Socal Mom by Donna Schwartz Mills

Another Hurricane, Another Day in New York City

The news of Hurricane Irene reminds me of the one time I experienced a named tropical storm -- coincidentally, on a rare visit to New York City.

It was 1985. I was in Manhattan to attend a conference -- and after flying all night on a red-eye (cheaper!), was greeted with the news that Hurricane Gloria was on a path directly for the City.

At that time in my life, I'd ridden through several earthquakes, including the largish 1971 Sylmar temblor. I used to think it was fun to tell quake tales and watch the fear in the eyes of East Coast tranplants. Back then (before the '94 Northridge disaster), I looked at earthquakes as akin to a thrill ride at Disneyland: scary at first, but ultimately an exhilarating ride.

Hey, I was young -- and young people don't tend to have many feelings of mortality.

Anyway, earthquakes didn't phase me. But hurricanes were another matter. I guess you fear the natural disasters you don't know. Everywhere I turned in New York City, the radio and TV stations were on, and they were all-hurricane, all the time. I was scared.

I also figured I had better check in with my mom.

"I want you to know that I'm okay," I told her -- which puzzled her, because (a) I never used to call her just to tell her I was okay and (b) the weather reports in California were not full of hysterical hurricane coverage and she didn't know. So I told her that a hurricane was about to hit New York.

I'll never forget her reply:

"Of all the things I worried about happening to you there, THAT was not one of them."

My mom was born and raised in Havana, so she experienced her share of hurricanes and was full of advice (although the only nugget I can remember all these years later was "stay away from the windows.")

The hurricane was set to hit the following morning. That night, I and a colleague ended up with several strangers in the hotel bar, where we fortified ourselves for the storm to come. As I recall, there were some toasts and raucous renditions of the rock classic, "Gloria" ("G-L-O-RIA").

Fortunately, the storm had weakened a lot by the time it got to New York. There was a lot of rain, and strong winds that made the water seem as if it was coming in horizontally (I disobeyed my mom and did watch through the window).

And then, the storm passed... the sun came out... and the weather for the rest of the day was glorious.

Of course, Gloria was not so benign everywhere she touched. Wikipedia says the storm was responsible for eight deaths and $900 million in damages ... and it was not as large a hurricane as Irene. 

I still have not experienced the worst that Mother Nature can do. And I remain afraid of being in a hurricane.

Old Dogs, New Tricks and My First Celebrity Encounter

There's one thing I've observed from watching my parents and their contemporaries as they've aged: The ones who have fared the best have remained active and engaged, and have not been afraid to adapt to changing technologies.

I hope that is something that factors into my outlook on life as I get older. And it's one of the justifications I'm using for time I've spent this week that on the surface, doesn't appear to be productive.

I've shot a lot of video lately, but have little to show for it. I like working with video, but I'm not good at it. I think I get better with each project I attempt -- but it's a slow process, and I'm hampered by the fact that I'm not a Mac user and am relying on whatever Windows editing program I can get for free.

My husband recently digitized all of our old camcorder videos. He also discovered a videocassette my father made from old home movies, and digitized that, too. I've been trying to winnow out a short clip from that file, but have been flummoxed by the limitations of my software.

The .avi file crashes every time I try to open it in MediaImpression, so I switched to Adobe Premiere Elements and managed to put together a workable edit (although I couldn't figure out how to control the precise length of time that titles appear on the screen, nor could I find a way to fade in or out -- even though there are about two dozen other transition effects available in the program).

But the most frustrating part of the Premiere Elements package my husband has installed on this computer is that once the project was finished, I was unable to export it into a file that could be uploaded to YouTube. So while it was nice to get a feel for how Elements works, I had to start all over again in some other package.

I finally got it all to work in the latest version of Windows MovieMaker (which is free -- you just need to have a Windows Live account).  Yes, there was a learning curve -- and the final version of the clip is actually the second one I made, because the program crashed on me right after the first one. (One of these days I will learn to ALWAYS save these kind of projects after completing each step).

I even added a silly autotuned music track from GarageBand on my iPad and a pre-fab title theme.

This footage was shot by my dad, who may have tried harder if he'd known that some 50 years later, I'd be putting it up on the Internet (but how could he?)  And aside from the cool, retro look of Disneyland in 1962, this clip is notable because it documents my first encounter with a celebrity:

Middle Aged Dread

I realize that I too often characterize myself as "old." It's hard not to, when you are the only one of your friends who can remember where she was when JFK was assassinated. (San Jose Elementary School, Room 8 - second grade. I watched my teacher cry.)

The thing is, most of the time, I don't feel any different than I did when I was 30 -- unless I do the math and remember that was 25 years ago... or when one of my friends starts freaking out over turning 40 and I realize that I'm even 15 years older than that!

Or what happened Memorial Day weekend: I go to a concert headlined by a faded rock act from the 1970's.

I tend not to do a lot of this; I blame the years I worked in the music business. It's hard to pay full price for concert tickets when you used to get them all for free (even if that was three decades ago).

My sister has no such qualms, and regularly revisits the pop idols of our youth -- occasionally dragging me with her. The first time was about ten years ago, to see the Moody Blues.

The only other time I had seen them perform was during the 80's, when I was still sponging off the major record companies and the band was playing to an audience of 18,000 at the Inglewood Forum.

This time around, the band was headlining a showroom at a hotel in Lake Tahoe - capacity about 500 people. And as I glanced around at the others in the audience, I wondered why I was in a room filled with so many senior citizens in their 50's and 60's. 

And then I remembered that I was pushing 50, too.

The audience didn't seem to mind that the performers were no longer in their svelte, rock star prime...

...despite the fact that time (and I would guess some hard living) had also taken a toll on their voices, and even on their musicianship.  Lead singer Justin Hayward postured all over the stage in a too-tight leather pants, seemingly unaware that he looked more like a grandfather than a rock god.

The rest of them appeared too tired to move at all. I couldn't help noticing that a much younger, second drummer was on hand to keep time.

Between the geezerdom of the audience and the artistic deterioration of the performers, I left that show feeling somewhat depressed about my own advancing years... and I decided I would avoid any more dates with the music of my past.

There have been exceptions: like the time my sister (again!) dragged me to see the Who in concert, or last year, when friends took us to see James Taylor and Carole King at the Hollywood Bowl. Thankfully, these shows were terrific -- and while I still felt shocked at the balding, gray heads of the audiences (there's no way I look like those old fogies!), the performances were entertaining and sharp.

 And so I figured I had a 50-50 shot when my sister suggested we all see Boz Scaggs when he passed through Sacramento last month.

Are you too young to know Boz Scaggs? He of the distinctive "blue-eyed soul"-y voice? Here's a pretty good video from about 25 years ago:

Scaggs has lived in the San Francisco area since the psychedelic 60's, when he sang lead for his high school buddy Steve Miller's band. I was a big fan of his 1976 breakout album, Silk Degrees, which was released just as I was emerging from a long, dark period in my young life. The first single from that LP, "It's Over," was a bouncy dance tune with really mean lyrics ("Why can't you just get it through your head... it's over, it's over now...")

It made me happy. Listening to it now still makes me happy.

Apparently, after some years of semi-retirement (when he was best known as co-owner of a San Francisco club called Slim's -- which he still owns), Scaggs started hitting the road again (although he doesn't appear to travel often to Los Angeles. Then again, how would I know since I don't go to concerts any longer?)

"I saw him in Reno a couple of years ago and it was a blast," my sister said. 

So what could I say? (No pun intended, as that's another of Scaggs' old hits). We were in.

But I was a little bit apprehensive. For one thing, Memorial Day weekend was unseasonably cold in Sacramento... and the show was being held outdoors...

...at the Radisson. (And nothing says class like a two-star hotel.)

It was also weirdly organized. My sister thought she'd purchased reserved seats through Ticketmaster, and had even paid extra for better ones... only to learn that the entire show was festival seating.  However, those of us who paid the premium were given wristbands and herded into a special line -- and when the doors opened to the outdoor venue, we found ourselves sitting right in the front row.

On top of that, it stopped raining long enough for Mr. Scaggs and his band to put on a helluva show.

By the way -- his voice sounds just as good as ever.

I felt transported to my 20-something self.

I think he had that effect on the rest of the audience, too. The distinctive aroma of marijuana wafted through the place. And by the time of the encore, our front-row seats were no longer an advantage, because so many elderly audience members were blocking our view and shaking their booties.

You have not lived until you've seen a bouncer try to make some old grandma go back to her seat. It's funny stuff.

Too bad he didn't sing "It's Over."

Meet Me at the Prom

“You can get married as many times as you want. You only get one shot at your junior prom.”
    -- Quinn Fabray (Dianna Agron) on “Glee”

One of the challenges of writing on assignment is that those assignments often consist of topics that, if left to my own devices, I'd never choose to write about.

An example of that arrived in my Inbox a couple of weeks ago, when Kim Prince, my indefatigable editor at CBS Los Angeles, emailed me this plea:

"Can you do a prom post?  You have the kid who's closest in age to that!"

Well, uh... that's true. But my Freshman daughter claims she doesn't even know anyone who attended her school's prom this year.

And as I pointed out to Kim, I didn't even go to my own prom, which was held at the local brewery.

More accurately, it was at the San Fernando Valley location of Busch Gardens, which was torn down in the 1980's to allow for expansion of Anheuser-Busch's Van Nuys facility.

I was a geek in high school who spent the evening of my senior prom working a lonely night shift on my part time job as a clerk in a five and dime store (remember those? No? It was like a teeny, tiny, Target.)

My best friend and her date made a point of coming down to the store to visit me and show off their beautiful prom clothes. I believe he ended up ditching her at the dance so he could make out with some other girl who was there. So it was not a good night for either of us.

The bottom line is that the only thing I know about the grand American high school tradition of Prom is what I've seen in movies and television... and the usual focus of a CBS Los Angeles post is in the form of a "Five Best" article. As I related to Kim, how do I do that when all I have to go by is the word, "prom"?

Kim was just as perplexed. She did jump on the recollection of my own prom with the idea of unique locations, wondering if there are any cool L.A. prom traditions.

Damned if I knew... but the gauntlet had been thrown. I took the challenge, and the post is now live... minus the following introduction (which was too long for CBS -- but I tend to overwrite stuff, with the thought that it's easier to cut than add):

Spring prom season is winding to an end, and one thing is certain: Prom has changed since “Back to the Future,” when Marty McFly’s parents fell in love at the “Under the Sea” dance.

And that makes 21st Century proms a lot more expensive. According to a recent survey from Visa, Inc., the average prom expenditure in Western states (for both boys and girls) is $1,073.

Some of that money goes for the formal dress, and it’s de rigueur these days to hire a limo (or pool resources for a party bus). Add in flowers, hair styling and makeup, a nice meal before the dance, and the actual event tickets, and it’s easy to see how quickly costs can get out of hand.

The idea of a limo might seem extravagant, but many parents think of it as a safety measure. Of course, no one condones underage drinking, and before students can purchase tickets at most schools, they are required to sign prom contracts that specify all the rules: from drinking to dress codes to age limits for their dates.

Read the rest of the post at CBS Los Angeles - Best of Family.

The Accidental Radio Host

My college major at CSUN was Radio-Television-Film, with a minor in Journalism. This was in the heady days post-Watergate, when Journalism was kind of a hot course to take.

But looking back, I think it was a subject that already appealed to me. In 4th grade, I published a classroom "newspaper," which the teacher kindly "dittoed" for me (those of us of a certain age will remember ditto pages, with its purple text and pleasant chemical smell). And right after high school, I used to put together comedic newsletters, which I distributed among my small group of friends.

Yes, I've always been weird like that.

In a way, taking actual J-school courses cured me of any desire to be a real journalist. Mike Emery, who taught Journalism 101 (you know - basic inverted pyramid structure and getting the facts, ma'am), was not amused when I turned in anything that reeked of my personality. 

I did better with copy editing and headline writing -- and even managed to eke out an A in a Journalism course on Popular Culture. This was great preparation for my first real job out of college, writing a pop music countdown show for syndicated radio.

This wasn't at all like Journalism, as most of what I did was regurgitate information from People, Rolling Stone and Billboard magazine into 30-second sound bites, which were read by veteran radio personalities Mark Elliott and Charlie Van Dyke.

I did originate some of the material myself, by interviewing some 100 pop artists over a three-year period. But even when these were included in the show as interview segments, my voice was edited out and Mark and Charlie were edited in, as if they were the ones asking the questions.

And I was OK with that. Really. I don't think I have a good voice. I know I have a problem with sibilance (which my husband delights in teasing me about - as in, asking me to say the word "sibilance"). The semester I worked on our campus radio station, I tried delivering the news once... and it was the most horrifying experience of my college career. Nope, I'm really happy just to stay behind the scenes and edit and write.

I think this is one of the reasons I haven't done a lot of promotion of the BlogTalkRadio show I've been doing for the last six months with the MOMocrats. 

I love putting the show together. I enjoy playing director with the other panelists. This week, I tried something new: Cynematic and I pre-taped an interview with celebrity dietitian Ashley Koff, and I spent most of yesterday editing that conversation so we could insert it into today's show. And I really think it came out great.

There's just one problem: There's too much of me in it.

I'm not sharp enough, or glib enough. I may know a lot of facts at the back of my head, but don't seem able to access them quickly when we're doing the live show (shades of the radio stage fright I experienced in college). I blunder, I stumble over my words and I have trouble finishing my thoughts.

Plus, I really don't have a good voice.

But wow - I do love the excuse this show provides me to chat with my politically savvy friends every week. 

**

Guest Ashley Koff was on hand to promote Fair Trade Day (May 14), which raises awareness of Fair Trade products from developing nations - which have been produced by farmers who have received fair compensation for their goods. 

In honor of the occasion, the MOMocrats are giving away a Fair Trade goodie bag, with samples of organic, Fair Trade products. Entry is easy... but you're going to have to listen to this week's show.

The good news is that I don't talk as much as I do on the episodes where we don't have a guest.