Tupac Is the New Elvis

Yet another sign that the boomer generation's reign as trend leader and opinion maker has expired: Tupac Shakur sightings.

Tupac, of course, was the 25-year-old photogenic, talented rapper/poet who was gunned down in his prime in Las Vegas on September 7, 1996. He lingered for six days before indisputably dying of cardiac arrest and respiratory failure.

Used to be Elvis sightings. But rare, now, is the under-50 music aficionado who mourns the lost potential of the "King of Rock 'n Roll," who died at age 42 in (believe it or not) 1977. Thirty-two long years ago!

Hard to imagine that many boomers have even heard of Tupac...

The Craigslist Killer and Men with Secret Lives

Megan McAllister, fiance of the alleged Craigslist killer, Philip Markoff, is a lucky woman today. The stars of good fortune are shining on her.

She doesn't feel gratitude yet, though. Probably still rues it as the worst day of her life when her beloved ("a beautiful man inside and out... He would not hurt a fly!") was wrongly accused and arrested in a terrible case of mistaken identity.

Of course, Megan could be proven correct. But the circumstantial evidence is extremely strong: emails traced to his IP address, security cameras and cell phone pings placing him at several of the crimes, corroborating evidence at his apartment.

At minimum, Philip has been leading a dangerous double life... one living up to everyone's expectations of a perfect guy ("He is intelligent, loyal, and the best fiance a woman could ask for.); the other, a cold, hostile misogynist who thrives on the angry acts of a powerless little boy.

I know. I've known two such men: my ex-husband and a young pastor.

Similar to Philip, both led double lives:

• one life as the perfect guy, loved by his wife, adored by his children, admired by the world as a golden boy-man, beaming with promise and good looks, intelligence and charm.


• a second, secret life crammed with repeated rebellions tailored to shock and hurt the people who love them.

These men break the hearts of the people who love them... people who never truly grasp the reasons for the golden man's painful, often heinous, betrayal.

Harsh reality reveals that we never really knew these men, Megan. Reality reveals that they craved an audience who believed in their goodness, but these men are incapable of returning mature love. Or of truth.

Move on, Megan. For your sake, forgive Philip, release your pain, and move on. Chalk your romance up to a close-call and a cautionary lesson well-learned.

You don't realize it yet, but this is the best day of your young life. Trust me on this.

(Photo of fiances Philip Markoff and Megan McAllister in happier times.)

Adam Lambert: David Bowie with Fantastic Singing Skills

I'm crazy about Adam Lambert, the front-runner to win this season's American Idol competition. I'm crazy about his music, his persona, his theatricality, and especially about his joyously spontaneous creativity.

Adam Lambert will be a big, big star, most likely in musical theater, but his appeal won't be limited to, or even include many, young, edgy music aficionados. Here's why...

He's a joyously Disney-fied version of glammed-up punk rock. He's David Bowie, but with fantastic singing skills. He's Elton John, but with style and fashion sense. He's Elvis but without the snarl and the fried peanut butter sandwiches.

He's a mannered young man with a choir boy's face from middle-class San Diego suburbs. He's the son, the nephew, the brother, who had talent too out-sized for desk-bound college study and proclivities too exotic for his confused, loving family.

He's the wanderer who arrives home for Thanksgiving with a black shock of hair, two new tattoos, Revlon eyeshadow, and armed with pumpkin pie and sweet hugs for all.

What I find refreshing about Adam Lambert is his openness and comfort with his identity. He's part of the new generation of young gay man who lack an angry chip on their shoulder and a desperate need to taunt with their sexuality.

Indeed, his 21st-century androgynous charisma is blend of the new and the moderately old, but his creative vibrancy as a musical performer is an American tradition that dates back to vaudeville.

Adam Lambert as the lead in "Jesus Christ, Superstar," anyone?

Dust-Catcher and Recumbent: A Tale of Two Bikes

This my new gym-caliber recumbent bike, a Schwinn 230.

I bought it to replace my 30-year-old dust-catcher of a stationary bike which I purchased from Sears to drop weight after my first child... now 32 years old... was born.

I rode Dust-Catcher about 600 miles a year since 2003, so I did see use it... but turns out it was half-broken. And half-effective.

A couple months ago, to avoid eventual knee surgery, I embarked on a physical therapy regimen, and it's not been easy. But WOW...I feel better. Exercise has already made a huge difference in my health, and I'm just getting started.

My new recumbent bike is professional caliber... more so than I imagined, since I bought it via Amazon. I've been using it for two weeks, and have discovered that it's light years more effective... and tougher... than Dust-Catcher.

Gleaming, sturdy, computerized... Recumbent challenges me. Stares at me. Sometimes overwhelms me.Occasionally frustrates me. Frequently wears me out.

But Recumbent will never defeat me. Instead, I will work my way up to 30 minutes daily.

I refuse to be defeated.

Or to succumb to knee, or perhaps hip, surgery until doctors believe there is no better way. And that may be never, given that I'm motivated.

Competitive Tomato Growing

At our couples book club dinner last week, half-a-dozen men were huddled, thoroughly absorbed in conversation about... not golf, not MLB spring training, not their latest home improvement projects, and surprisingly, not the economy or the spiraling unemployment rate.

In hushed tones, these middle-aged, comfortably dressed, contentedly married men were earnestly discussing the upcoming tomato plant sale at the local arboretum, which features 200 varieties of heirloom, organic and newly developed species of their favorite backyard spring crop.

They were plotting strategies both for snagging the most desirable plants, and for nurturing their prized plants to produce mouth-watering, premium fruits. They were comparing notes on on the best qualities of certain varieties, and of the unsurpassable culinary experience of home-grown tomatoes.

Today, this quietly gray Saturday morning, Ron rose and nervously prepared for his anticipated foray to the arboretum, which opened 10 minutes ago at 10 am.

Armed with a six-column spreadsheet analyzing various attributes of his top 15 plant types (ranked in order of his preference), my engineer husband murmured that he wasn't sure when he would be home, considering all that he has on his plate: soil condition and plant health and fertilizer.

After all, our next book club get-together is May 8. He has much to accomplish before then.

2009 New Years Wish to Stop the Planet

I've posted here very little in 2008, but not because I've lost interest. Far from it.

In fact, this blog is my favorite writing venue. But the year got away from me, I guess, buried under an avalanche of political news and profound family milestones and events.

All is well, my friends, but so much is changing. Not that change is a negative, mind you... it just is, and it's time and energy consuming.

Andrea will be leaving home and going to college in 2009, most likely to UC Berkeley, University of Chicago or Tufts University, in Boston. Possibly Swarthmore College outside Philadelphia. (I'm privately rooting for the California school. Closer to home.)

My parents celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary a month ago. All three of our parents are now in their 80s, and dealing with bewildering, slowly deterioriating health, both physical and mental.

Our two adorable grandchildren are healthy, happy toddlers. Our adult children and their spouses are caught in the inevitable whirl of career, busyness and accumulation of too much stuff.

Ron continues to take five daily medications for diabetes, and I finally succumbed this month to obtaining an official diagnosis for the family arthritis in my hips and knees.

In our family, everyone knows they are loved. There are no family feuds, and relationships are in reasonably good repair. No one lost job or home. No one is facing life-threatening disease. Most know God, some intimately. All look forward to the future. We are blessed beyond words.

Life is good, but it's ever-changing. Sometimes, I wish time could stop for a while, so I could savor, at my own pace, a non-changing snapshot of the pleasures, the pains, the beautiful collage of life.

But that's not the nature of our existence. Instead, it keeps moving forward like a mighty river. Or like a proverbial avalanche that temporarily overtakes me.

This year, my resolutions have less to do with physical tasks or relationships, and more to do with my spiritual and personal growth. One of my resolutions for 2009 is more writing here.

My wish for you in 2009 is the same: deliberate focus on personal and spiritual growth, and the time and space to do it well. And finding something you love to do as much as I love writing.

Happy New Year, and God bless you!

(Art courtesy of NASA)

Slipping Off to the Park

This morning about 8 am, while my husband and daughter slept in, I slipped off to the local park a few blocks from our home for a sunshine-filled walk....something I rarely do.

And it was lovely, of course. Our park is smallish, with gentle green slopes surrounding a lake filled with ducks, geese and assorted other water bird, and stocked with trout and catfish. Tall, aging eucalyptus trees sway in the breeze, scenting the park and shading sojourners. (See photo.)

What struck me most this morning, though, was the quiet love that filled the park:

• A 30-something couple, her with a walker, he walking alongside, gently helping her. They laughed together, sat on a bench for a while, then slowly walked a bit farther.
  
  
• A young father with his daughter, feeding the ducks, taking photos
  
  
• A father fishing with his boys
  
  
• An elderly, eightyish couple walking hand-in-hand
  
  
• Mothers chatting quietly while their children clamber on the playground

And walkers of all ages, sizes, and ethnicities, with and without dogs...mothers and daughters, women friends, couples, singles.

Everyone savoring the moment and enjoying the morning.

The pastoral park scene reminded me of the beauty of life.