There was something raw and tender about the winter of 1998. Living in Boston at the time, and following the bloody trail of my bruised but not yet broken heart, I longed for love as I got lost in the muck of desire and decadent depravity. It wasn’t a sexual awakening I was seeking, or even a blooming of the soul, it was the acceptance of not knowing where I was meant to be, and greater than that an acceptance of realizing I might never know. It was the journey of almost every early-twenty-something – both lost and found, both elated and despondent – and I embraced it as much as I pushed it away.
That March, Madonna released her best album to date, ‘Ray of Light’, the album that changed her career, solidified her status as an artistic force (when she so desired), and gave her lifelong fans cause for celebration and reflection at once. The music was especially moving for me – one of those moments of youth where music collides with the magical time of the early twenties – and in each song I found something in which to marvel, to ponder, to wonder.
The witching hour of the midnight release at Tower Records on Newbury Street arrived and the new Madonna music poured forth from the sound system. After rushing back with album in hand, I hastily put it on the stereo and laid down on the cold wooden floor. My silly retail job – the very first job I procured on my own, and one that I loved so dearly because I was so good at it – would begin in just a few hours. It didn’t matter. Madonna’s voice – the one that guided me throughout my childhood, the one that had shaped me into the young man I was – sounded throughout the empty rooms. Born out of night and darkness, born out of the depths of winter which echoed with frozen memories, it was music to soothe the soul. Looking back, I realize it was music of meditation, even if I was decades from meditating.
Today marks the 24th anniversary of the American release of ‘Ray of Light’, and with the day comes the remembrance of the night I flew through Copley Square and the front yard of Trinity Church on roller blades, my black coat fluttering wildly behind me as I screamed loudly into the night air. It recalls the fall I said hello to a new love and the following winter in which I said goodbye. It brings back the loss of innocence, torn from the firmament of my youth like a little falling star. More than that, it shines a sliver of light on a past that feels both dimmer and brighter than it probably ever really was, cracking open the heart like a frozen drop of water cracks open a rock.
Stage, screen and television star Ariana DeBose recently won a Screen Actor’s Guild award, setting the stage for further Oscar gold thanks to her turn in ‘West Side Story’. After turns in ‘Hamilton‘ and ‘The Prom‘ she proves her status as a triple threat, and now she can add Dazzler of the Day to all that glory.
Arriving at this second day of March, a simple bouquet comprised of a trio of tulip blooms and a riotous little bunch of ranunculus makes for a primary triumvirate of color when backed by a blue winter sky. Hints of the seasons to come, hopes for the last winter days to tick by quickly, but not too quickly, as there is wonder and some magic in the waiting.
When so little of the outside world feels fresh or alive, a baby bouquet like this makes all the difference. The power of a single flower can still the most formidable winter day. All the sun seems to inhabit its bright face ~ all the warmth and all the glory.
Andy takes care of all of my Mini-Cooper’s bang-ups and bruises, sometimes with his own hands, and sometimes with a skillfully-handled phone call with the insurance company after a stone dented the windshield on I-87 during a recent trip to Amsterdam. Such an act is always appreciated, because after being on the phone during a typical day at work, doing the same thing on my off-hours would prove too unhappily awful. As thanks, I put together this bouquet of flowers to greet the month that spring returns, as Andy is getting as antsy as most of us.
He recently floated out the idea of an early pool-opening, mostly I think to keep our minds and thoughts buoyed with the hope of a warm spring and summer, especially after last year. I’d be happy with a couple days of sun and warmth, and not ask for the moon and stars just yet. But I won’t say no to it if it happens, and as we enjoy the sun coming into the bedroom in the afternoon, we feel it linger, throwing rainbows up onto the ceiling and walls from the crystal lamp finial by the window.
I added some bright yellow lilies to this arrangement to signal that the first month of spring is at hand, and in about twenty days we will officially be in the swing of things. Until then, let’s have a few more flower bouquets to pass the time in prettiness and gratitude.
It was the mid-90’s, and in the midst of the tattered-flannel grunge muck I was just starting to acknowledge my sexuality. Flickering boldly across the television screen was the audaciously and unapologetically queer character of Rickie Vasquez on ‘My So-Called Life’. He was astonishing to me – so supremely confident, yet so heartbreakingly vulnerable – and the portrayal of such a person by the exquisitely talented Wilson Cruz suddenly made me realize that there might be a place in the world for other queer kids like myself. In the ensuing years, I came out and began to find my way in the world, forever thankful to Cruz for showing me another way, while Cruz forged his own journey in Hollywood, crafting a career in defiance of the typical entertainment rules for openly gay people of color. His trailblazing continues to this day, as evidenced by his current turn on ‘Star Trek: Discovery’, boldly going where no one has gone before as he shares an on-screen kiss with his on-screen husband. That’s courage. That’s bravery. That’s even more than a Dazzler of the Day.
What a wild winter week it’s been, with whispers of war carrying on the wind and the wicked tumult of a world that is inconceivably giving space and possibility to thoughts of encroaching autocracy. While I wonder and shake my head at such notions, let’s get on with this recap, and close our February chapter of 2022 with a dismal thud.
Every now and then this silly Dazzler of the Day feature highlights someone of supreme import and beloved admiration, and things turn slightly more serious. Today that honor belongs to Volodymyr Zelenskyy, the President of Ukraine, so valiantly fighting to hold onto his country’s democracy in the face of advancing autocracy and the unwarranted and unprovoked attacks by Russia and Putin. Zelenskyy has rallied his people, and summoned the support of the entire world against Russia’s awful aggression. He has galvanized his citizens, defiantly turning down offers from other countries when they asked if he wanted to leave his own: “I need ammunition, not a ride.” It’s a powerful moment, an impressive lesson, and plants the seeds of a memorable legacy, even if he said early on that such glory is not the purpose of his serving as President. Today, Zelenskyy is named Dazzler of the Day, because it’s the only little thing I can do from this dismal point of helplessness.
PS – He was also a winner on Ukraine’s ‘Dancing with the Stars’. Look it up.
These dried hydrangea blooms were captured before the fall of snow and the heavy blanket currently encasing the land. They are proof of winter’s enduring beauty. At first glance, they look too dainty and delicate to survive a single night of winter weather, but do not let their papery looks deceive you: they are strong and durable, standing up to rain, wind, ice, snow and all the rest that Mother Nature has piled on them this season. Such strength and determination to remain, in the face of a world so seemingly determined to destroy, is the sort of resistance that the very best of us can find inspiring.
He got his entertainment boom as a contestant on ‘The Bachelor’ and this year Jesse Palmer returns to that space as host of the television show. While I’m happy to have missed out on all incarnations of that American viewing experience, I’m equally happy to have witnessed Palmer’s charming hosting duties on several cooking championship shows on the Food Network. All of the above is reason enough for his first crowning as Dazzler of the Day. A host with the most, indeed.
My ongoing obsession with Tara Kitchen and their Moroccan recipes finds me making a valiant effort in capturing the essence of their Chicken Tagine with Pomegranate, Carrots and Harissa. This is the dish that Andy ordered on our first dinner at Tara Kitchen, and it was a wonder. The delicious trick at the heart of what makes it so good is the balance of sweetness from the pomegranate molasses and honey with the spicy heat from the harissa – and the end result is a wondrous experience for the mouth and tongue. Hats off to Chef Aneesa Waheed on another glorious tagine recipe. I’m slowly making my way through the ones she has posted on the Tara Kitchen website, and eagerly awaiting her cookbook…
The outside world may be covered in a heavy blanket of snow, but inside the houseplants are showing signs of new growth, indicating that we are closer to spring than it appears or feels. This ficus was a birthday gift from ‘Aunt’ Elaine a few years ago. Every winter it drops a few of its leaves, as if making way for the new crop of fresh ones that start pushing through now.
With all the news of late – such atrocities here and abroad that I can’t even begin to formulate a way to express my sadness and concern – I find it calming to return the focus to these simple leaves, daring to come through when winter still holds us in its wicked grip.
The sunflower is the national flower of Ukraine. Sunflowers are also one of their biggest crops and exports. The seeds and their oil comprise a huge chunk of the world’s supply. The sunflower represents hope and warmth – the embodiment of the sun after which they are named. When I heard of this story of a Ukrainian woman boldly admonishing a Russian soldier who had invaded her country, my heart broke. She put her own life at risk, bravely speaking her mind about the Russian occupation, and powerfully condemning his presence, insisting he put sunflower seeds in his pockets for when he died on Ukrainian soil. A chilling comment on what is happening now.
When we were little kids, my brother was basically my best friend. Of course I had school friends, and Suzie, but no one spent as much time with me as my brother. I was the shy one between us, and in many ways he was the courageous and social one. Most of the time I ended up tagging along with him and his friends rather than the typical older sibling leading the way. It worked – he would talk to just about anyone, and I could see who was safe and decide who to invest in. He was my gateway to socialization.
As we got older and went in entirely opposite ways (which was no accident as we were born at the most diametrically-opposite positions on the calendar: February 25 and August 24) we fell out of each other’s circles, and moved far away from being the friends I thought we were. It was then that our brotherhood held us together – the blood given to us by our parents and shared only by us – and it has been enough to see us through all these years. Eventually we got back to being friends again, the way we always did after every fight or argument. After 45 years of having him here, we may have finally figured out how to be friends and brothers.
Today is his birthday, so Happy Birthday baby bro! I love you.
