Shaking hands w/former President Bill Clinton at Upper Moreland High School - Met atty general candidate Kathleen Kane

Hello Bill Clinton. Nice to meet you. We shook hands. What a thrill! When I lived in San Fran, I shook Bobby Kennedy's hand and also shook Jill Biden's hand when she came to Roslyn, PA when her husband Joe Biden ran on the Obama ticket.

But Bill Clinton! He's the best. He's 6 months younger than me - age 65 - born in August, 1946. But I bet he doesn't have three kidneys like I do.

Parked above the high school on Reed Street to avoid traffic. A little church is there, Hope Community.

Kathleen Kane is running for attorney general of PA. Clinton was there to promote her. Few people knew about their appearances. Fortunately Bill left me a message. Kane, 45, and the mother of two boys, 9 and 11, was endorsed by the Inquirer.

A long line led up to the Gymnasium.

I said to Grace below, It's good to see so many Democrats. What a beautiful word!

I stood next to Grace Soltis and a friend of hers. Somehow I told her about my kidney TP from taking lithium for bipolar disorder. When I tell people this, some folks have never heard of lithium but Grace had.

She said she'd suffered from bad depression for many years and then discovered 5HTP, a chemical precursor of serotonin and melatonin.

I told her I'd tell my support group about it. She and her husband live in Blue Bell. Like me, she's interested in politics, environmental issues, and human rights.

Here's my friend Alex Zachariah who seems to be one of the VIPs that made the event happen.

He and two of his three daughters sat in the VIP section. I waved to the girls who I haven't seen in ages.

There was an empty seat in the VIP section, so, unknowingly, I sat down there. You had to wear an ORANGE BAND but I refused to get up. No way would I stand up for the next hour to hear the speakers.

Was worried I'd get caught but found myself chatting with one of the women in charge, echoing other people's sentiments about the seating.

For a good while, they refused to open the bleachers. Hundreds of people were standing up - many of them elderly - and it was definitely not fair for a party that espouses helping our senior citizens - to cause them this discomfort.

Finally, they listened to reason.

The media people have a special platform. I went over to say hello to the Patch.com Upper Moreland editor Gerry Dungan who I used to work for. He's with one of their photographers.

Gerry said there were about 350 people in the gym. It never got more than one-third full.

I gave Connie Schott of Abington my VIP seat. The gym was incredibly noisy. First, the jazz band played, and then people were jabbering with the sound echoing all over the gym.

Represented were the young and the very old and fragile.

It took a village to help this old guy get seated. Bleacher seating is a nightmare - hard to distinguish the depth - what is the seat? what is the step?


Alan and Elaine Klawans, artists who I profiled on Patch.com, were initially standing in the middle of the crowd when the bleachers opened up.

I ran over and got them. Elaine is reading David McCollough's book The Johnstown Flood for our next library book discussion. I told her I just finished Joan Didion's well-wrin but melancholy book on the death of her 37-yo daughter Quintana Roo called Blue Nights. Nearly two years earlier her husband John Gregory Dunne died of a heart attack. At the kitchen table.

Boink!

We are putty in the winds of chance.

Oh, I forgot. God needed these people up in heaven, hence he causes horrific suffering here on earth.

Also in our section of the bleachers was Joel Angerson(o), one of two JoJo busdrivers who drove the Kathleen Kane family and fans in from Scranton, where they live. Kane was not on the bus. I think she was in Clinton's motorcade.

Joel began speaking to me in Italiano, believing I was a barefoot country lass originally from Italy. I told him I was Jewish but often mistaken for Italian. He wore a b'ful ring - which he got when he was a paratrooper in the navy.

Kathleen Kane spoke about her qualifications to be atty general. I took notes but frankly I wanna finish this up quickly since I've got, ahem, better things to do.

WHEN I SPOKE to Kathleen, I thanked her for mentioning in her talk all the many people that make up The Commonwealth of Pennsylvania.

She mentioned people with "mental disorders." I thanked her for INCLUDING US and said I run a support group. She agreed it was very important to support all of us despite huge budget cuts now on the table in Harrisburg.

Above photo is taken from my photo which I enlarged. Don't know how to do it for the blog, tho.

Someone introduced me to Frank somebody, communications director for the Kane campaign.

I asked him where Clinton would make his entrance.

"No way is he gonna walk thru the crowd," said Frank and pointed over to the left where he'd enter UNSEEN.

Later I learned where this was. Keep reading.

Kane was an excellent speaker. Every time the name Bill Clinton was mentioned - or his entire beautiful name - William Jefferson Clinton - the audience would break out into thunderous applause.

As soon as he was finished, I gathered my things - my camera and notepad - and walk over to the left of the auditorium.

Bill Clinton was somewhere in the middle, impossible to see.

These very big men w/huge cameras were right in front of me. No-nonsense men. Sturdy in their places as building pillars.

In one of their cameras I saw....Bill Clinton perfectly.

OMG, he was right there. Right there in front of me.

I'm short, I said, to the big camera guy, let me thru. No one could hear anyone speak for the roar of the crowd, but I elbowed my way through.

And there he was. You think to yourself, He's just a person. What's the big deal. And, yes, that is true. But he's a person who has the power to change the world....and does.



He was surrounded by some serious looking Secret Service men.

My journey had come to fruition.

"I'm never gonna wash my hands again," said an older woman to her friend. We all smiled. Gee, I never thought of that, not washing your hands, which I did as soon as I got home cuz I had to check my blood sugar. It was fine. Elaine Klawans had shared w/me a peanut butter cracker. I left my own food - cheese and Triscuits - at home on the couch, forgotten.

Clinton and Kane were quite fond of one another. The bus driver, Joel, who told me his father was an alleged mafioso, said the Kane family are very nice people.

I kept snapping away, hoping my batteries wouldn't die. Same as I did last Friday on my trip to DC.

"What's that bracelet you're wearing," I asked Bill.

"I wear it all the time," he said. "It's from Columbia."

He said something about stopping the drug lords from Columbia, but frankly I was too dazzled to pay attention.

The Internet says some kids gave it to him to welcome him to their country.
Here's Kane and the Secret Service behind her.

While Clinton was meeting the audience, the Secret Service would put their hands on his back.

Okay, this is really cool! After I left, I walked up a hill to return to my car on Reed Street. It was twilight but my camera makes it look like day.

This is the motorcade that brought him to town.

I yelled down to what appeared to be Security by the stairs.

"Is this the Motorcade?" I asked rhetorically.

"I'm not allowed to tell you," she said.

"Are you a police officer?" I called.

"I'm with the Secret Service," she said.

"Wow," I yelled. "I shook Clinton's hand and it was a great experience."

"Good for you!" she said.

"Have a good nite," I said as I walked off toward my car.

I turned around to look back on the spectacle that occurred in my home town, Willow Grove, PA, the day Clinton spoke. Fortunately I didn't turn into a pillar of salt like Lot's wife when she looked back on the destruction of.....Babylon?

I said good nite to these Upper Moreland police officers who were part of the security detail.

Driving home down Terwood Road, the cops did traffic control to move the traffic out of the high school.

I tried to make this blog interesting since undoubtedly Bill Clinton is pouring over it as he takes off from the Philadelphia airport.

Lunching w/Grace - Preparing to see Bill Clinton in an hour

Grace has lunch at my house with Bubby and Grandmom.

They've been coming over for lunch and a 90-min nap since Dan n Nicole are having central air put in. Takes four days cuz they have no ductwork.

Grandmom Barb Toohey brushes her long hair which used to look like this a year ago:

I snatched this photo off FB.
I showed Grace the squirrels who live in the windowbox just outside her room. There's three of them.

In prior years, sparrows lived there. Wonder what happened? I'll ask Beatriz, biologist from my writing group.

Before I go to bed at nite, I shut the bedroom door beyond where the squirrel's live. This is clearly irrational. I do it b/c I'm afraid the squirrels will gnaw their way into the house.

Am planning on seeing former President Bill Clinton tonite. He's appearing at the nearby Upper Moreland High School. Went for a trial run this morning to find a street beyond the high school where I'll park and then trot down to the school gymnasium.

All my gear will be in my pockets including camera and food in case of lo blood sugar attack. That's the killer. I've already stuffed myself - two pieces organic chicken, asparagus stalks and cooked carrots and 5 whole wheat pretzel sticks.

The Artist Within Me Woke Up - The horror of Squirrels - The Timelessness of Baseball - Poem: Passover Phantasy

Was outside this morning clipping bushes and went over into Scott's backyard. His back porch was overtaken by ivy, which, while b'ful, is extremely destructive. I clipped it away from the floor and wall and discovered....

a large white PVC pipe.

Immediately I saw it flashing with colors: colors I had painted it.

I hied over to Lowe's. Outside the store by the BBQs, I asked a guy in a red shirt, "Sir, dyou work at Home Depot?"

"Yeah, Lowe's," he said. "What would you like? This is my first day."

"Wow," I said, "congratulations."

Believe me, I know how hard it is to get a job in these hard economic times.

He referred me to Trudy, who was right there.

I asked where the PVP pipes were. Aisle 17 on the right when you go inside.

On I went with my very large red cart and selected this fine specimen:

I'm gonna paint it and put it in my garden. About 6 years ago I took a class on metal sculpture - I used a welding arc - and wanted to make a sculpture for my garden, but never did. This will certainly be a fine replacement.

Then I went over to the paint department and met Walter Sharon, 76, of Elkins Park. He's only been there a month but took me to the latex paints. Very poor selection, in the small cans, but I bot a few and Scott will give me some other colors.

Hey, just remembered I was at the Women's Art Museum in DC so maybe that's why I'm so gung-ho and envision a bright-colored abstract.

Walt and I got to talking. I told him about my transplant and he said his wife Linda has had kidney trouble for the past 10 years. They don't know why. She has a top doc at Penn and is doing well. She's on the special diet I was on. They do not eat meat (high in phosphorus).

I suggested the miracle of t plantation, suggesting one of their two sons might donate. Both kids and their children are living in China!

Of course I told him Sarah will be going to China in May to cover the Olympic Finals. She was recently hired by NBC who will fly her to London so she can be an assistant to the announcer, giving him facts on women's boxing, my little darling.

Sarah and one of her boxer friends she covered for Huffington Post.

Late in the afternoon, around naptime, Scott ran into my house.

"Come quick!" he said.

I ran outside after him to the side of the house. He pointed upward to the flower box outside Sarah's room.

Formerly sparrows lived inside.

To my shock, tiny brown heads peeped above the flowers box. They were not birds.

What are they? I asked. MICE?

They're baby squirrels, he said.

A squirrel family now lives in the windowbox. When Rich Claire painted the bedroom a month ago, he told me squirrels would often scamper to the window to look in on him.

We both wondered how they got up there.

Knife-sharp front claws.

While blogging, I watched the show Jews and Baseball: An American Love Story. I'd forgotten about slugger Al Rosen, a Cleveland Indian I adored. Still alive and good-lookin at 88!


The legendary Koufax is only 76. Born in - where else? - Brooklyn, cradle of the Jews.

Shhh! The squirrels are asleep.

PASSOVER PHANTASY

she has stopped making seder.

mother dines alone, breaking the

matzoh in pieces.

the table is bare.

house silent but for the

often ferocious winds of

april that sound like

the children, and the white dog.

Her potato flour sponge-cake

gobbled by all, even the

white dog named Triscuit,

and that black-haired husband

of hers who died, quite bald

from radiation, at fifty nine.

let’s bring them back.

back to this house, huge,

lawn fertilized by juan

and his men, the kids in the

backyard playing duck duck goose

laughter spilling over to the

austins in the back who grew their

own tomatoes and whose cornstalks

reminded mom of the trip she took

to amish country as a girl.

with a whistle lynn brings us together

as we crowd around the long table

viewing ourselves in the mirror

daddy’s nose always looked crooked

my long black hair parted on the wrong side

grape juice for the minors

manichewitz for the majors

aunt ethel arrives, her death will bring us

a fortune, my house, donna’s condo,

i sat in the largesse of her lap

and fondled her tiny red nailed fingers

her amber bracelet

her thin hair

like mine in latter days.

little brother david reclines in his

chair, silent by age seven,

speaks with his polaroid,

the only way he can

view us while alive

my two mommies as i once called them

serve the feast after prayers and handwashing

and hiding of the afikomen

by now we are tired, the brisket and onions

only make me sleepier

i go up to my room for a little nap

and hear the sounds of my family downstairs

unforgettable sounds amid the clatter of

dishes and putting into the dishwasher

the parade of the sparkling clean water

from the one-faucet sink

i hear them all, all the sounds,

the laugher, even now, even now

alone in another room,

forty five years away

as i wait for sleep to come.

Grace and I go for a walk down Cowbell Road

Grace Catherine Deming, b. August 15, 2010

Grace's parents, Dan and Nicole, were inside fixing some glitches on my FB page, so Grace and I stole out the front door for a walk.

She led the way.

This was taken from my car on Easter afternoon. Loads of cars line the street. People no longer dress in their Easter finery. A nice pair of jeans or shorts and a blouse or shirt will do.

She noticed my new white bird bath and was fascinated by the white rocks I put down over by the lamppost. She also said hi to the Buddha.

Here's my house all dressed up for Easter and Passover. Got a head start b/c of my first KidneyVersity on April 1.

So, I hold her hand as we leave home. I've got a couple of big steps she's too small to navigate. It was delightful holding her hand.

She looked at my car in the drive, gave it a pat on the behind, and walked down the sidewalk toward "Uncle Scott's" next door.

She walked slowly and carefully.

Perhaps she remembered the times she fell b/c she was running and got boo-boos on her knees.

Grace is always in an inordinately good mood.

As Grace entered the walkway of Scott's house, the birds scattered from his birdbath. "Buh" she said, pointing.

Earlier she heard the train at the Willow Grove Station and signed "train." Another sign she does is clasping her hands together which means help.

Up the walkway to Scott's we go. A couple of huge pine cones sit on the lawn. I kick one to her. She enjoys kicking it a few times as we approach his door.

He has a small step leading to his front porch.

She successfully climbs the small step, looks at me, turns around, walks back down, and walks back up again.

She does this several times, triumphant in her ability to climb up this pint-sized step.

Her motto: If it's climbable, I'll give it a try. If I can't I'll clasp my hands together for help.

On Scott's front porch is one of those park benches people use at home. It's mine, actually, but it needed fixing, so Scott bought new boards for it and painted the iron sides blue, to match his house.

Grace heads toward it, determined to mount this next challenge.

She grasps the farthest boards and tugs herself onward, lifting up her legs. I give her butt a little push and she's on!

She turns around and sits there like a little lady. I help her climb off.

She heads toward Scott's door but changes her mind. She's gonna go back to the bench.

She accidentally crashes straight into the bench's blue iron railing. Hard.

She laffs hysterically and looks at me. I laff too.

She does it again.

Grace decides to leave and go home. She successfully climbs down the little step, trots along the pathway, when I notice Scott's pink hyacinth off to the left.

"Grace!" I say. "Let's look at the flower."

I pick a stalk of hyacinth

hold it under her nose, and ask her to smell it.

She exhales.

"Doesn't it smell delicious?" I say.

Then she heads home.

I hold her cold hand as we step up my huge porch step and we peek inside the warm house.

"Ma!" she cries and we step inside.

They've only partially fixed the FB page, but I've had one of the greatest moments in my life!

Where was everyone at our Coffeeshop Writer's Group? - Poems: Eating Pistachios on the Front Lawn - Meditation Upon Falling Asleep

Jovon Belcher and Beatriz Moisset and I were the only ones to show up. Linda Barrett dropped off her poem God Walks with Me earlier in the week for us to critique it. Everyone loved it.

Since I write my poems at the last minute I changed it while reading it.

EATING PISTACHIOS ON THE FRONT LAWN

Have one on me. Simply toss the shells with their inner lining
on the grass for the squirrels, the deer, the woodchucks, and the
jealous cawing bluejays. Be sure to thank Mother Sun for warming us all
on this day in April, the birthday of Gramma Lily who
is 120 in her grave. I toss her a particularly
succulent ripe green nut, unsalted, always, for our health.

She liked cottage cheese and mashed prunes, wore beautiful
dresses on her size four body, nothing today but a tiny grinning
hominid relic. A gardener like me she would have loved the
pink bleeding hearts I transplanted, a surgeon in gloves
saving plants, in lieu of grandmothers.

Did she, like me, feel disheartened when the moon didn’t shine
in her lonely widow’s bedroom? Her dresses swinging
silent in her closet?

I spread wide my drapes. Let the full moon’s
glow caress my body as I watch its dappled surface
until sleep captures me unawares, so many sleeps
until I am called to enter the exciting Kingdom
of Forever.


MEDITATION UPON FALLING ASLEEP

Four foot eleven and a half since I was twenty
no shrinkage observed at sixty six
I am the same girl lying down to sleep
but this time I sleep alone.

Alone save for the unseen
bugs and their hidden nests
the flowers on the windowsill
an orange teapot and black rocks
that show me the age of the earth.

My bed is high up
I’m not exactly the Princess and the Pea
but a stepstool would help.
I launch myself onto cool
gray sheets and lie face up
underneath the ceiling fan.

This is this way I experience
myself here on Earth
one among billions
white eyelet quilt pulled up
to my chin
toes pointed
toward Mecca.

In and out I breathe
feeling the sheets
and the quilt
my closed tired eyelids
eyebrows at rest.

The wide blanket of the universe
watches over me, the moon and
the stars and the constellations
billions and billions
all mine for the night.

Mindful too that if I disappear
my granddaughter Grace is too
young to remember her Bubby
and the way she snuggled in my
lap when I read her Goodnight Moon.

Copies to Go! Preparing for my Day trip to Washington, DC

Patronize small businesses! This colorful sign, made by the owner of "Copies to Go" caught my attention when I was driving home from a trial run to Montgomery Mall in Montgomeryville, PA, to Lightpole No. 5 for my Hagey Coach trip to DC to see the cherry blossoms and museums.

Meet Ibrahim Balogun, shop owner. Ibrahim and I had a great talk while he was copying my income tax returns. He told me about one of his bipolar workers who had a manic episode. Ibrahim took great c/o him. The guy decided to go back to Sierra Leone.

Ibrahim also introduced me to the hilariously racist comedian Bill Squire.

Orig. from Nigeria, Ibrahim worked for corporate America and made a nice salary but realized he didn't have enuf time to spend with his wife and five children. So he went into business for himself.

They make all sorts of things: signs, brochures, biz cards. They're located on Moreland Road in Willow Grove, across from Chipotle, I think.

Let's find a nice photo of Nigeria off the web. Ibrahim, a Muslim, said the Christians and Muslims are constantly fighting in Nigeria.

I love the way the minarets look. Unfortunately, in Judaism, we have none. But we do have rounded domes.

Our former temple in Cleveland - Temple on the Heights - now a Masonic Center.