Ellen Caserta had a great time at her son's wedding and more! MacArthur Genius Grants announced today

 Now she is back home at an ACTS facility FOULKEWAYS AT GWYNNEDD. She arranged for a cheaper way to pay. I used to visit her when she lived in a gorgeous apartment in Mount Airy. But she has a condition and cannot live alone.

Click here and you'll see her former home. 

It's also the only way I can put photos on here.

https://www.nytimes.com/2021/09/28/arts/macarthur-genius-grant-2021.html

It's always exciting to read about the Macarthur Genius Grants, even tho we now deal with their estate!

We hope this works.

I have been loafing most terribly today, watching videos of Missing Persons. One was of Daniel Robinson, a Black geologist, who is missing in the Grand Canyon.

His dad had to hire a private investigator. That I watched on CNN.

Oh dear. Six o clock now which means watching THE PBS EVENING NEWS HOUR.

If I wanna get really down, I will watch the show.

My friend Coach Iris knew a doctor who won the grant. 

Dr. Mary Tinetti, a geriatric doctor, who won a Macarthur grant.

Ellen Rosenberg, I finally found you!!!

 Finally, finally, I got in touch with Ellen Caserta Rosenberg and we talked for 30 minutes.

What a life she's had.

We spoke about many of her relationships.

She and St Anthony still love each other but they are no longer a couple.

Why? Her body is messed up from all her diseases. Her left hand is a claw. Truth.

Call her at 267 992 1429.

I could not frigging believe she answered. 

Visitors? Yes. Joanne Davis. Joanne had driven her here before she checked into Brandywine, then checked into Foulkeways at Gwynnedd, where the care is better.

You must read my blog post here. 

If it doesn't work, click https://ruthzdeming.blogspot.com/2015/05/visit-to-new-home-of-ellen-rosenberg.html.

We're talking and everything I say, she challenges.

You are sooo oppositional, I say.

Johannes Ponsen moved into Cathedral Village. 

They have a great pool there.

Once or twice I met my friend Rose there and went swimming.

Johannes' photo is on the home page of New Directions.

Scroll WAY DOWN. 

Ellen's son Adam is getting married. I said, have Anthony drive you, just go into his tractor trailer. In fact, they will do something like that.

She said she thinks of me fondly.

Moi aussi!

Visit to the new home of Ellen Rosenberg

 Armed with good directions and my iPhone, I made no mistakes - who me? - and found Ellen's medieval castle of an apartment complex just where she said it was - on Upsal Avenue. I parked on the street and phoned her with my iPhone. Dan will be so proud of me. Well, I'M PROUD OF ME.

Ellen points to her faerie garden inside this bird cage.

Every single thing she has is lovely to look at. 

Upsal Garden Apartments are quite lovely. I restrained myself and took only a few photos, mostly interiors.

She's a collector. View these Delft pottery vessels.

Comfy couch, where after our tea and snacks, Little Ruthie took a 7-minute nap.

 Photo of Ellen and her late husband Gene Caserta when they were in Florence, Italy. A Morse code machine is next to that and on the lower shelf is a bronze copy of a $1 million dollar check when Ellen's late father sold his tool and die business. See also below.

 Ellen and her son Adam.

Here's the check. Hmmm, wonder how we could rip off a bank by using it as a lithograph and running off with a million dollars.

Well, that's why I'm not a crook. No good at it. Though I used to work for a very nice man who is serving a very long sentence for being a crook. 

He also has a FB page if you're the kind of gal who believes prisoners are innocent and wants to marry them. I wrote a short story about him called "The Reunion" which has been rejected a dozen times.

I told my new neighbor friend Jolie I'm gonna spend the night revising some of my short stories and mailing them to lit mags.

 Sketch of Ellen's daughter Vanessa who owns home-made ice cream stores in NC.

 "Time!" by the Chambers Brothers. Dyou know how long it took me to find out who sang this?

I knew it was an R & B group, but for chrissakes who?

Went on YouTube, typed in 'time,' nuffin happened, then I remembered 'TIME HAS COME TODAY.'

Rock along with me, will you hipsters! See my barefoot toes tapping as I sip on my tea.

Gene Caserta was VP of the Federal Transportation Union, is that right, Ellen? A famous artist dedicated this print to Gene

See Wiki about Ralph Fasanella. 

Look how Obama is selling out the working-class people with his new six-year trade agreement, totally conducted in secret.  

"Come see the art work in my hall way!" said Ellen. 

 What's this gorgeous piece of lace?

 Baby curly-headed Ellen and Mom. Ellen's sister is Liz Rosenberg whose YA bio of the author of Anne of Green Gables just came out.

  Hi Liz. Pleased to meet you, ma'am. I'm a friend of your sister Ellen's.

I curtsey. The two of em are very close, confidantes.

What a beautiful appliqued bedspread.

She has an ironing board in her BR.

 Here's Ellen's BF Andy. While I was there, he called.

Hi Honey, she said when she answered. Then she became jubilant!

Andy is studying to be a social worker at Kutztown University and got an A on his final. He thought he'd done terribly!

They took a trip to Mexico and saw the ruins above.

 Who's that older woman with your son Adam on his h.s. graduation day? Ellen looks fantastic.

"You're not fat at all," I said by way of greeting. She walks all the time since she totaled her car. She is thinking about buying a new one.

In February, she's off to Viet Nam to help child victims of Agent Orange.

Lots of shows on PBS about Viet Nam b/c it's the 40th anniv of The Fall of Saigon.

Collection of her tin soldiers and Gene's train with toys. 

When I finish bloggin, am gonna take a long look at all these photos, still sipping my tea and tapping my tooties to Time, Now the Time Has Come... great song

 Romare Bearden print! Imagine that!

 Japanese print of a certain style. Picasso was very influenced by these.

This is an indoor A/C and fan. Andy had a helluva time setting it up. See the exhaust going out the window?

Although it was hot outside, the inside was very comfortable.

 Ellen's fave piece of jade. There were several about the house AND load of artificial flowers that were incredibly beautiful.

 This Matisse-like original with all of its patterns was a wedding gift to Ellen.

Over the phone, before I left, Ellen asked me if I wanted to some delicious fried chicken she buys at the Acme.

No, I said, but can you get me some turkey and cheese at the Deli Counter?

Ach! Was that good! White cheddar cheese. 

And the tea we drank. This was a special black tea blend - that tasted like lavender was added - a Downton Abbey tea.

Neither of us enjoyed watching Wolf Hall. 

That leg-apart stride. Why would anyone stand like that? Boils on his crotch?

Ellen accompanied me outside as she had to go buy something. Can't rightly remember.

For dinner I had this vacuum-sealed refrigerated container of delicious Manhattan Clam Chowder.

Everything has that line-up of sticks.... universal product code.

Wrote a poem - no one will publish it - which talks about this.

 But, first, the Chambers' Brothers are singing People Get Ready. Let's find out who composed it.

The gospel-influenced track was a Curtis Mayfield composition, and displayed the growing sense of social and political awareness in his writing. Rolling Stone magazine named "People Get Ready" the 24th greatest song of all time

Scott and I were discussing this. How must the engineer feel about killing 7 of his passengers?

I said to Scott, maybe he has a good excuse, like he was having an epileptic seizure at the time.


FOR THE POET TAKEN AWAY

in memory of Jane Kenyon (1947-1995)

I was looking for
a book of poetry
asparagas-thin,
skinny books being
easier on one's chest for
bedtime reading.

Finding one,
I brought it to the sales girl
who sighed and said,
"Oh, dear,
it doesn't have a bar code."

Ah, blessed day
for poets and for me.
I looked at the back cover,
clean, unmarred
by that fat
disorderly line-up of sticks.

"No wonder," I said to the sales girl.
"The author has just died
and probably took them with her."

On my way to the car
I invited the poet
to slip inside me.
"Use my body any time you wish,"
I said and waited, my feet
pattering on the pavement,
for some sort of inner settling
that never came.

I showed her
the cluster of winter weeds,
their tassels dark with age.
Somehow, in the construction
of this aromatic new bookstore,
they managed to escape
the carnage that befell the
more obvious trees and woodlands.

Did she miss them?
these earthly sights -
thick-maned dogs, ponds, frosty maples -
images from her poems.

I will miss them,
when the time comes,
something as simple as
the back of my hand
creasing with wrinkles;
fingernails, all without
a trace of moons,
a family trait. 

NAMI WALK n TALK

Judy and I drove down together. Nothing like driving w/someone when you're impossibly lost and are circling around Montgomery County Community College which is hidden from view and so is the sign.

That's Tracey on the right. She and fiancee Mark live close by.

As Judy and I drove we listened to my new audio tape, "Hide," a crime fiction book by Lisa Gardner. Never heard of it either but the car is a safe place to listen. At home, I'd be checking to make sure all my doors are still locked.

And now I have a new door to worry about in my kitchen. Two nites in a row I forgot to lock it.

What better opportunity to wear my "Ask Me Why I Have Three Kidneys Shirt?"

Bob, our team captain, walked w/ Sandy.

In toto, Dorothy, we had NINE MEMBERS.

Since we were so late we didn't meet up with TEAM NEW DIRECTIONS until the end of the walk.

Imagine my surprise when I saw:

Maisie held by FILL IN THE BLANK. Paul Anka's most famous song.

With the new Blogger system, I don't know how to erase a foto, so we've got Diana twice.

This young gent is studying to be a counselor. He's taking advantage of some of the delicious snack food and fruit available for the walkers. I personally thought there were a lot of people. I saw so many people I knew such as Dave Mauermann, no. two guy at Horsham Clink.

I also met the CEO of Horsham Phyllis someone. Sev'l people from Team New Directions were hospitalized there, including a professor, a dance therapist and a project manager for a corporation.

Lovely in Blue is Professor Ellen Rosenberg-Caserta.

Afterward we went out for lunch at the art-deco styled Ray's Diner in Norristown.

Everyone had pancakes. I wanted to ask Tracey for a bite of her bananana-nut cakes but I was so busy gobbling down my shrimp salad that the waitress Noelle took her syrup-soaked plate away.

Lunch with Blanche and Judy - What do you wear when it's 65 outside? / Poem Titanic

We met at the Hollywood Tavern in that wonderful area of Rockledge called "Hollywood" b/c of the style of the houses and names of the streets. See above house for sale.

From Wiki:

Hollywood is an unincorporated community in the southern portion of Abington Township, Montgomery County, Pennsylvania, United States. It is well known for its collection of Southern California-style homes.

The 174-home neighborhood got its start when a builder from California, Gustav Weber filed plans to build a small subdivision in 1928. The homes were built in pastel colors with flat roofs, similar to Spanish-style homes in the Los Angeles area. Streets were named Los Angeles, San Diego, Pasadena and San Gabriel.^[1]

However, one of Weber's problems was that the neighborhood was not built to cope with the Northeastern winters. Plants native to Southern California and moravian tile sidewalks were included in his plans. The plants died in the cold. Homes were not insulated and could not withstand the cold. The flat roofs leaked. The tile cracked and was replaced by concrete. As a result significant modifications were made to the homes since they were built.

The neighborhood was never finished according to Weber's plans. Possible reasons ranged from the 1929 stock market crash to an unfaithful wife.^[1] A local developer ended up finishing the development in the 1940s.^[2]

Unfortunately, the famous Hollywood Tavern didn't open till 3 pm, so Blanche drove us to The Corner Cafe in a huge shopping center nearby. She's 86 and forgets to put on her turn signal and has trouble parking.

Judy and I reminded her how to do these things. She drives a lovely car. I didn't recognize the logo on the back and learned it was a Mercury Sable. Ford stopped its production in 2009. I told her that my dad's family doctor, R Bruce Lutz, drove one and used to make house visits when dad was dying of cancer.

Blanche wanted us to stop talking about sickness. I had shared that Dr Lutz only had one eye. The other was removed due to cancer.

The food was good. I'd definitely go back again.

We were seated immediately. I took a seat that gave me a view of only a few other tables. So the first thing I see is a table of three. One of the women is mentally ill. My guess is schizophrenia. I remember her from one of the NAMI meetings when they were held on Sundays in Glenside.

The woman, who was quite beautiful and definitely Jewish, barely speaks.

Why doesn't she?

The president of NAMI Montgomery County moved the meetings to Lansdale and Montgomery County Community College (have you ever tried to park there?) so none of us go anymore.

Judy moved into a b'ful spacious new apartment, Section 8 HUD housing.

Ruth, she said, my other apartment was so tiny, I don't know what to do with all this space!

She had a bowl of Breyer's vanilla ice cream when we got home.

"I just love it," she said. Then she excused herself to go into the bathroom for a smoke.

"Wait a minute," I said. "You eat your ice cream and then you wanna smoke?"

"Yes," she said.

Judy had absolutely beautiful dishes. The cups were shapely. A soft pastel.

"The first thing I'm gonna do when I get some money," I told her, "is buy some new dishes."

"Oh, but I love your yellow dishes," she said.

"Yeah, but they're chipped."

I told her I bought them when I was working as a therapist (Judy had also been a therapist - we both went to Hahnemann) and I wanted to invite a young intern over for dinner.

Greg Perri now has his PsyD and works in his hometown of Louisville KY. One of his jobs, I told her, is to evaluate graduates of the police academy to see if they would make good police officers. I shared a fairly horrible story of one man he didn't recommend. The police department almost always takes his recommendation.

I miss that guy!

This morning I called my friend Ellen Caserta b/c I was gonna interview her for the Compass. Instead it was more fun talking to her.

She's a professor at De Vry University. Very smart family. Her sister Liz, who was once married to John Gardner, is a poet and a teacher at SUNY Binghampton.

While we chatted, I was upstairs in Sarah's old bedroom w/the pink carpet and pink walls sorting out my poems. There's about a dozen categories, the biggest being "Neighbors."

For two years I looked for my poem Titanic and finally found it.

When I worked as a therapist at Bristol-Bensalem Human Services I arranged to meet famous local poet Christopher Bursk early one morning and give him "all" my poems to critique. I only brought him 38, and I could not understand any of his notations, except for stars and exclamation points. Here's page one (of two) of Titanic.

BTW, this Google blog changed its format and YOU CAN ONLY CLICK ONCE on a photo to enlarge. This absolutely sucks!!!


TITANIC

In the dark theatre where
I sat wedged between a man
and his wife, both invisible
but felt, and a teenage boy and girl
scooping popcorn from a bag,

I became pained by boredom
and worried by things
to come.
I fled to the lobby to search my soul.
Would it be cowardly to
pay my money and leave without anything?
In desperation I examined each
glass-enclosed case
filled to flowing with candy
and merry, bright-
colored drinks.

I opened my mouth
to speak to the girl
but no words would come out.
Empty-handed I returned to my seat.

There were fourteen theatres
crouched side by side
I re-entered the dark tomb from
whence I came.
Crawled over the woman's legs,
then the man's, feeling first
her lightness,
then the boniness of the man,
even as he retreated
from my touch.

I wondered
when taking my seat,
alone, unprotected by
a husband or even an acquaintance,
if it might be possible
when the waters
began rushing in and the
people were swept from the
places they clung to,

if I might, ever so gently,
lay my hand on the arm of
the man next to me,
a gentle touch, invisible almost,
to comfort me when the
icy waters swept us under.

*

Now I do have another poem about sitting next to someone in a theater. Lemme run upstairs and retrieve it. I put it in the pile called "Institutions" meaning the poem took place at an institution such as The Keswick Theater in Glenside.

HANDS AND THIGHS

We sat in the aisle seats
Row V at the Keswick
a black man sat next to me
and slept quietly
during the exciting parts.

I held your hand and felt
fingers that have fixed
trains and strummed guitars
washed dishes in Playtex gloves and
hung your laundry to dry
in the basement.

My thigh touched the black man's
I let it be
He wore a gold earring in one ear
and had a charming wife
who was sipping wine,
while you and I darling were
dying of thirst
but waited to get home to our
separate refrigerators
where I'd drink my water with lemon
and you'd drink your Britta.

The boys onstage wanted the lights on
to better commune with the audience
their music made love to one another
Chick's hands zipping across the 88s
watch gleaming like starlight across the
eleven hundred in the audience
his new pal Bela wound his fingers
around his banjo
music that filled up the theater
and held us all under the ceiling
as one body
in love with the whole damn world
for one evening in June.