Me, 1973
Fresh out of college
A summertime of watching Watergate,sex,drugs androck n'roll

I blinked my eyes, and I am fifty-nine years old.

Just when being a "nice" woman, a "nice" friend, a "nice" wife was gettin' ready to lay me flat- I saw how the rage in me was gonna tear my insides out if I didn't pay it some attention.

The farther I got away from my true self the angrier I got.


I watched grown-up women long and hard when I was a teen. I saw what a woman's life could be like if she did not have grit.
I saw what a woman's life could be life if she devoted it all to a man.
I saw what a woman's life could be like if she could not support herself financially.

It was not a pretty sight. And I wanted no part of it.

Mama had taught me by example- a bad example for sure, but one that I learned real well- perhaps too well, but that in itself is another story.

Life sort of hijacked me along the way. Time and its trials has a way of doin' just that.

Before I knew it I was pushin' sixty, and I was a pale vision of my former self.

What had become of that feisty girl riding on her purple racer at fourteen?

What had become of that young woman who was so full of vim, vigor and rebellion?

Where did the girl go who dreamed of writing a book?

And why in hell was I not dancing my ass off more like I used to?

This is my story.

The year was 1974. I was living alone in my first apartment which was actually the bottom of a big old house. Funky it was with its window shaker air conditioner, the mushrooms that grew behind the toilet due to the Florida humidity and the green shag carpet which smelled like mildew, but it was mine.

It was here that I discovered the music of Dory Previn.

A song I never forgot. The fact that I, too, am left-handed is mere coincidence. I just really dug this song. And it speaks volumes to me even today.