Tag Archives: Julie Seyler

The Saturday Blog: Head to Head

02 Saturday Feb 2013

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Head to head

By Julie Seyler

It appears that all of us at The Write Side of 50 are neck and neck, and head to head, with ambivalence when it comes to tomorrow’s Super Bowl. Bob will be the life of the party, Anthony may be “fixing” a doorknob, Frank admits to being among the “men who hate the Super Bowl,” Julie has already turned the game into an art project (above), and Lois just loves a good game (and the accompanying party), and will jump on the bandwagon.

It’s Ancient History: What’s New is Old

29 Tuesday Jan 2013

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Left hand of Maitreya, Buddha of the Future ca 550 AD

Left hand of Maitreya, Buddha of the Future ca 550 AD

BY JULIE SEYLER

The Institute for the Study of the Ancient World (ISAW), is a resource center for scholars devoted to documenting and recording a time that existed thousands of years before Facebook. But they also put on exhibits for the curious, like me. If I tell people I am heading off to see a show called “Pagans, Jews, and Christians at Roman Dura-Europos”, of course eyeballs are rolled. But I am endlessly fascinated in the continuities from then to now: that we have always made art; that gold has always been prized; and that grapes have always been fermented into wine. 

Our tradition of adorning ourselves and getting drunk is so old it can never be new. So it is always a pleasure to see an old, old treasure like the pure gold fragment of a plaque embedded with pieces of turquoise that represents a snow leopard from Kazakhstan made about 2800 years ago. A cat of the ancient world that would blend in perfectly at Tiffany’s today.

Photo of a recreated cave from Xiangtangshan, China

Photo of a recreated cave from Xiangtangshan, China

One Saturday afternoon before hip surgery I needed an art pick-me-up, so I dropped by to see ISAW’s latest exhibit called, ” Echoes of the Past: The Buddhist Cave Temple of Xiangtangshan,” which just closed on January 6.  The focus of the show was these earth-carved caves located in northern China near the city of Xiangtangshan. The caves, decorated with beautiful lotus flowers, once housed 20-foot Buddhas, grand bodhisattvas and imaginary monsters sculpted from limestone by unknown artisans sometime between 550 AD, and 577 AD. The monumental Buddhas, with their half-opened eyes and plush lips scream, “benign contentment”.

Staring up at these tranquil giants made me think that the desire to seek a more noble world is timeless. It also made me think that in every culture, in every era man/woman has needed to create art. And sometimes that art has reflected the continuous search for spirituality.

An Off-the-Hip Collage of Passion

24 Thursday Jan 2013

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without passion, by Julie Seyler, May 2012

BY JULIE SEYLER

Can we live without passion?  I don’t think that question ever arose in my 20s, 30s, or 40s. It was a fait accompli based on youth, pheromones and hormones. But during the first half of 2012, at the riper age of 57, when I was dealing with a relentless pain in my left hip, I must admit I started wondering.

I had seen seven doctors, three physical therapists, and two acupuncturists – all of whom had various theories and proposed remedies for my distorted walk and constant ache, but no solutions. My hobbling gait just got worse and worse. I was definitely experiencing the passion of pain, but felt little passion for anything else.

About this time I saw a still of Joel McCrea and Dolores del Rio from the 1932 movie, “Bird of Paradise.” The way they gaze into each other’s eyes screams ardent lust.

And so I had to have some passionate fun making a collage about what it feels like when the only passion you have is feeling the passion of pain.

My Left Side (of 50)

22 Tuesday Jan 2013

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How many lives have we lived?

How many lives have we lived? By Julie Seyler

BY JULIE SEYLER

It’s funny how unaware we are when we start our life journey. There are dreams and hopes and disappointments, and when scanned from the perch of the right side of 50, it can be fascinating to see how many different lives we have experienced by the time we get to this one. And certainly, the annual issuance of W-2 forms makes one contemplate how many jobs we have held.

So when I look back, it was 43 years ago (ye gads) when I got my first job. I was 14, the age when you could get your working papers in New Jersey. My parents insisted that I start earning a living, or at least stop relying on them for my allowance.

a bad photo of the AP Boardwalk looking north from Ocean Ave.

Asbury Park Boardwalk, circa ’70s, looking north from Ocean Ave.

It’s long long gone, but there was a miniscule “restaurant,” if I can even call it that, on the south end of the Asbury Park boardwalk by the Casino called the Maxwell House Coffee Shop. All we served was homemade cinnamon donuts, homemade plain donuts and Maxwell House coffee. We opened at 7 a.m., and closed at 3 p.m. I could, and did, eat all the donuts I wanted. Every morning, and throughout the day, a batch of dough would be whipped up into a thick creamy mass, pushed through a machine, and dropped into a vat of hot oil to be quickly fried and as quickly removed. They were delicious. Dunkin Donuts is a facsimile of the real thing I stuffed my face with for two summers in a row.

Me in waitress outfit for Michael's

Me in waitress outfit for Michael’s

I graduated to other boardwalk joints – 1970s landmarks like the Casino Coffee Shop, Howard Johnson’s (loved the clam strips), and Michael’s Seafood Restaurant. I hate to admit it, but I became a really good waitress. I juggled five, stacked dishes at a time, served them without a crash,  promptly cleared them when everyone finished, and then handed over the check five minutes later. It was all about turnover.

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The Saturday Blog: Red Hot Writers

19 Saturday Jan 2013

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deux computers copy

Photo by Julie Seyler

We like to think of ourselves as red hot and raring to go. Since the blog is two months old today, we plan to celebrate with our Macs, a martini, and a thank-you to our readers for the support, the comments, and for keeping the conversation going.

Love in Your 50s: Fantasy is Out. Wisdom is In. And Then There’s the Fence.

18 Friday Jan 2013

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Do I want In or Out?- by Julie Seyler

Do I Want In or Out? By Julie Seyler

BY JULIE SEYLER

I mean, really, at this point, in our post-50 lives, what else is there to say, except, regardless of gender, whether single or married, each of us has, at least once, if not 50 times, given up on the other sex, rolled our eyes in exasperation and thought, in horrid disgust: “Can (s)he be kidding?”

Conversely, I bet it is equally true, that there has been at least once, if not 5000 times, that you have thought: “How could I even consider living with(out) him/her in my life?”

And therein lies the rub and the cliche: “You can’t live with them, and you can’t live without them.”

I do not believe there is a solution to this dilemma. Rather, I think one wises up, looks inside, and decides for a variety of reasons: “I am going to hang in there.” Or: “It’s time to move on.”

I know people on both sides of the fence, and some people who seem to be simply straddling the fence, not happy to be in, but too worried and/or stressed about money to move on.

In either case, relationships are not for the weak of heart. They require work and kindness and consideration and empathy and flexibility – not to mention the ability to get angry and withstand anger. The irony is, the thing you get angry over, is the same thing you got angry about last year, and the year before, and the year before that. We are creatures of habit, and I guess in some perverse way, we prefer picking a standard fight to muddle through.

And this brings to mind this new book I read about. It’s called “How To Think More About Sex,” by Alain de Botton. With respect to the vows of love we declare, the author proposes a new pledge:

“I promise to be disappointed by you and you alone. I promise to make you the sole repository of my regrets, rather than distribute them widely through multiple affairs and a life of sexual Don Juanism. I have surveyed the different options for unhappiness, and it is you I have chosen to commit myself to.”

I thought that was sort of a brilliant take on the earthiness of the dyadic dance.

So then one wonders if it’s better to be with someone or not? I guess it’s an individual choice and perhaps with the wisdom that comes with being on the right side of 50, we make those choices with self-awareness rather than fantasy – unless you’re stuck straddling the fence.

How I Handled a Horrific Headline: A Little Prep, Some Positive, Then a Poll

16 Wednesday Jan 2013

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Painting by Julie Seyler

“Implosion.” Painting by Julie Seyler.

BY JULIE SEYLER

I go through stages of reading the front section of The New York Times. I find I need to prep myself before I can delve into how the world is fracturing into a thousand little pieces. Once I’m ready, I plunge into the horror show – ready for the one-two punch of being weighed down by the oppressive facts that constitute modern day living, and frustrated by the endless non-answers. However, at least I don’t feel as if I am a complete ostrich with my head stuck in the sand. After I have been brought up to date on the latest wars, murders and irresolvable Congressional disagreements, I retreat and concentrate on the stuff that makes life worth enjoying – movies, books, art, restaurant reviews and recipes. I may have a love-hate relationship with food, but I love reading about it.

On Tuesday, January 8, 2013, I was in the mood to see what’s going on “over there.” The front page of The Times delivered, with the headline “Hints of Syrian Chemical Push Set off Global Effort to Stop It”. This was the opening paragraph:

In the last days of November, Israel’s top military commanders called the Pentagon to discuss troubling intelligence that was showing up on satellite imagery: Syrian troops appeared to be mixing chemicals at two storage sites, probably the deadly nerve gas sarin, and filling dozens of 500-pounds bombs that could be loaded on airplanes.

The article went onto discuss how the near catastrophe of easily distributed killer gas was averted. Countries that usually prefer to stab each other in the back (China, Russia, the Middle East and the United States), in a rare show of cooperation, were in synchronicity that chemical warfare is bad for all of us. Hallelujah for common sense! The article explained that there are actually several factors that need to be in place for a successful dispersion of sarin gas. Therefore, a chemical attack may not necessarily be the easiest way to obliterate the planet. And of course, the denouement of the piece consisted of the pundits warning that just because disaster was avoided this time, doesn’t mean it can’t or won’t happen. Those munitions are still out there, and ready to be used, depending on who gets their hands on them.

I was frightened. I guess that was the purpose of the story, and decided to check in with some of the guys at work to see what they thought. One friend scoffed at chemical weapons, since they can only do damage to thousands of people. On the other hand, take a nuclear weapon – now that can wipe out millions in a second. His biggest concern: Pakistan.

Another guy was much more benign. He figures if a nuclear weapon drops on his sector of the universe he won’t have time to think about it. It will be over, and that will be that. Why worry about it? I said, “But what if you survive? And it’s like the movie On the Beach?” You know that great 1959 movie with Ava Gardner, Gregory Peck, Fred Astaire and Anthony Perkins about the end of the world? Well, he figures he’d find a bridge to jump off of. Geez Louise.

We never even got into the topic of biological weapons. Anybody care to weigh in?

Were Those Yellow Pants Hot as Venus? Or Cold as Mars?

14 Monday Jan 2013

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which

Which side is real? Painting by Julie Seyler

BY JULIE SEYLER

I received an e-mail the other day from an attorney. He had been opposing counsel in a case that we had settled about three years ago. His reply was in response to a message I had left on his voicemail concerning a completely new matter. We hadn’t spoken in the three years since the other case closed, but his e-mail said, in part: “How can I forget those yellow smoking hot pants!!!” “The sexiest … attorney at … ”

The hot pants were a pair of jeans, not “hot pants”. As background, during the long negotiations we had had a meeting at a crowded business function. The day we met I happened to be wearing jeans that were yellow colored. Amongst a sea of navy suits, pastel yellow stands out and we had joked about it. Anyway when I received the email I was a bit shocked, but not outraged. Really we had laughed about those yellow colored jeans. But, what made me not cast the email banter aside was a conversation I had had with my colleague, “Q.” He led me to see the vignette from an entirely different point of view.

When I told “Q” the anecdote, his first question was, “What did you say on the voice mail?”

“Nothing. My message simply said, ‘Hi, it’s Julie, remember with the yellow pants?'”

“Q” rolled his eyes and shook his head, “You made the first move.”

Huh??? I did not see myself as being at all provocative, but I listened. “Q” was giving me insight into the male psyche. He was helping me to “see” how men “see,” confirming the over-used adage that men are from Mars, and women from Venus. He was telling me that my use of the innocent phrase, “yellow pants,” could be interpreted as alluring; flirtatious. I would love to know what other men and women think, because my boyfriend, Steve, absolutely agreed with “Q”, whereas a female colleague’s eyes popped out in horror when I told her the story. Her immediate reaction was “How dare he!”

And that’s why this thumbnail sketch of male/female interaction is so intriguing. “Q”’s perception, and Steve’s concurrence certainly made me question whether I had (un)consciously sought an acknowledgment as to how I looked. It also led me to wonder whether men read very well, the little movements we make to (not) attract attention. Is it possible that they see right through us? Are women more naive than we like to believe?

And as for my reaction to the comment from the attorney about those “hot smoking pants?” It’s a snapshot of time travel.  In the ’70s when I was in my teens and a rampant and ardent worshiper of Gloria Steinem, I probably would have taken umbrage. Today, at 57, I am embarrassed to admit that what actually entered my mind when I received that e-mail was: “Would he still think that I was “sexy” three years later?” Geez how shallow and vain can you get?

The Saturday Blog: Oblivious

12 Saturday Jan 2013

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Sleeping at the flea market, Sunday afternoon. Photo by Julie Seyler

Sleeping at the flea market, Sunday afternoon. Photo by Julie Seyler

These days, it seems that the ability to immerse in undeterred obliviousness has seeped out of the routine, perhaps never to return, or only to return later in life, when we will most seek energy. In any case, we envy this man’s relaxation.

It All Started with an Abused Chicken

10 Thursday Jan 2013

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P1130118

Drawing by Julie Seyler.

BY JULIE SEYLER

Around April 2012, I was having dinner with a friend at a Thai restaurant, and was pretty excited about ordering some Chicken Pad Thai, you know those yummy rice noodles laced with chicken, a little egg and some peanuts. I asked her what she was having. She has some food quirks and rules, but was never averse to meat. This time though, instead of a beef or chicken curry, she went with something vegetarian. And as she was telling me what she was ordering, I can only describe the look she gave me as enigmatic – basically begging me to ask what was up.

“You’re off meat these days?” I asked.

“Well, I’m reading this book, and if you read it you’d be off it also.”

“Please don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. I have enough concerns. I don’t want to take on the animals!”

“I won’t,” she said.

And with that, I ordered my Chicken Pad Thai, and asked her, “So what else is new?” But of course, the pink elephant was on the table. And as much as my sensible inner voice screamed, “Don’t ask!” my curiosity of the secret knowledge that my girlfriend possessed was 10 times greater, and before that plate of sauteed chicken with slithering noodles was placed in front of me, I had to ask, “OK. OK. Tell me about the book.”

She was in the middle of Jonathan Safran Foer’s book “Eating Animals.” She regaled me with how the chicken industry treats chickens – how they fatten them up with steroids, and stuff them into 2″x4” windowless cages.

“But what about kosher chickens?”

“Worse!”

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