Skip to main content

Posts

Just sitting around doing jack

I think my blog may have been hijacked. I haven’t written in forever because I’ve been writing …for my job, which may mean I’m no longer a “jobless goddess.” I may just be a regular goddess.
I love the word jack. I could use that all day. Whatever, hopefully those who want to read the blog will read. Back to jack. It’s a cool freaking word. I had a brother-in-law named Jack who pretty much personified the word “cool.” He’s gone too soon and missed by everybody.
There’s Billy Jack, get back Jack, Jack Sprat, Jack Nicholson, Jack Berry, Jack in the Box, Jumping Jack Flash. And my favorite, a little ditty my sister introduced me to, “Jack Mother.” This is a something you say when someone cuts you off on the highway. “I’m sorry officer, I was cut off by that Jack Mother in the blue Subaru.”
My brother Steve has a friend named Jack. I thought he was about the greatest thing ever when I was 12. Who are we kidding? I probably still do. Jackie was hilariously funny and I loved to watch my brot…
Recent posts

It’s nice to have a job

What a week. I interviewed two really remarkable people: Antonino D’Ambrosio and Aamion Goodwin. That’s pronounced Ah-mayan for all you who were as clueless as myself.
I’ve had a thing for Frank Serpico ever since I saw the movie “Serpico” some 45 years ago and plastered Al Pacino’s face on my teenage bedroom wall. That was Al’s big break you know. Anyway, now D’Ambrosio has made a documentary with the real live Frank Serpico. I’m here to tell you, it may be because I’ll be 60 in a few years, but that 81-year-old Italian American is still very easy on the eyes.
The more D’Ambrosio told me about Frank, the more I fell for him all over again. He went up against NYC police corruption in the early 1970s and ended up paying the ultimate price…he’s still got a bullet lodged in his brain. Sometimes this whole newspaper thing is pretty darn sweet.
Then I talked with Aamion Goodwin. At first I was stuck on the fact that he said “right on” a few times in our initial conversation. Then I called him…

Little women

I’m getting a real kick out of my co-workers these days. I’m working with about a half dozen young women — young being the operative word.
They’re all so freaking competent it kills me. They can write like it’s nobody’s business, they all take great photos to go with their stories, and they almost always laugh at my jokes. I call them ‘the girls.’
They’re either about to go to university, just leaving university, or all done with it and on their way. They do yoga and eat a lot of avocados. We live on Martha’s Vineyard and none of them know who John Belushi is but they all know they should keep using the same plastic cup for take out iced coffee over and over and over again. If they see a bug, they think twice before killing it. Actually they leave it for me to kill because they couldn’t possibly… and they know I won’t hesitate.
We get along just fine the girls and me. Oh, there’s a little trouble when I insist on running the window air conditioner up in our second floor office —ramsha…