Living with MS, a progressive illness, has forced me to accept sudden changes in life that are not always easy or pleasant to deal with. Accepting and loving myself -- overcoming fear, embarrassment and self-consciousness -- was a significant milestone for me.
Thirty years ago! Scary! Yet inspiring. (Certainly most millennials I encounter are ripping off that era as fast as their iPad-laden hands can grab.) For your pleasure and edification, I was there (and then), and I reflect.
Even if you haven't a clue what it means, Auld Lang Syne evokes an undeniable sentimentality, a disorienting nostalgia, an instantaneous affection for the people around you at that exact moment; loved ones and strangers alike. A New Year stands before you, brimming with possibility.
We feel the losses of television icons in a different way than we do our movie stars, politicians, and newsmakers. Our television hosts tend to be our neighbors, like the late Mister Rogers would sing.
Being 16 years old in Philadelphia in the late 1950s had to be one of the coolest things ever, one of those generational defining moments that separate some of us from the rest of us. At least it was for my older brother.
There are plenty of other cities ringing in 2013 in a truly memorable fashion. We've scoured the globe for hot spots where you won't just be another face in a televised crowd, but where you can really kick off an exciting new year in style.
Publishers Clearing House was founded in 1953 by Harold, LuEsther and Joyce Mertz, during a time when magazines were sold individually by door to door salesman or via a publishers' own direct mail efforts.
"So what band was Paul McCartney in again way back in the '60s?"
Unbridled enthusiasm is a success magnet. While many people of his age were eyeing a rocking chair, Dick was fishing for opportunities.
Two of my life's guideposts, American Bandstand and The Band, drew their last breaths a week ago with the deaths of Dick Clark and Levon Helm. Now the bandstand is less full, the songs less soothing, the beat a little harder to dance to...
We all have these moments in life where we see we're not the person we used to be, or the scene is too big and not as full of passionate brothers-and-sisters-in-arms as it used to be. "Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened."
I am surprised at how sad I have felt since learning of Dick Clark's death.
If Benny Goodman made big band swing jazz acceptable, then Dick Clark is the man who civilized rock and roll. He was the face of the new generation and we were all part of it.
I remember dressing the morning of the show, putting on my snappiest outfit, aware that the TV cameras would probably do head shots of the audience, as they often did in the smaller Philadelphia studio.
Today we mourn the loss of a dog-lover extraordinaire: Dick Clark. He was 574. In dog years.