Mad Men and Me

by Savannah

It's been a busy time for me. I'm finally feeling like a human being again and I can get out and about without too much discomfort. Heat and humidity have always been my worst enemies and now that I know I'm diabetic I have to be very careful when I go out. I try to keep my time out of air conditioning to a minimum. That may mean I don't get to go to the US Open this year during the day. Going during the day allows you to miss the drunk yuppies and enjoy the tennis. Night matches are horrible.

But this post is about Mad Men. I used to fall asleep every time I tried to watch it but I was doing some personal research for the Emmy's and started watching. The show is now must see TV for me.

You don't hear Black people talking a lot about the show but it should be required watching for those interested in how we got to where we are today and what made it possible.

The last two episodes are simply awesome. Last week's episode is called "The Rejected". Not to go into too much detail one of the women who works for the ad agency ends up totally out of her comfort zone after a lesbian who works for Life Magazine -along with Look it was a staple in my house -we never had Ebony - invites her to a party in Greenwich Village. The Village back then was not a high rent rich bitch playground. There were a lot of artists, mostly poor, and parties were held in lofts or run down buildings that now sell for millions. At any rate after a few tokes the woman who invited her came on to her and she told her she had a boyfriend and that he was definitely renting her vajayjay. There were no histrionics, no crashing music, nothing but two women talking. Then she met a guy she was attracted to but someone had called the cops and after they agreed to meet later she and the woman who invited her make a mad dash out of the factory building via a rear entrance. You see the two of them running gleefully and stopping at the corner to catch their breath. It was a glorious scene and brought back so many memories of that time. Things like that happened on a regular basis and after it was all over you felt so alive because you'd had an adventure.
And that is the point. You could have an adventure and if you escaped you could laugh and go on about your business. I think that's something missing today and why people my age feel a bit sorry for the young people now. We had joy and I don't see a lot of that now.

This weeks episode was called the "The Chrysanthemum and the Sword" and dealt with post WWII racism towards the Japanese. It also dealt with the role women were expected in 1965 and the roles women were moving towards at the same time.

I should mention that the show does a very good job of showing how the ongoing Civil Rights movement was creeping into the consciousness of the white upper classes. Again there haven't been any speeches that I've seen but last week they situated you in time by having a character ask another what they thought of the Malcolm X assassination and this week they referenced Selma. You see black people in what their traditional roles were then - quiet people moving through the shadows never acknowledged by the whites whose children they kept or buildings they cleaned. The child care function plays a major role in this weeks episode.

The post WWII racism story is riveting on its own but the story revolving around Betty and her daughter Sally is what kept me rapt. Betty has divorced and remarried an older man. Her daughter Sally is having a lot of trouble coping with it. Sally has become very interested in "doing it" and is asking everyone but her mother about what "doing it" involves. A friend at school told her the man pees inside the woman but she wants to know more specifics. She was on a sleepover at a friends house and while the other girl fell asleep Sally was watching "The Man From U.N.C.L.E." and felt attracted to the character played by David MacCallum. We see her pulling up her nightgown and know what is going to happen. The host mother walks in and catches her in the act. She immediately takes her back home and tells Sally's mother what happened. After the other mother leaves Betty upbraids Sally for her behavior and then takes off for her bedroom in a huff saying they'll discuss it in the morning. In the next scene we hear Betty telling her husband that the other mother will tell everyone what happened and that she will be shamed.

It is very hard for young women today to understand the sense of shame that women of that time were raised with. It was always in the back of your mind that your actions had the potential to bring shame on your family. Remember that if a girl got pregnant she was shipped "Down South". The mother would show up a few months later with a surprise addition to her family. A woman engaging in self pleasure was on her way to promiscuity which is what Betty says about her daughter. Betty decides to send her daughter to a child psychologist, a woman with a warm open demeanor who quickly sees that Betty needs help too and sets it up so that Sally will have sessions four times a week and that Betty will come in once a week to review her daughters progress. There is the tense phone conversation with her ex husband who says that since the decision has been made what is there to say. The doctor wanted to talk to him as well but he's already been seen saying he doesn't get why people want to talk about everything.

To say I was stunned to see Carla, the maid sitting with Sally for her first visit is putting it mildly. You would think after all the shit Betty and Don put each other through about who is to blame for their daughters issues one or both of them would've been with their daughter for her first visit. Instead the send the maid. The black maid. Sally looks at Carla as if to ask if it's okay to go into the office by herself and Carla nods yes. The last scene is Carla standing staring at the closed door.

To me Sally, who is ten in the series is the woman of the future who rebels against the strictures on women investigating and being comfortable with their own sexuality while her mother is the past. There is a lot of talk about whether Sally or Betty were sexually abused. Supposedly the creator of the show has stated publicly that is not the case for either character.

The show also speaks to the cult of the uninvolved father prevalent at that time. The lead character, Don Draper/Dick Whitman shares custody of his children but only sees the older two and never puts aside work to spend time with his offspring. His son doesn't seem bothered by his father's aloofness but the daughter clearly needs attention and so far is not getting it from either parent.

I had thought this show was all hype and that it had nothing to offer a woman of color. I was wrong. It takes some work but find an hour where you will be uninterrupted and watch at least the last two episodes. Amazing television. Amazing acting. Amazing social commentary.

A Dash of Cold Water to the Face

by AnnaAmie

I will never laugh at the expression "I've fallen and I can't get up" again. On December 9, 2009 I fell in my home and couldn't get up for anything in the world. It was not a nice feeling. My daughter found me on the floor and due to her quick thinking I was taken to one of the best private hospitals in NYC where my doctor of over twenty years has residency. The ER evaluation was going to be that I was depressed but my doctor insisted that it had to be more and sure enough, there was. Turns out my blood sugar was 800. That's right, 800. That is coma territory when it comes to blood sugar levels. Needless to say I was inundated with insulin injections and blood thinners. I spent a couple of days in the ER in what I now know was a semi conscious state. In my mind I was fine.

It was a fight but - beds are on short supply - but my first room was in a private pavilion for cardiac patients. No one could figure out where the high blood sugar came from since I hadn't exhibited any symptoms before collapsing.

The room was monitored with closed circuit television and that was a good thing. I was encouraged to try and use the facilities on my own - this was two days later mind you, and my legs gave out again. The cardiologist ordered an echo cardiagram and found that I had pulmonary emboli which of course is not good. I was also forbidden to get out of bed by myself again.

I couldn't stay on the private floor so I was transferred in the middle of the night to the floor where I'd spend the rest of my hospital stay. I was in a semi private room - I later found out the single occupant rooms were used by those who may have been infectious - and saw that my room mate was lying face down in her bed. I soon found out that I was lucky that first night that she had had her "medication" and was down for the count.

At this time I was still not quite with it and still had to rely on nurses to escort me to and from the bathroom that was literally five feet away.
I was told that I had Type 2 diabetes( I've since learned the difference between the two types) and that it was probably a medication I'd been prescribed to treat another medical condition that made me sick.

The drama with my room mate started as soon as she woke up. We didn't argue or fight, that was not her focus. What she wanted was for all attention to be focused on her and her self described pain. It soon became obvious that as long as she had her morphine pills she was fine. She would beg for them all day and then hoard them in the pages of the NY Times that she insisted she had to have brought to her by the newspaper lady everyday. Her daughter blew her out of the water though when she asked her mother why she was getting the paper at the hospital when it was delivered to her home every day. That started the maid coming daily to bring the paper and food she would eat from home. Did I mention that this woman was at least eighty years old? In the end the tests the hospital did found nothing wrong with her. During the time we shared a room she insulted and berated the nurses until they gave her what she wanted. A nurse who dared insist that she take medication for her illness had the pills thrown in her face. The nurse was made to apologize to this patient. The days the maid couldn't come were dreaded by the staff.

This woman was quite wealthy and being an active addict for many years was able to support her habit without having to conk people over the head to get her fix. At some point she told someone that her husband had been a doctor so that explained things.

My next room mate was a much nicer person and we got along fine.

But enough about the roommates. I was steadily getting better and celebrated the day I could finally read the whiteboard to know the names of the nurse and practical nurse for both the day and night shifts. The opthalmologist told me that my eyes have still not stabilized and that it takes time for the effects of blood sugar that had been that high to wear off on the eyes.

I also began to pay attention to what they were giving me to eat. I know the nursing staff is overworked but the dietary staff could be amazing in their lack of attention to details. I found out during my stay that foods made with white flour were not good for diabetics but I would end up with white bread at least once a day. I was also placed on warfarin and the list of foods high in Vitamin K that I should limit or avoid further restricted my diet. I'm scheduled to see a nutrionist this week and I'm hoping for an expanded menu plan that allows for a chance to eat some "normal" food.

This is going to sound weird but the soups in the hospital were fantastic. To this day I wish I could get the recipe for their lentil soup and surprisingly their barley. I also wish I could get my hands on their tuna salad recipe.

Changing to a diet where I have to pay very close attention to what I eat is not as bad as it would seem. Don't get me wrong there are days I want a nice juicy cheeseburger with all the fixings or a sausage and egg sandwich on a roll with mayo but I treat it like I would a craving for a cigarette (I haven't smoked in over twenty years) and go on to something else. Remembering falling and not being able to get up seems to do the trick.

The First Year

by AnnaAmie

It's been a year. It seems like nothing when you consider that the longest relationship of my life, thirty seven years to be exact, was with an entity not a person.

In 1971, more out of boredom than anything else I applied for a job with AT&T. That was the phone company back then, the only one. I figured if they hired me I'd hang around for a few months and then get a real job. I was fresh out of college, smelling myself, and thought that joining this company was just going to be a brief stop on my way to reforming education, the world, you name it.

I retired in September 2008 from something called "Verizon Business". It was not a phone company, it was something that grew out of the breakup of the Bell System back in the day. It was time to go.

Like many new retirees I felt a little adrift at first. I mean I had had a purpose, I fit somewhere in the world of work. There is a lot of talk about the American dream, a house in the burbs, 2.5 children and a couple of cars. The African American Dream was a variation on that theme. Jobs like policeman, fireman, sanitation worker were still closed to the majority of us. The way in was through the automobile industry and large utilities. The Federal government, along with local and state government were also places many flocked to to get a toe in the door. An entire generation of African Americans had "made it". We knew what the previous generation had had to do to survive. Getting a paycheck every week that wasn't going to bounce, being able to get a mortgage and send our children to better schools at every level were things we could aspire to not just dream about.

I was the first one in my family immediate family to go to college. My father didn't live to see his first born graduate but I know now that he was proud to see me overcome that hurdle. It meant that a different world was open to me, one that his generation had only been able to glimpse from the outside.

But now I was of the "idle" class. I didn't have to be anywhere anymore. I could make my own schedule. People kept encouraging me to take cruises ignoring the fact that I am terrified of open water. Others kept asking when I was going back to work ignoring the statement's that I'd made to anyone who would listen that when I retired I hoped not to have to go back to work.

So in the end I hid out from well intentioned friends and turned my focus inward, on me, on the woman who had taken the simple statement of my mother - "No matter what job you have be the best at it" and tried to be the best I was capable of. Now I had a new job and it was going to take the same attitude to reclaim myself. I want to try to be the best me I can be. It's a work in progress.

So where am I now? I've started letting my old life go. Not everything, just the things that I now see were holding me back from evolving, from creating my new existence. A lot of it had to do with work. A lot of it was personal. A lot of it it turns out was physical.

I spent a lot of this last year sleeping. It sounds stupid but it was a good thing. It felt good getting up at five in the afternoon after staying up until whatever hour I felt like. I got to spend more time with my daughter, learning her ways and appreciating the woman she has grown up to be. I missed her first words and her first steps but I still tried to establish rituals with her. I still take a picture of her on the first day of school. I know it's corny but it's our little thing. She also gets the meal of her choice for dinner but now more than likely she's meeting friends so that part may have fallen by the wayside.

But now I've stopped sleeping. I had no idea that a physical problem I had was draining me so much physically. That has been taken care of and not only my physical energy but my mental outlook has improved. I could get angry about the situation but it's not over yet. I feel more alive, more ready to face the world than I have in a long time and that is a good thing.

I don't know what this blog will be. I've been thinking about doing this for about six months now.
I have a tennis blog that I started writing a couple of years ago at the urging of a man I've never met in person. I think doing that blog saved me in more ways than one. I'm not going to stop doing that. I think that every now and then, when a particular subject catches my attention I'll talk about it here. It could be politics, religion, other sports, movies, dreams, or Astrology. It could simply be personal observation. I guess this is going to be my second year project.

As I write this I'm listening/watching a tennis match taking place in Tokyo. Some things will never change.