I used to watch a fair amount of programs on HGTV. I was one of those early viewers who was thrilled that there was a channel about decorating, houses and gardens. There were certain programs I tuned into fairly regularly: hosted by Lynette Jennings, Joan Steffend, Joe Ruggiero, Mary Emmerling, Carol Duvall, Kitty Bartholomew.

Would any of these talented people get the opportunity to host a show on HGTV nowadays? Doubtful. Why not? They’re not young and beautiful. Every time I tune in, and I tune in a bit more often here because I’m searching for something to watch on TV, all I see are a series of impossibly beautiful young hosts. What happened to experience gained from a career of some length? What happened to wisdom? Oh it’s out there, but not apparently as a marketable commodity for HGTV.

When did America get so obsessed with youth? You see it everywhere. News anchors for major news networks are often a series of young, perfectly coifed, almost Stepford-like women. Do I want to hear the news from someone that young, someone who has no frame of reference with which to see a larger picture? Do I want to watch yet another television series that has 4 young beautiful actors pretending to be seasoned FBI agents – or doctors – or CSI technicians – or FBI Profilers – or lawyers? Come on. The minute I tune into one of those series, I groan and switch channels. How can I even pretend to lose myself in one of those stories? How can I suspend disbelief? Answer: I can’t. So I don’t watch.

Don and I were watching All in the Family (one of the greatest television series of all time) on TV Land recently and were struck by the level of excellence, the nuanced acting and the fact that both lead actors (Carroll O’Connor and Jean Stapleton) in the series were middle aged at the time. Neither of them had Botox, cheek implants, a face lift, bleached and straightened teeth or fake tans. What they did have was talent – something sadly lacking on television these days. They also had faces that were interesting – that showed that they had lived. Would this series have been given the green light today? Not a chance. It would have been reworked around a young, cute couple who moved into Queens to rehab a house and maybe had some wacky older neighbors (but never with more than one or two lines in an episode because they’re just not that interesting.)

What about talented singers and musicians who might not pass the ‘attractive enough for a video’ test? Just think about all the voices we never would have heard. This obsession with perfection, with pretty, has created a monster. It’s the stuff of science fiction. Anyone who is older and not blessed with perfect features and eternal youth is ignored. Those who are young and not perfectly perfect must invest in plastic surgery, botox, implants, breast enhancement, hair plugs, whatever is ‘required’ to be a little Stepford-perfect-person. All others are deemed not worthy of serious consideration for work in the media. Yes, there are exceptions, thank goodness, but not enough.

Whenever I see a somewhat older someone in the public eye succumb to the pressure of facial implants, etc, I feel such disappointment. “Oh no, (fill in the blank) got work done, too?!?” Another disappointed sigh. I certainly understand the pressures those people must feel to keep their jobs, to please the powers-that-be. As someone who knows many actors who work in film, I know all too well how hard it is for women above the age of 50 to get work.

But it’s not right. It’s not reality. Teeth aren’t meant to be blindingly white. Faces are not meant to have implants or be injected with something that contains botulism. Faces are meant to be quirky, interesting, filled with character and to reflect a life lived. Cheeks are meant to move when one smiles. They aren’t meant to be suspiciously smooth and to stay in one place no matter what the rest of the face does. Wrinkles are earned. Smile lines are wonderful.

Look, I’m in my fifties. I’m not thrilled with my sagging jowls. Or the big frown line between my eyebrows. Or my body that changed with menopause. Or my gray hair. But let’s face it, they are me. I have lived. I have experience. I’ve gained wisdom because of what I’ve been through, what I’ve seen, what I’ve done. The same holds true for everyone of a certain age. I’d rather hear Brian Williams give me the news than a pretty young thing on another channel. I want some weight, some gravitas. I want to see a series with lead characters who are middle aged or older. I’m sick of young, perfect and insipid. And I’m real tired of seeing middle aged actors who are only taken seriously and given work when they have erased any signs of aging.

I’m not the target audience, clearly. But I’ve decided to stop watching these programs or anything that perpetuates this false idea of perfection. If everyone got together and said, “No more. I am what I am and I’m proud of it. No more botox, plastic surgery, face lifts, teeth whitening” maybe the paradigm would change. When everyone buys into a false paradigm, then it becomes reality.

And that ‘reality’ is a scary one.

On a cold, cold December day, I made my way into Manhattan to have some fun at the party celebrating the first issue of Where Women Cook.

It was held at Chelsea Market – oh my gosh, what a fabulous place! It is full of wonderful restaurants and food emporiums and is in the old Nabisco Building. Oh, there’s also an Anthropologie there. You can bet I will be visiting it again, especially when I’m working on a coaching job in NYC this February and March. Many of the restaurants and businesses are owned by women. In fact, several of them will be featured in upcoming issues of Where Women Cook.

Interestingly enough, I ate very little while I was there. I was too busy gabbing. I did manage a cup of soup with my friend, Elizabeth Maxon. Elizabeth and I are blogging friends and we were so excited to finally get the chance to meet. She is featured in this issue – and she also contributed some of her photographs.

Elizabeth is wonderful. We talked and talked and if she hadn’t had to attend to other things (like signing copies of the magazine) we would have kept right on talking. We have theater in common – both of us were actresses for a time. Elizabeth is generous, funny and oh, so talented. I am in awe of her design style and her way with a camera. Speaking of cameras, I was lucky enough to be asked to take some photos with her camera, as well as Tiffany Kirchner-Dixon’s camera. Oh. my. goodness. I love my Canon but it is a very high end point-and-shoot. And I now realize there is a major difference between that level of camera and the next level of camera. I want one. I will have to start saving my pennies. It’s time to move on to the next level. Perhaps I should start a “Help Claudia buy a new camera” fund. Just kidding. Sort of.

What was so inspiring about this get-together was that it was about women celebrating women. So many talented women were there and each one was warm, friendly and charming. Usually, these events don’t seem to take place on the East Coast, so I’m really happy I had the chance to attend. I was lucky enough to be introduced around by Elizabeth and meet some wonderful women who are entrepeneurs and bloggers. The idea was to have the featured women sit at tables and sign copies of the magazine, as well as their books. There was a long line outside the door leading up to the 2 pm start time.

Here are some photos from the event:

Mamma Agata, Elizabeth and Suzy Eaton.

 

My blurry photo of Ree Drummond.

Wendy Addison was also there – for some reason I didn’t get a photo of her – darn! I’m sure I’ve missed a few others. If so, I apologize.

When I first arrived, I saw a woman who looked familiar. Turns out it was fellow blogger, Jane of A Pixie and a Gypsy.

 

It was a fun afternoon! But soon I headed out into the very, very cold weather and boarded the bus for home. When I arrived at the bus station, it was snowing! Our first, very light, snowfall of the season.

Hope you enjoyed this peek into the launch party. Today we bought our Christmas tree and I’ve made a little start on the decorations. We keep it pretty simple here at MHC.

It has been hard for me to visit everyone lately. I apologize. I will try to get around to you all this week. I also see some new commenters – thank you so much for leaving a comment. I promise to visit you soon!

I’ve been thinking a lot about technology lately. During the World Series, every other commercial was for some sort of cell phone that could function as a television, as a computer, as an iPod, as a way to text message endlessly or play games. Each commercial was conceived in a way that made the phone sound like the Second Coming.  The message was that you could do anything with these phones. You could stay connected 24 hours a day. The advertising agencies have done a stellar job of convincing the public that they will not be connected without a cell phone that does everything. Bravo.

Listen, I love technology. I love my laptop, I have an iPod, I use the internet. I am grateful for the technological advances that have given me the opportunity to blog, to google something at a moment’s notice, to listen to music while on my computer, to call someone on my cell phone.

When I first met Don, I didn’t have a personal computer. I didn’t have a cell phone. Somehow, I survived. I decided to get my first cell phone for personal safety. I was often at rehearsals and performances until very late at night and the idea of being able to contact someone in an emergency was very comforting. For Don, a cell phone enabled him to keep in touch with his agents – no more beepers or calling an answering service.  However, I distinctly remember my initial response to the idea of a cell phone: I didn’t always want to be reached. I wanted quiet in the car when I was driving. I wanted to walk down a street and not be tethered to my cell phone. I figured then, as I figure now, that if someone really needed to reach me, he or she could leave a message. Simple.

Now, when I walk down a city street – Manhattan, for example – all I see are people wearing ear phones, listening to music and/or texting, with heads down, isolated from everyone else on the street. No one looks at anyone they pass, no one is present. There seems to be a need to fill every moment with trivial text messages, with watching a television show on a tiny cell phone screen, with communications that are just so important that they cannot wait. Unless you’re the President, I have a feeling nothing is that important.

What good is all of this if it stops us from really connecting with others? What good are a 1000 friends on Facebook, if you can’t pick up the phone and call one? Who cares about the minutia that I would communicate if I had a Twitter account? Do you care that I’m going to the grocery store to get toilet paper? I hope not.

So much of this technologically advanced world we live in can be a positive force. I, for one, am very grateful for the chance to have this blog and for the opportunity it gives me to meet people from all over the world. I wouldn’t have that without these advances. I’ve found real, not virtual, friends through blogging. But sometimes I have to force myself to disconnect. Because there is life to be lived.

I remember the very first time I visited Manhattan. I was about 22 and I flew from Detroit to NYC to visit my college roommate. As I walked around the city, people kept smiling at me. It made me a bit nervous and I asked my friend about it. She told me it was because my face was so open, because I smiled in my friendly Midwestern manner and people were naturally drawn to that. I was approachable. I’m not so naive that I don’t know that you have to be careful in a city – I’ve lived in Boston, Philadelphia and San Diego. I didn’t have a car in either Boston or Philadelphia. I walked everywhere. I get it.

But what happens if we are so enthralled with our cell phones and our music players that we don’t open our eyes to those around us? We lose the opportunity to return a smile, pause and open a door for someone, help someone with a package, talk to someone while waiting in line, comment on the weather – any one of a number of ways to reach out and really connect with another human being.  And that is what is important. Not a text. Not a virtual conversation. A real moment in time where two human beings smile or laugh or even commiserate with each other. Or for that matter, a moment in time where one just is.

My pal William Shakespeare said it best – “…a lot of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” If we fill up every moment with distractions, we never allow a moment to be.

This need to be connected is a real one for all of us. It is a fundamental need. We have to be careful that the illusion of being connected doesn’t replace what is real and lasting.