Carlos Garcia aka New York Boy

When I was in my early twenties, my sister was working on her doctorate at NYU. She lived in Greenwich Village right near Washington Square Park, at the corner of Bleeker and McDougal Streets.

She lived in NYC for about a decade, and while most of her apartments were the size of a cracker box, it was the best vacation destination ever. Location, location, location.

On this particular visit, I was with my friend Laura. We had a friend that lived in Brooklyn, so we were shuttling back and forth between his place and my sisters. One evening, we met my sister at St. Mark's.

St. Mark's is a street in the middle of the Village. It's kinda touristy yet funky good. The streets are lined with tons of little shops, restaurants, and street vendors. Laura, Beth and I were there strolling along and we saw this REALLY hot guy reading tarot cards for a couple of bucks. What does a gurl do when there's a hot guy giving card readings? Why, hell yes, she gets her cards read!

Let me try to do Carlos justice in my description. His skin was the color of caramel, he's wasn't thin and he wasn't fat, just beefy. He had the kind of soulful eyes that made you want to save him and be saved by him, all at the same time. He smelt the way the air smells right after it rains, with a hint of testosterone. And then he called me "mamacieta"

The only thing I remember about the reading was my sister standing behind me whispering "go back to school, go back to school" like she was the cards talking.

Laura and I agreed to meet him at a club later that night. We ended up spending the next 10 hours with him and his friend, just clubbing, and chatting and running around Manhattan. It was one of the funnest nights of my life. Carlos had lived in NYC all his life so he knew the insiders tour.

Finally, at like 7 a.m., they rode the subway with us back to Brooklyn. After exchanging phone numbers and addresses, Carlos and I had a very long goodbye. There was love in the air!

Unfortunately, Laura and I had to get on a plane home a mere three hours later. Ain't that how it always goes? Don't worry, it wasn't the last time I saw Carlos.

Carlos is a writer. He uses the alias Micheal Dantilleon, because, he said, "Carlos Garcia is Spanish for Joe Smith", but I'll tell you all about that later. I have the most incredible collection of love letters he wrote to me over the years. Perhaps, at some point, I will open the memory vault and share some with you.

Amy Winehouse and the Twenty Seven Club

When I mentioned to RWC that Amy Winehouse had died, at the tender age of 27, the first thing he said was "Oh, she's joined the 27 Club."

"The 27 Club?" I ask

"Yes." RWC says, "It's a group of famous musicians who died under suspicious circumstances. The phrase "27 Club" was coined in reference to Jimi Hendrix, Brian Jones, Janis Joplin, Kurt Cobain, and Jim Morrison, all dead at 27. "

"An auspicious membership indeed." I reply

"Well", apparently 27 is some kind of cut off for musicians.  If you make it to 28, you're good to go.  Take Keith Richards for instance." he laughs.

Below is a video of Amy singing my favorite song "Tears Dry on Their Own" live.  The video was made in 2007, and the life is still in her eye's.  It's the way I want to remember her.  Full of piss and vigor.  RIP sweet Amy Winehouse.

Intuition, Sympathy Addiction, and Defining Moments

The other day, Dahmi and I got to talking about her summer vacation.  The conversation took some interesting turns.


"I called my sister in law on the phone," Dahmi tells me, "two days before I went to South Carolina to visit her and my brother and told her that I was worried about the kids and the pool.  I wanted assurance that they couldn't get outside in the early morning hours or at night and drown.  I was obsessed with something happening to one of the kids.  When I got down there, I got up three or four time a night to make sure they were okay."

"Billy and Autumn were also going to visit my brother and family,  so...I was obsessed with something happening to one of them.The very day that I got there, Billy fell out of the tree house while I was washing dishes, looking out at the pool from the kitchen window.  

Leah was no where around, per usual.  Bryan, Jim's son, scooped Billy up from the ground and I ran over to him.  Bryan put Billy in my arms. When I had him in my arms, he went limp, turned gray and his eyes rolled back.

I thought I was losing another grandson.

I yelled for them to call 911 and put Billy on the porch in a flat position, keeping his head and back from moving.  He was crying that his back hurt. Thank god he was with me at that time.  Leah comes walking out and in an irritated voice says…"what the hell is going on?".  The ambulance arrives, they strap him to a board with collar on and take him to emergency to get xrays and scans.


Thank God he's fine.  But the whole thing triggered something in me that's been hiding since we lost our Little Man.

After they left I completely fell apart. I have never fallen apart like that in my life.  I couldn't even hold myself up."

I ask Dahmi, "What was it like?  I mean, completely falling apart.  Was it cathartic at all?"

"Not a comfortable thing I can tell you that.", Dahmi answers,   "No.  It made me feel like a freak, but like a human freak for once.  know what I mean?"

"I always have to be the strong one, and true to form, Jim," who is Dahmi's life partner, " did not let me fall apart.  What I mean is...my legs weren't supporting my weight anymore, I was shaking and some weird noise was coming out of my mouth and I felt like I was going to pass out, and then Jim says  "Get it together..Autumn needs you", and I pulled it together."

"You know,  Leah has treated me like shit ever since.  She seemed more into getting sympathy from the whole thing."  she finishes.

"Yeah, that shit can get addictive." I tell Dahmi.

"Sympathy?" Dahmi asks.

"Hell yeah, I realized it when I had cancer." I say

"Really?" Dahmi asks me incredulously, almost shocked. 

"Absolutely."

"That's interesting." Dahmi says reflecting on what I just told her.

"Yup." I tell her.  "I always felt invisible, and when I was sick, everybody was sooooo nice to me.  On the other hand, it was miserable and totally not worth it but I still thought about it."

Dahmi looks at me and says "Yeah, it's nice for people to care, but then you have this label.  Like, I'm the grandma who lost her grandson.  You're the lady who had cancer."

"Yes, I know"

"I think I would rather be invisible." Dahmi says

"And," I add, "if you knew me earlier, I was also the little girl with the dead father and crazy mother."

"Sure...and I was the girl who got pregnant at 17." 

"Exactly!", I proclaim, "Everybody has defining moments."

"I'd say...some not so great." 

"Well, what would be the fun in that?" I ask Dahmi,  "We'd all be stagnant."

"Oh yeah!" Dahmi remembers, "My point to the story was that I knew something was wrong but I was so off base. I focused on that pool."

"Well, you were still right there with your radar on.  It made a huge difference." I tell her

"Well, I didn't stop it from happening. And guess what?  One of the puppies drowned in the pool in the early morning hours.  It was the puppy that my mom wanted me to bring home." Dahmi replies

"WOW, that's crazy!", I say "It distracted you, the puppy threw off your magnificent radar."

"I guess so...probably because the puppy was wrapped up in my Mom's emotions.  I brought a different puppy home for her.  I didn't tell her that hers drowned." she says, "I just couldn't.  Needless to say, it was a pretty stressful vacation."