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The Write Side of 59

~ This is What Happens When You Begin to Age Out of Middle Age

The Write Side of 59

Search results for: juLIE SEYLER

An Affair to Always Remember: Me and the Ocean!

10 Monday Aug 2015

Posted by WS50 in Confessional

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Tags

beach, ocean, Swimming

image

BY JULIE SEYLER

Saturday, August 1 and Sunday August 9, 2015 were primo ocean days at the Jersey Shore and maybe all along the eastern seaboard. Wave intensity, water clarity, and a crisp but not icy sea temperature united to make for endless frolicking in the ocean. The waves rolled, pounded and crashed to the shore. I dove in, again and again, always trying to avoid those annoying boogie boarders. But if I didn’t manage to dive in at exactly the right moment, I was tumbled and tossed and somersaulted to the shore. I loved it, despite the fact that I acquired a few black and blue marks from the aquatic twirl.

And therein lies the rub.

As I move farther and farther from the right side of 59, I know my days of being able to take on an ocean of that vitality and volatility are numbered.  Probably not next year, or even the year after that, but at some point between 62 and 70, I will need to be wise and stand aside for a calmer sea.

Even now I know that on rough ocean days I am not the person I was when I was young, (and I mean young like 56).  I am aware of a slight difference in my durability to go one on one with a mighty wave and it bums me out because it will be one more fun thing (like partying till 3 am and then going out for breakfast) that will bite the dust.  Ok I may, under certain occasions be able to make it until 3 am, but I’m not going to a diner for eggs when the night is over.

With the ocean, I just have to recognize that one day I will be standing on the shore while others plunge in on those primo days. So for now every dive is cherished and placed in the memory basket to be hauled out when I’m 90 and tell stories about back in the day.

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Hip Joint, Ornery Bartender

27 Monday Jul 2015

Posted by WS50 in Confessional

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Bar etiquette, Julie Seyler, Santina

Elixirs on the bar at Santina.

Elixirs on the bar at Santina.

BY JULIE SEYLER

I went out with two friends for a schmooz and a cocktail after work last Thursday. We met at one of the latest of the super hip joints that is contributing to the transformation of what was once a district devoted to raw meat and butchers to one that is still devoted to raw meat- just the classier type of beautiful men and women all perfectly manicured and decked to charm and slay.

We were lucky because having scored corner seats at the bar, we were impervious to the continuous jostle of bodies seeking position. We had a round of drinks and I was in the mood for a glass of a dry white wine.

I looked up to beckon the bartender and saw that he was just finishing with a customer, and as he turned in my direction he started a conversation with his co-worker bartender. They chatted, and when he again looked at me I hand-signaled to please come here. He sauntered over, stared me in the eyes and said

Do Not Wave At Me!

I smiled at the brilliant absurdity. Here I was asking for a drink from a bartender and I was being reprimanded because I “asked” with my hands. So it was logical to inquire what was the proper protocol in a situation like this. The mighty Oz speaketh:

You should say “Excuse me”, and when I have a minute I will come and attend to you.

Here lies the lesson: the privilege of paying $14 for a mini-pour does not guarantee the privilege of actually being a guest of the bar. And to think the only rule I learned was never throw an olive at a bartender’s head.

As yet, it remains possible to find down-to-earth bars scattered throughout the city, but with Manhattan’s ever evolving spin into a glass dome for the super rich, I do not know how long that will hold true.

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An Unexpected Perk to Being Right of 59

21 Tuesday Jul 2015

Posted by WS50 in Concepts, Confessional

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Happy hour, Julie Seyler, Salvation Taco

Salvation Taco Rooftop Bar

Salvation Taco Rooftop Bar

BY JULIE SEYLER

Last Friday night, my way-left-of-59 office buddy and I headed over to Salvation Taco on East 39th Street for an after work cocktail. We had been there once before when she had taken me out for a pre-wedding fete. That night it had been pouring rain so we skipped the rooftop bar. But last Friday evening was exquisite. Drinking a chilled and salted margarita at a facsimile of a Mexican patio high above the streets of Manhattan was enticing.

We arrived and saw a line of Raybanned millennials hanging about the entrance and a hostess taking names.  We bypassed the crowd and walked through the glass doors to the elevator.

There was a sign posted “See Hostess for Rooftop Bar.”

We looked at each other and got in the elevator and emerged to see the cloudless blue 6:00 sky and started to head in. We were stopped by a bouncer.

“Let me see your stamp”.

“What stamp?”

“The stamp you get downstairs from the hostess to come up to the rooftop bar. You have to go back down and get stamped.”

We really did not have the time to trek back down to the ground floor, wait on line and then wait to go up. So I did the next best thing. I looked that bouncer straight in her unwrinkled eye and said sweetly,

Look, I’m old. Please let us in?

She saw there was some truth to that statement and kindly replied

Go on in.

That margarita tasted sooo piquantly delicious because being almost 60 had delivered an unexpected perk: entrance into an overpacked happy hour.

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Potatoes Redux

13 Monday Jul 2015

Posted by WS50 in Food

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Tags

Julie Seyler, Potatoes

POtato displayBY JULIE SEYLER

On April 20, 2013, Lo and I made plans to buy a variety of potatoes and cook them and write about them. We did.

I just came across the pictures I took that day (April 20, 2013), attempting to capture the lushness of the color, the pleasure in the arrangement, the curiosity about the taste.

We paired them with sprigs of fresh rosemary:

purple potatoes and rosemary

and garlic chives:

Chive potatoes garlic chives 1

Glazed them with olive oil, roasted them for two hours at 400 degrees, and returned to glistening pans of roasted red, purple and white potatoes.
Potatoes cooked 2 Yummy.

It only took about 4 days for Lo, Steve and me to consume all 25 potatoes.

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Detroit was a Hit!

06 Monday Jul 2015

Posted by WS50 in Art, Entertainment, Travel

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Clifford Bell's. Coney Island Hot Dogs, Detroit, Detroit institute of Art, Diego Rivera, Guardian Building, Penobscot Building, Slo's Barbecue

Hitsville USA Detroit. 2.28.15

Hitsville USA Detroit. 2.28.15

BY JULIE SEYLER

Exactly four months before the wedding day, Lois and I boarded a plane to Detroit, Michigan. Despite being repeatedly peppered with “Who goes to Detroit?” and “Why go to Detroit?” and “You are going to Detroit, in the dead of winter? We never wavered. Detroit beckoned.

We knew this was the perfect trip, and I say this even though we were stranded in the Detroit airport for 8 hours and ended up having to overnight, un-comped, at the Westin Hotel due to a nor’easter. No matter, we went swimming in our underwear while the storm raged on.

After a swim at the Westin at the Detroit Airport. 3.1.15

After a swim at the Westin at the Detroit Airport. 3.1.15

And we met lots of interesting people because endless hours at an airport leads to bonding amongst strangers. But prior thereto, Detroit packed a wallop.

There is so much to see and do. Saturday morning we had a Coney Island Chili Dog at American Coney Island.

Breakfast of champions.

Breakfast of champions.

The waiter had no idea that there was an actual place called Coney Island which put hot dogs on the map.

We walked down Woodward Avenue studded with grand old 19th century churches past the stadium that houses the Detroit Tigers and into the The Detroit Institute of Arts. A keen kin to the National Gallery of Art and the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I discovered Pieter Brueghel the Elder’s “The Wedding Dance,” painted in 1566. It was a harbinger of my June nuptials and screamed a wedding is a party where lust and love are offered and accepted in the most bawdy of fashion.

The Wedding Dance. 1566

The Wedding Dance. 1566

We also got a chance to see Diego Rivera’s Detroit Industry murals. They were a motivating reason to come to Detroit because the murals he had planned for Rockefeller Center were felled by public outcry. But in Detroit, we had an opportunity to see the intact in situ Detroit Industry murals, a visual panorama of the pros and cons of industry, where both management and workers are represented.

Detroit Industry

P1300030

After a delicious lunch and a thorough scouring of the museum shop, we taxied over to the house where Berry Gordy founded Motown.

 

 

I found the Motown tour a little thin, but it was totally cool to see the recording studio where the Temptations, Supremes, Four Tops, Stevie Wonder etc. congregated and made gold records.

We had cocktail hour at a 1930’s speakeasy — Cliff Bell’s — and barbecue at Slow’s. And defnitely one needs an Uber app to trek around Detroit at night.

On Sunday, we were heading out at 12:00 for our 2:00 flight back to Newark, but we had heard that the Guardian Building is a must see architectural gem. It’s one of many skyscrapers that epitomize Detroit’s status as a leader of commerce and instury at the beginning of the 20th century. It’s where the automobile was born.

The Guardian was built by Wirt C. Rowland and its purpose was to celebrate the world of finance. It’s open for viewing every day and it’s free. It was worth the trip to Detroit. And for those who stand in awe of the Chrysler building, which is fabulous, the Guardian Building has a bit more over the top deco-ishness.

Interior of the Guardian Building.

Interior of the Guardian Building.

One of 5 remaining original Tiffany clocks inside the Guardian Building.

One of 5 remaining original Tiffany clocks inside the Guardian Building.

We capped the morning with scrambled eggs and bloodies at The Dime Store and were on our way to the airport right on schedule where the weather intervened.

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Thank you …

02 Thursday Jul 2015

Posted by WS50 in Confessional

≈ 3 Comments

“The calla lilies are in bloom.” Courtesy of Sunset Flowers.

BY JULIE SEYLER

This post is dedicated to Lois, who is way more than just a party girl. Anyone who reads her, feels her compassion, joie de vivre, and savvy perception of the peculiarities and charms of daily living. She captured the evening of June 27 in less than 1000 words, and created a gift that will last forever in my heart. Lola, thank you so much! We need a martini date!

And to everyone who commented and shared Lo’s post on social media, thanks.

Me, with my disdainful attitude toward social media, is having an intimate dance with Facebook. Don’t ask me why but, I say let it rip because I am loving my 15 minutes of fame.

I wonder why? Perhaps it’s something as simple as I feel safe. There is someone to watch over me…

I also want to thank:

Lucy for dreaming about a red shoe shower:

Red shoe shower.

Red shoe shower.

John, our pianist, who recorded the most beautiful rendition of the Satie waltz, “Je Te Veux.”

Pat and Bill for making our brunch a success despite the MIA caterer.

Ali and Bill for much needed pots and pans, AND for providing all that yummy Blanc de Blanc!

Jen my office mate, who despite pressing and urgent legal matters, found time to review shoe, jewelry and Spanx options with me.

Deb, who always kicks in to gear and saves the day.

Laurs for being my flower consultant, vase consultant, wedding dress consultant, rearranger of unwanted pockets of fat and all-around support system on EVERY thing:

Laurs practices the bustle

Marianne for being Marianne, and everyone who knows her knows what I mean. She is gracious, and kind; thoughtful and organized. She loves laughter, and loves to laugh, and always brings joy to the table.

Anita because she is my mom, and was a perfect mom through wedding planning.

Naomi because of her pragmatism and thoughtfulness. She made the appointment at David’s Bridal that led to finally securing a dress to wear.

Linda for my gorgeous flowers.

To my father — I think every girl has a secret wish that her Dad will walk her down the aisle.
Dad and me

xo to everyone.

Julie

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I’m James Brown in the Morning

23 Monday Feb 2015

Posted by WS50 in Confessional

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Tags

Chelsea Piers, I Feel Good!, James Brown, Swimming

image

BY JULIE SEYLER

This is my personal concert hall.

Every morning that I emerge from the swimming pool,

swimming pool(and isn’t that one inviting pool?), I belt out “I Feel Good” by James Brown and dance around the shower stall.

Through my 20s, when I swam 6 days a week, and my 30s, when I clipped a day; all through my 40s, when again another day was shaved off and now in my 50s where it seems I only make it into the pool 3 days a week, I have sung “I feel good dah dah dah dah dah” as the chlorine is washed away. I feel a little smug and very satisfied because my laps are over with and I deserve breakfast. In the old days I treated myself to a bagel and melted cheddar cheese, but with age and creeping glucose levels, I try to get excited about oatmeal or yogurt.

And as I approach my 60s, my resolution is to maintain the 3-day a week regimen for forever. Swimming has sustained me through thick and thin, love and loss, angst and subliminity. How could I ever give up something that makes me feel so good?

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When Gender Made a Difference. And Then Didn’t

12 Thursday Feb 2015

Posted by WS50 in Opinion

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Tags

Bonuses, GM, Mary Barra

A woman with authority

A woman with authority.

BY JULIE SEYLER

On top of the $2000 yearly bonus guaranteed G.M. union workers by their contract, Mary T. Barra, the CEO of the company, approved an extra $9000 as a message that said G.M. acknowledges that management, not the workers, were responsible for the ignition mistakes that led to driver deaths.

I said to Steve, “I do not believe any male CEO would do that.”

And Steve said, “I agree.”

I don’t know if our perception is accurate, but it is interesting that our gender differences didn’t come in to play and we both acknowledged Barra’s ability to see the big picture and subsequently make, in our opinion, a compassionate executive decision.

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When My Words Collided With Björk’s

06 Friday Feb 2015

Posted by WS50 in Confessional

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Björk, BuzzFeed, confessional, Journal.ie, Lois DeSocio, New York Times, The Write Side of 50, Vulnicura

I cry to my left; I dance to my right

“I Cry to My Left; I Dance to My Right.” Watercolor by Julie Seyler.

BY LOIS DESOCIO

Björk and me. As polar-opposite as Iceland and New Jersey. She’s a brilliant musician. I’m a brilliant … hmm. (I can’t recall being called “brilliant.”) She’s an international “queen.”

I’m a “Jersey Girl.”

She can write music like nobody else.

I listen to music — like everybody else.

She can sing.

I carry a tune by plugging myself into my phone and toting the music in me along with me, through dancing, from room to room.

But we do have a parallel. We both recently wrote about betrayal and a breakup. And in keeping with the disparity in our places in the universe — I wrote an essay. She wrote a best-selling, breakthrough album, out of which a MoMA exhibit will spring.

We are dead-on, though, with our innate use of a creative outlet to mine through life events that are coated with agony. Agony that words can’t recount. Until you find the words. We both found the words. We both wrote the words. And, in her big way, and in my little way, our written words hit a collective nerve.

A few days after Julie told me I had to read The New York Times’ article by Jon Pareles, “Sometimes Heartbreak Takes a Hostage,” a review of Björk’s “complete heartbreak” album “Vulnicura,” another friend sent me a link to the Web site Journal.ie, which ranked my BuzzFeed essay as last week’s number-three best read on the Web.

Number one was an interview with Björk about “Vulnicura.”

Cool. So I threw myself into everything Björk. I read what I could find. I bought and repeatedly listened to “Vulnicura.”

I feel her words — both in her music and in her interviews about her album and the process of creating it. The words were mine, but hers. For both of us, moving through betrayal and “the death of the family,” was for me, as was for her “the toughest thing I’ve ever done.”

For both of us it took years to write about it and muster the nerve to put it out in the world. We both wrapped our articulation around the arc of a timeline. We both had a run-in with the magic of karma. And we both came through liberated.

I relate to her metaphors: “You feel like you’re having open-heart surgery, with knives sticking in, so everything is out, and you have this urgency and immediacy. It has to happen right now, that you have to express yourself.”

And her letting-go: “She hopped out of the D.J. booth to dance on the pool table, rolling across it like something in a vintage MTV video. Around midnight, she led her flock to Prikid, a packed hip-hop club, where she danced nonstop, sang along and downed shots of birch schnapps until nearly 4 a.m,” wrote Pareles. (I would have been there, on the pool table, had I been there.)

When I write, I listen to music. I have a stable of songs that I draw from. They range from opera to ’60s pop melodies. I pick the song that moves me along with my writing. I click “repeat” and it plays over and over and over for hours. I blast it. It takes over my head and let’s nothing in but me. Rarely, do the words come to mind without music in my ears.

Sometimes I need violins. Sometimes I need a rousing choir. Sometimes I need Roy Orbison. Sometimes a voice hits me out of nowhere. (B.J. Thomas!?)

But for this piece, I needed Björk and “Vulnicura.” Specifically “Black Lake.”

So while I was formerly more in awe of pieces of Björk (yes, her swan dress, her avant-garde-ness), I am now a forever-fan of all of her. I hear her now.

Me and Björk. We were on the same page. The Icelandic queen and the Jersey girl — scribes of the separation; chroniclers of catharsis. All-consuming, heart-breaking, gut-purging, pool-table-dancing, shot-drinking reclaimers of us.

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A Church-Loving Tourist: This Time in Paris

05 Thursday Feb 2015

Posted by WS50 in Art, Travel

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Art, churches, Notre Dame, Paris, Ste. Germain des Pres, Ste. Suplice, The Write Side of 50, Travel

North facade of Notre Dame Cathedral. Late afternoon .

North facade of Notre Dame Cathedral. Late afternoon.

BY JULIE SEYLER

Wherever I go, churches are on the top of my to-see list. They offer up beauty (free), in peaceful and spirital surroundings. Usually there is silence.

Eglise de Sainte-Germaine des Pres.

Eglise de Sainte-Germaine des Pres.

I am not incognizant that these temples to God were built by the David Kochs of the medieval world on the backs of the anguished. But the politics and sociology must be weighed alongside the art.

Yes, the subject matter is one note: the life of Jesus Christ, his journey from birth to death, his apostles and the prophets, sinners and saints that bring life to the Old and New Testaments. But they have been painted and sculpted by the greatest artists of all time — Michelangelo, Caravaggio, Donatello. And they are in situ, placed in niches and on walls in the exact same space and place as when made and hung.

Statue of the Virgin, 13th c. Ste. Germaine des Pres

Statue of the Virgin, 13th c. Ste. Germaine des Pres.

Churches are also more than repositories of religious history. The floors, the pews. The altars and flying buttresses. The steeples. The stained glass windows. The gargoyles tell us what the world used to be like; what people used to believe. And hat they were afraid of, what they strived for, and it’s not far from what we seek today.

The Church was also the social media center from let’s say the 13th century through to the 19th century. Whatever. There is always somehting to look at, and always more to see. These are some of the churches I visited when I was in Paris last October:

Ste. Suplice Church on Rue Ste. Surplice, 6th arrondisement.

Admiring the view

Admiring the view.

Noticing the mid-afternoon light.

Noticing the mid-afternoon light.

The windows are huge.

The windows are huge.

What the windows look outside. Exterior of Saint Germain des Pres.

What the windows look outside. Exterior of Saint Germain des Pres.

Ste. Etienne-du-Mont.

Check out the detail on the staircase.

Check out the detail on the mahogany staircase.

Statue and window.

Statue and window.

Notre Dame

Stained glass window,

Stained glass window,

Gargoyles

Gargoyles

Montmarte

Looking up at Montmartre.

Looking up at Montmartre.

Looking at Montmartre from the Musee D'Orsay.

Looking at Montmartre from the Musee D’Orsay.

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