Delusions in Cleveland

I was just on a publicity tour in the U.S for the paperback release of the second volume of my memoirs titled, AFTER THE FALLS. One of my first stops was Cleveland. Now for most people Cleveland has very little meaning, but it is packed with meaning for me.

Forty five years ago I was a teacher at a ghetto high school in the late 60’s when The Hough area of the city was burning during the riots after the murder of Martin Luther King. In the third volume of my memoir which will come out next year, tentatively titled, ROUND-TRIP, I recount my student teaching experience and how I was nearly fired not only by my supervising teacher, not just by the principal, but by the superintendent of the Cleveland school system.

It is never easy for a tall blond of twenty-one years of age to return to the scene of the crime as a faded blond. let’s be honest I was now a white haired sixty- four year old. (The Beatles have that one right. ‘Will you still need me’, etc.) After my fatally flawed student teaching experience, I went on to do a PhD. in psychology on DARWIN’S INFLUENCE ON FREUD. Then I was a psychologist for twenty-five years.

I decided that even though I left Cleveland nearly under armed guard, I was not going to return bowed and slink into the city. I wanted the inhabitants to know I could still rock with the best of them. I attempted to make the following fashion statement: I am no longer a teacher or a conservatively dressed psychologist. At Fifty I broke out and became a writer. I don’t have to wear the solid black of the aging – as in ‘black hides all.’ I didn’t have to wear a suit since I am no longer a staid psychologist. I can have edge since that is what writers are supposed to possess. Therefore, I wore blue jeans and a really unique brown suede jackets that is covered with multicolored beads and fringe. I had pink Japanese paper book shaped earrings dangling with insouciance from my ears, and my feet were shod in purple pointed cowboy boots with yellow top stitching. I was convinced I had created the perfect writerly image. As far as Cleveland was concerned I was saying to any teachers from my old faculty who were going to attend my talk, I was not the prodigal teacher.

I left the airport and climbed into the cab. Believe it or not the cab driver was named Cleveland. He said his parents wanted to be sure he felt at home. As I got in the back seat he said, “You goin’ to the Rock and Roll Hall of fame?” This museum is Cleveland’s only claim to tourist development in the last quarter century. Even the hotel keys are in the shape of a guitar. The airport walkway is full of large rock and roll photos.

I informed him that I was in town to read from my book. He said that he surprised because I looked exactly like a Dolly Parton fan coming to pay tribute at the Rock and Roll hall of fame. He said he’d seen dozens of them over the years and I exactly fit the bill.

There is such a far cry between fantasy and reality and it took Cleveland in Cleveland to let me know I had to ‘mind the gap.’

publicity tour in the United States and Canada

Well I've gone from New York City to Sundance, Utah, with many desultory and sometimes interesting stops in between, flogging the paperback edition of my second memoir AFTER THE FALLS.

When on these tours the publisher pays for the hotel, and expenses and they usually provide a handler, a person who picks you up at the airport and takes you to different box bookstores where they can't find your book. Then they take you to your various speaking venues in the evening. I found that the handler was often a microcosm of the city I was visiting.

Handler in New York
When she picked me up at LaGuardia, we were not out of the airport before she told me that handling was not her full time gig. She is, in fact, a performance artist. When I asked her if she would be coming to my event in the evening she said that she was ‘run off her feet’ and I should take a cab. As I got out of her car she said, "Remember Kate, this is New York City. Don't expect a big audience. There is a lot going on.”

Handler in Sundance, Utah
When I arrived at the Airport in Utah, there was a man holding up a sign that read Golddink instead of Gildiner. (He was really handsome so I figured Golddink was close enough.) I knew I was out of New York when he gave me a bear hug while I was still gripping my carry-on luggage. He said, “ I hope more than anything that I can get to your talk tonight. We are all so excited that you’re here.” There are many drivers or 'handlers' at Sundance because everyone stays in a cabin in the Mountains and you have to be picked up for every meal. Each one said they were thrilled that I was there and one said, “Wild horses couldn’t keep me from that talk. Plus I can't wait to read your book.” It always makes me feel good when young people, thirty and under, are excited about my book. I was, therefore, surprised when not one of the eight handlers came to my talk or bought the book.

Handler in Red Deer, Alberta, Canada
Then I went to Red Deer, Alberta. When I landed at the airport I asked the handler if she was going to be at my talk she said, “Of course it’s my job”, as though it was a tough slog but she was getting paid for it. She was there with her entire book club of thirty people and each one bought a book.

You are your own geography

New York
When I was in New York the first morning my handler said she would meet me at Starbucks ‘around the corner’. I went there and she wasn’t there. I went back to my hotel and was informed by the doorman that there were ‘nine Starbucks within the one large block. Yikes. Finally after my Starbucks excursions, I gave up on the handler and decided to sit down and have a coffee and let her find me. Every single person had a computer, as it is free Wi-Fi at Starbucks. There were no seats available. Finally when a man left and there was only a lone man at a table for two I said , “Mind if I join you”. He said ‘Well this is my office and I am just about to have a meeting.” At that moment a man in a suit arrived and the lone man in the chair greeted him and welcomed him as though he had a corner office in Rockefeller Plaza. I guess with high rents and such little space, you take space where you can get it. Starbucks coffee may be expensive but it is cheaper than an hour of New York rents.
After giving up on my handler and a seat at Starbucks, I crawled back to my hotel. This was a really high-end hotel, even by New York Standards, so I was shocked to find out that they were charging over $12.00 a day for Wi-Fi. I said to the clerk at the front desk that they should just add the price to the room instead of nickel and diming people. (I wasn’t paying for it, but the principal bothered me.) I informed him that even at the Super Eight motels the Wi-Fi is free. He never looked up from sorting his mail and said in a thick Brooklyn accent, ‘Well honey, so are the bedbugs.’

Sundance
At Sundance all of the waiters were handsome and friendly. They knew my name after the first day and sometimes even sat down to join me. In the deli they had what is called in New York City a tip box. However, at Sundance it is called a Karma jar. They even call Robert Redford 'Bob'.

One of the great things about Utah was the space. The restaurants at Sundance are huge and you have ten feet between your table and the next one. The Rockies give you feeling of space. The people are also expansive just like the terrain. They are happy to meet you. They reach out. I made the mistake of thinking that all of their warmth meant they were interested in my work. It didn't. It was just cordiality.

Red Deer, Alberta
There are certain spots in my presentation where the audience ususally laughs --in the United States. No one broke a smile in Red Deer, Alberta or in Calgary. Once my talk was over I didn't expect to sell many books, but we sold so many we ran out. Each person in the audience bought at least one. One man approached me poker faced and said in the most laconic of tones, "You're a riot. I never heard such a funny talk." He never once cracked a smile as I signed his book.

Conclusion
The great thing about North America is the diversity. Once you know what the cues are it is great to travel around. New York City competes with you, but I love how out front they are about it. Once you know the rules for how this tiny island that is crammed with people operates, you can function quite easily.

The space and friendliness in Utah was so calming after New York. Yet I had to be careful not to interpret their expansiveness as interest in me per se. Once I got that down I was fine. When they all said good-bye and said they were so excited for my third volume, I knew it was just best to just wave and smile instead of giving them the publication date.

Good ol' Canada --my home--not all that friendly, or welcoming. It is bitterly cold in Alberta; you have to count on one another or you could blow away or freeze. So what they say is what you get. There is comfort in that.

book tour - strip searched in Oakland airport

I am in a rush. I have just given a talk in Oakland, California and I have to dash to the airport to fly all night so that I can arrive and give a talk in Niagara Falls, New York. I only have 38 minutes to get from venue to the plane. I am in a panic because I am sure there will be hundreds at my talk in Niagara Falls since my first book Too Close To the Falls takes place there. It is my home town. That always draws a crowd.What if I don't make the plane and the audience are all left looking at a blank podium. It will give new meaning to Thomas Wolfe's line You can't go home again. (Little did I know at the time,I actually had nothing to worry about. I had fewer people in Niagara Falls than I had in Oakland where I didn't know anyone.)

Breathless I arrived at the gate and threw my bag on the security belt. There were two pretty young girls in their early twenties in front of me and the security guard said, "have a nice trip girls" and smiled. I am next and the smile faded from his face and now he has gone from looking jovial, if a bit lecherous, to looking like he is doing a Clint Eastwood Dirty Harry imitation and he says, "Do you have any metal parts?" I say, as a joke, "Like that metal plate in your head?" as I walk into the frame where they check you over with the magic wand. Suddenly all of the machinery stops whirring. The conveyor belt is no longer running. The guard, a white haired male in his 60's like I am a white haired female in my 60's, glare at one another. He says "Come with me." I realize I have been, as my mother used to say to me, 'digging my own grave' I decide it is best to explain my 'humor'. I ask how come he didn't ask the girls in front of me if they had metal parts? If you can't do racial profiling how come you can do ageist profiling?"

He no longer looks at me or listens to me. I am now only a talking metal part to him. He motions to two very large black women and says only two words, Strip search. I am taken into a small room and as the woman pulls on her robin's egg blue gloves, she shakes her head and says "Who did you piss off?"

I emerge from the room assured that I will never feel the same way about robin's egg blue rubber gloves, and there is the bad Dirty Harry imitator. Now he calls me to the side of the conveyor belt and he has decided to go through my suitcase. He finds a number of copies of my book in the suitcase and asks in an accusatory tone "So you like to read I see? This was said as though we were in Turkey and he'd just found a kilo of hash. I nod in the affirmative. (Once you've had the blue glove treatment you learn humility.) He has a trainee with him and I can see he is showing off for him. He says, "How come you keep reading the same book?" ( further evidence he has a medal plate in his head) I explain that I wrote it and when he looks dubious, I show him my picture in the back of the book. He takes about five minutes to check out each detail.( There are so many Catherine Gildiner impersonators out there you can't be too careful.) Then he asks what the book is about and I say it is a memoir. Then he says "Who's it about?" When I say 'me' he laughs as though the idea of anyone reading about me is unfathomable. He shakes his head and says to the trainee, "It takes all kinds."

After all of this I have of course missed my plane. I run to the gate anyhow and lo and behold they are late loading so I get on. I am so late that everyone is all belted in. They think the plane waited for me. I say to the woman next to me "I was strip searched at security.". She just looks at me and says "TMI" and does not utter another word for the flight and the other people give me a stare that said 'what is wrong with you? You are not even a Muslim and you held up the plane.

A Great Good Place to Buy Books-- book tour

On my book tour for my memoir that just came out in the States called AFTER THE FALLS I went to Oakland, California. The day I got there everyone in Oakland was told to stay home and the police closed the Bart subway system. I was bewildered since I had flown thousands of miles from Toronto to give to talk to people who were not allowed out. Bad Karma.

When I asked the doorman of my hotel why there were police on every corner and the streets were empty, I was told that Oakland expected a race riot. A Black Man had been shot and killed by a white officer. A trial ensued and the judgment, which was a light sentence for the white cop was handed down on this day of November 5, 2010-- the same day as my talk. The doorman said "Everybody knows that policeman deserved more time than he got and the community is going to rise up and tell the world about it." I said "I came out here to give a talk and now no one will come since they have been told to stay home." The doorman yelled, "Sorry honey. I guess it is not all about you today!" He had a point.

So as the evening approached, I packed my speech to give to an empty room in my bag and headed on the vacated police lined streets to my venue. As I drove down the huge forlorn highway a policeman pulled me over and asked where I was going. When I told him, he suggested I turn around and go back to my hotel and stay in until morning. I told him in no uncertain terms that I had flown thousands of miles to give this talk and I planned to make it to the book store no matter what and if no one was there, I would talk to myself. He nodded and said to another approaching policeman, 'No point talking to her. She thinks she some bell of the ball at some book store."

It was probably the only night in years that there was no traffic. I pulled onto a narrow side street and saw the small independent bookstore in the Montclair district of Oakland. It was bigger than a shoe box and smaller than a real room. I'd say it approached the size of a box car. When I walked in people screamed and shouted my name. There before me were a gaggle of girls that I'd gone to high school with at good ol' Amherst high over 40 years ago. They had 'gone out west in the 60's. There were also many others who came from hours away and all congregated at the small store. They had braved the ominous atmosphere and made it to the store.

Then the owner introduced me and told the following story. The previous owner of the store had loved my first book called TOO Close to the Falls and had actually managed to hand sell 500 copies. For those of you not familiar with book sales that is an amazing amount. She kept asking an employee to read the book. However the employee, who was also a stubborn Irish Catholic, refused to read it saying things like "just because you liked a book doesn't mean I will." Then the owner got cancer and the employee read the book as a tribute to her and loved it. When the owner died, the employee bought the store and continued to push the book, just as the previous owner had. They are now up to 700 copies sold.

I just loved this store and the people who ran it. I don't think there is any store in the nation who has sold 700 copies of my book and that includes my home town. It was such a joy to walk into a shop off a desolate street and see such warm hearts. Thank God for the independent book store and this one in particular. At first I though the title of the store called A GREAT GOOD PLACE TO BUY BOOKS was hokey but by the time I left I thought the name was inspired.

book tour first stop Seattle

Ok so my first stop on my hard cover AFTER THE FALLS book tour was Seattle. Naturally it was a gorgeous city-- everyone knows that from Sleepless in Seattle. If you didn't see that movie then you are from another planet. Speaking of another planet, it is the home of Microsoft and Starbucks. Everyone's clothes smell like a bitter roast venti.

What I noticed about the city was how natural women looked. I had just left New York and Toronto where almost everyone my age ( I am almost a national institution) dyes their hair. No one my age has gray hair in Toronto except for me. People often comment on it--saying how nice it is, etc. Really they are thinking --why oh why does this woman not dye her hair!

Once when I was a psychologist I had a patient from Iran. On the last day of her therapy she wanted to thank me so she gave me a package of hair dye from L'oreal. She was completely sincere when she said that she figured I had no idea that I could dye my hair at home and she assumed I had no idea about the hair dye products available in the drug store. As she said, 'otherwise why would you have white hair?" She just had the nerve to say what most people thinking.

It was great to be in Seattle. Even at smart restaurants women had natural gray hair and very little makeup. They were not burned-out-hippies in tie-dye shirts and stone washed jeans, but really stylish women who decided to look their age and not pile carcinogens on their head every six weeks. They also wore comfortable loose clothing and flat shoes. Many of the shoe stores didn't even have high heels. (not kidding)

All of this time I thought that I was odd in Toronto marching around with my white hair looking like Mrs. Claus. Once in Toronto I lost my cell phone and someone got on a loud speaker in a large theater and said "Will the woman with white hair come to the counter. We have your cell phone." If I lived in Seattle they would never have gotten away with that message.

It was also strange to see no one with a face lift. Everyone over 50 looked just like they were over 50 and not like tired stretched 35 year olds. It was great to be with others who were not trying to look younger. Shockingly they only wanted to look good, comfortable, relaxed and their real age.

Radiologist

My husband is a radiologist. He goes to work every day and wears a lead apron and tells me how hard his job is. When I ask him what happens at work ( just to make dinner conversation) he says in a certain taciturn tone "Nothing happened-- I took exrays and blew up some occluded arteries--then I got in a traffic jam and came home."

However I beg to differ. My son went with him to take you kid to work day and he took the following video. Never believe that your husband has a boring day at work. He just wants you to think that so you will make him supper.

Anormal from Jarbas Agnelli on Vimeo.

fish need a bicycle.

Wodek Szemberg,a director of ideas segments on TVO television, has suggested a topic for me to discuss on the program. He asks "Is the bumper sticker slogan A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle more then just snarky expression of feminist hostility towards but an early apprehension of the diminishing importance of men to women." Wodek then suggested I read an article in Newsweek called 'Why we need to re-imagine masculinity' (http://www.newsweek.com/2010/09/20/why-we-need-to-reimagine-masculinity.html)


First of all just a point of clarification. Many people think that Gloria Steinem originated that phrase but Steinem says she got it from an anonymous author who painted the slogan on a wall at University of Wisconsin in 1969. The slogan was a twist on the philosophical text 'A man needs God like a fish needs a bicycle'.

It is interesting how it has caught on from graffiti and the phrase is used today as though it is new. However, it was coined over forty years ago. If you haven't heard it you are probably from another planet.

Why does the phrase say so much to so many women? It is having a renaissance in the last year or two since the topic of males falling behind in education and in so many other categories has been discussed in the press.

You can talk about the 'feminization' of the school system' and the other injustices to males all you want, but the fact remains that females have made major changes since the sixties and males have not. If men don't want to make changes then of course, they are going to get left behind in a changing world.

I don't blame men for not wanting to make changes. After all they held all the power since the beginning of civilization and now they are digging in their heels rather than give it up. It may take a century or more for the change to happen. ( It may take even longer given the fact that so little change has happened in the last half century.)

When you look at the rise in male alcoholism, depression, and joblessness, in psychological terms, you can see that males are conflicted about making the necessary changes and may in fact be at a loss on how to make those changes. All they conscioulsy feel is that they don't fit in the world as they used to. To be fair we give males a double message and as we all know double messages always make you slightly crazy. First we say we want more nurturing males. Yet when a male says he is a nurse, as in the film Meet the Parents we silently snicker and think to ourselves, 'Hey isn't that a girl's job'.

Women have headed into the workforce. I often give talks on my new memoir After the Falls about what it was like to be a teenager in the 60's. When I talk to girls in high school, they are shocked to find out that it was not politic if you wanted to date in the early 60's to be smart. You were supposed to hide that. They are also shocked to learn that the term assertive was not used in connection with females until 1966. So what were you called if you were assertive before 1966? How about bitch, mouthy,or bossy. Anyone over 50 knows what I mean. There was no positive word to use. As these high school girls listen to this incredulously they say the opposite is true now.

Gradually over the last forty years the expectations for girls have changed. Law and Medicine now have more females than males in their programs. Women had to make changes. They had to stop being passive and looking at getting their Mrs. as their goal in university. Women actually said that proudly in the 1950's and 60s when I went to university. Women had to learn how to negotiate, head into the boardroom, be assertive and make it stick. Still they had families in the hope that their husbands would make changes as well and do as much work as they did on the home front.

Guess what? They didn't. Most males act like their father's acted. They do less than a third of the child care, less than 20 percent of the housework, and in terms of personality traits they have not changed one iota.( That's why Monday Night Football was invented.) Of course there are exceptions. However,I am talking statistically.

They have actually fallen behind as fathers since there are more single mothers than ever before and more dead beat dads hit the pavement every day and they are not going to the employment centre. How are they getting away with it? Of course they are not. They are lost and often depressed, refuse to communicate, and act out.

As one of my patients said to me-- I can get sperm in a bottle and then I never have to plead with any man to change a diaper.

It is naive to think that when women change as much as they have over the last four decades and men stay the same-- there will not be conflict. I find it interesting that as the decades go by the gender gap in terms of males' behaviour does not narrow.

Girls in high school today say that they don't know what the slogan I went to university to get my Mrs. means? How long will it take before girls and women don't know what is meant by the phrase A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle?