $20 less?
How dare T-Mobile? I was pissed.
It would seem that DWD’s are just S.O.L. when it comes to calling plans.
That’s SO unfair.
Why should I be further penalized just because:
I had the misfortune to be married to a cheating hound dog?
My kids already have their own plans.
In all honesty, I wouldn’t want to be added on to Natasha’s plan. She micro-manages everything.
I’d probably get reprimanded and have my calling privileges suspended if she caught me on the phone too late.
And Nick is on his father’s plan. As I have found out the hard way whenever my son calls me and my television screen helpfully announces, “You have a telephone call from Bill Ross.”
No, thank you.
And as for my ever-helpful helpmate TBF- he’s got Android and his family plan is so complicated that Heisenberg and Einstein combined could never figure it out.
That left me with exactly one alternative.
Calling Kenny.
“Hi, Kenny. My old phone is paid off. Do you have room on your family plan for another person? You can get up to ten lines. I think I get a new phone and still be paying less. Can you check?”
“Sure, I’ll call AT&T and get back to you.”
It was a go. Project Roffe/Ross Family Plan was launched.
We made a plan to meet up at the AT&T Flagship store on Michigan Avenue.
I was met at the door by a different Kenneth. You know how when you walk into one of these joints you are taking your chances? You spin the Tech Wheel of Fortune and you can either get a dud or a person with knowledge, incentive and a gift for customer service.
I got an ace. Kenneth was pure gold.
For the next few hours he researched, texted, changed passwords, ran back and forth to check rates. He basically killed himself to ensure that I had a great phone and that Kenny wouldn’t have to take a second job.
Here’s the fruit of his labor.
Voilà!
And then Kenneth really went to work making sure that I understood how to get the most out of my new toy.
HOURS later, Kenneth was exhausted. But I was exhilarated.
I was a calling plan orphan no more.
And now, like I said, I’m on the hunt for a good attorney.
A couple of weeks ago I had a great idea for the blog. I started writing a post called “I See A Dark Stranger” when all of a sudden, I realized that some of this sounded very familiar.
That’s because I had already written it before.
It’s called Fortune’s Cookie and you can read it now if you missed it the first time.
I had written that post in November of 2013. And because I’ve done over 500 posts since then, I had simply forgotten all about it.
Even my good memory couldn’t keep them all straight.
And that leads me to today’s subject.
Class, we are going to now study The Creative Process.
I’ve been writing professionally for over thirty years and guess what? It’s boring trying to describe what it’s like.
Mostly it looks like bad t#@/ing. I mean typing.
I can’t even describe what it’s like when a great idea strikes.
I’m eother playing Solitaire or in the bath tub when the Muse visits. (See what I mean about the bad typing?)
So rather than have me try to explain it, take a look at how Hollywood has depicted the stormy and fascinating life of a writer.
Let’s start with the great F. Scott Fitzgerald, shall we?
Greg Peck is SO miscast. And hey, I don’t think I ever saw Scott writing, did you? What did I tell you?
How about Truman Capote? He was the subject of my junior theme in high school and he was also the subject of two bio pics.
Here’s Infamous where you get two authors for the price of one. Toby Jones plays Tru and Sandra Bullock plays his buddy and childhood neighbor, Nelle Lee. (That’s Harper Lee to the rest of us.)
Now here’s a novelty. I actually found a scene in a movie where a writer (briefly) writes. Miracle.
And as long as we’re doing Famous Brit Authors, let’s peek at this man’s life.
Bah humbug! This is a G-rated version of Charles Dickens’s much more fascinating and complicated life. This movie is a Christmas turkey.
But here’s a pretty great look inside the mind- and business dealings- of another very talented English author.
Beatrix Potter’s life was another complicated one but I thought the movie captured her determination to rise above her place in Victorian society and her hidebound mother’s snobbish conventions and pretensions.
If we take the Chunnel to movie France, we really hit the Mother Lode of movies about artistes. It’s called Impromptu.
Voilà!
This is the TMZ version of the lives of George Sand, Chopin, Liszt, Alfred de Musset, Delacroix… It’s a veritable of Who’s Who- and who sleeps with who. And it’s kind of fun watching Hugh Grant struggle with a Polish accent. (Not to mention that he is much prettier than Judy Davis.)
In Movieland, writers aren’t always worshipped. Sometimes they’re tortured souls struggling with writer’s block.
Here’s a pretty accurate look in Adaptation.
Now here’s a BAAAAD case.
Note to Readers: You can interrupt me anytime. I’d much rather chat than write any day.
And sometimes authors are just plain tortured by the critics. Take a look.
(As we all know, the deranged fan Annie goes to even further extremes to help her favorite author create. I just can’t bear to watch them and thus I will spare you all, too.)
Now here’s an author who’s just plain f*%&ed up.
Charlize Theron was amazing in Young Adult. Not exactly a feel good movie but what a performance.
Time for me to stop goofing around. I have to get back to work. I’ll leave you, Dear Readers, with some insight on how I’ve written all these 500 hundred posts.
This photo needs no identification. And today, Dear Readers, I’m going to lead off with something a little different from my usual blog posts.
I’m starting with the clip.
ICYMI, please watch the whole thing.
This just blew me away. Here’s Paul McCartney- one of the world’s most famous and justly-celebrated people- stopping by old childhood haunts and having a blast.
Just like your everyday bloke.
Except he’s not.
He’s Sir Paul McCartney and he’s turned from pop star into pop idol into pop icon into role model.
It’s been a long journey but a positive one. Fame and fortune have not done an “Elvis” on him, thank the Lord.
As he alludes to in the clip, his life hasn’t all been a bed of roses. He lost his mum early. Not to mention his two BFF and collaborators- John and and his wife, Linda.
But it’s clear that Paul has weathered his storms with courage and grace.
Here’s how the Oxford English Dictionary (partially) defines “grace.”
grace
NOUN
1 Smoothness and elegance of movement.
‘she moved through the water with effortless grace’
2 Courteous good will.
‘he had the good grace to apologize to her afterwards’
graces An attractively polite manner of behaving.
‘she has all the social graces’
3 (in Christian belief) the free and unmerited favour of God, as manifested in the salvation of sinners and the bestowal of blessings.
3 nounA divinely given talent or blessing.
‘the scheme has proved to be a great grace for the Church
3.2The condition or fact of being favoured by someone
Hi, Dear Readers. Hope you had a marvelous Fourth. Flag-waving, fireworks and probably a BBQ. It wouldn’t be a Chicago Fourth without those things.
And you can’t be a Chicagoan and not have a favorite steak house. It’s positively unpatriotic. My kind of town has an historic and legendary connection with beef and meat packing.
As far as I’m concerned, we lead the country- if not the world- in great places for a good steak.
And even though I have touched on this subject once before in Where’s The Beef?, I feel this topic deserves another visit.
So click on Open Table and let’s make reservations at these fabulous steak joints.
In the beginning – for me at least- was Al Farber’s.
Located in the Belden-Stratford Hotel at 2300 Lincoln Park West from 1957 until 1977, Al Farber’s was my first introduction to a fab filet with something known as “char crust.”
OMG! I was hooked. This special dry spice rub gave the steak an incredible coat of seasoning and texture. Yum.
I also fondly remember their Thousand Island Dressing and the tomato and onion salad. (The first time I had ever seen one of those.)
Although Al Farber’s is gone, their char crust lingers on. You can still buy it and DIY.
1975 was a banner year for me and steak houses.
I was introduced to two legendary places- Eli’s The Place for Steak and Gene and Georgetti’s.
I’ve already written about G& G. Let’s head over to Chicago Avenue and go to Eli’s.
In case you didn’t recognize him, that’s Eli Schulman front and left center on the wall. Eponymous owner of the joint- and godfather of all things cheesecake to this day.
Remember how they were always in such a hurry to turn the tables? Our waiter always said, “May I get that out of your way for you?” as he was tugging on my half-finished relish plate.
Alas, Al Farber’s and Eli’s may be gone but not forgotten.
Located on the north branch of the Chicago River on Erie Street, this Gene and Georgetti family offshoot serves up great steaks and good Italian “red sauce” dishes.
And in summertime, they have a wonderful patio for outdoor Chicago dining.
Favoloso.
Speaking of outdoor dining, Chicago Cut has to have THE best location for summertime steak consumption in the whole city.
They are on La Salle Street and the restaurant runs along side the Chicago River.
On a gorgeous summer day, nothing can beat it.
Their steaks are good but in this case, it’s location, location, location. Want to wow a client or impress your girl?
This is the place.
Moving out of the city for a moment, there is another Gene and Georgetti family branch outpost is in the suburbs.
If you’re ever out North Shore way and hanker for a steak, try EJ’s Place in Skokie.
Your host E.J. is a G&G grandson and he grew up working in the family business.
He sure knows his onions.
Sidebar about Sides: Speaking of onions, I have to admit that I’m all about the side dishes at these places. The bread baskets, the salad dressings, the corn, the creamed spinach, the lyonnaise potatoes…
I love lyonnaise potatoes.
And here’s another guy who’s as crazy about them as I am. I think I’ll let him describe this delicacy to you.
And have you been to Bavette’s yet? Their elote corn side is yummy.
Yes, I know the lighting in this photograph isn’t good. But if you’re going to dine at Bavette’s, get over it. It’s a coal mine in there. Bring a flashlight and you will see a terrific menu.
And bring plenty of money.
Their filet mignon and short rib stroganoff are worth it.
Paparazzo Sidebar: A few years ago, I had an ugly moment with a celebrity at Bavette’s. I wanted to take a picture of their bar to send to TBF. It’s handsome.
I pulled out my phone and snapped away. Unfortunately I didn’t notice Chris Kennedy and a woman dining at a table in front of the bar. As the flash of my phone camera went off, he looked up.
He thought I was “stealing” a photo of him and was he pissed! He glared at me and I shrugged apologetically. I didn’t want his crummy old picture anyway.
Well, I think I’ve got the subjected of Chicago steak joints char crust covered by now.
Hope I picked a favorite of yours, Dear Readers. ( I hear Steak 48 is the one to beat these days.
Hi, everybody! I had a swell time with the houseguests but it’s great to be back blogging again.
…And just like that, it’s the middle of summer. It will be gone before we know it (sigh) so time for this post.
Presenting the history of my life through…
The Bathing Suit.
Let’s begin at the beginning, shall we?
Here’s yours truly about age two, I’m guessing, in Chicago. We hadn’t made our move to the ‘burbs yet. And believe it or not, I know what I’m looking at here. It was a dog at the beach. I was beyond fascinated with dogs.
Fashion Critique? A big thumbs up. I dig the little sun visor, the polka dots and the bathing suit straps cross-crossed tied in front. I would certainly wear this ensemble in Palm Beach any time.
Now here I am around five on the beach during my St. Tropez phase.
Again with the polka dots! Do I sense a fashion theme here?
Fast forward to me age twelve. I went to sleep-away summer camp and although I know that I packed a few suits, I wore the same blue tank suit every single day.
Brrr. I can still feel its cold clamminess as I struggled and wriggled like an eel to put it on each morning. For no matter how long it hung in the sun to dry on the line outside our cabin, the suit was always icy cold and spine-tinglingly damp from hanging out every night.
Well good bye to summer camp and hello high school. Now I was set to hit Glencoe Beach and Green Acres Country Club in a modest- but rockin’- two piece.
I’m fourteen here and this suit was pink and white. Note the plunging neckline! Very daring for a prude like me.
Just one look at this photo and I can still smell the Bain Du Soleil.
But now it’s 1977 and I need something different in the way of a bathing attire.
Real different.
As in a maternity bathing suit. I was expecting what turned out to be Natasha and we were headed to a beach somewhere around my seventh month. I went to Saks in Old Orchard and I must have tried on twenty suits to get the right look and finally…
Voilà!
As if! Oh, heck no!
I looked so bad in every maternity bathing suit that I finally settled on something the same general size, shape and color of this.
Yes, a circus tent. With me as The Fat Lady. It didn’t really matter what the suit looked like, however. When the vacay time came around, I was too chicken to wear it out on a public beach any way.
By the summer of 1980 however, I had gotten my figure back after Nick was born in April. And I had a cholecystectomy in July. I now looked good enough for a two piece again but the gall bladder op scar was still very much in evidence.
Hail the era of Gottex.
Here’s my version. I was cuh-razy about about these animal prints.
(Btw, That’s the great John Fischl- the kids’ swim coach. He made Natasha a good little diver and Nick always tried to follow in her footsteps.)
Five Alarm Sidebar: In 1986, painters torching off the old paint set our house on fire. A BIG fire. When I got the call telling me that the house was burning, I happened to be in a bathing suit. Since the smoke damage made all our clothes unwearable, I had to evacuate the premises the next day wearing only the bathing suit I was wearing when I got the S.O.S. and a cover up loaned to me by my sister-in-law.
A few days later, as we headed down to the Ritz-Carlton, I was probably wearing the same get-up.
These days my go-to suits are a white bikini.
Sorry, no modeling. This is an “Eyes Only” bathing suit opportunity.
And a navy blue one piece.
As for the next bathing suit chapter, I have seen the future and it’s called Miami Beach Gothic Granny.
