First Person Singular by Wendy Braitman

The Fabulous Elizabeth Palmer Peabody

These last few days, I’ve had my head stuck in a book, “The Peabody Sisters,” by Megan Marshall, a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize in nonfiction. It profiles Elizabeth, Mary and Sophia Peabody, three extraordinary women born into a prominent, yet impoverished New England family in the 19th century.

I’m fascinated by the eldest sister, Elizabeth, who was the intellectual dynamo of the clan and the most ambitious. She had a remarkable impact on the cultural landscape, carving out a luminous career as a writer, publisher, translator and educator, and established the first American kindergarten. Elizabeth was an impresario of sorts, and owned a bookstore, which served as a nightly “salon,” and hub for the great reformers and literary figures of the day. 

None of the Peabody sisters viewed marriage as their primary goal, although Sophia and Mary ended up with famous husbands (Sophia wed Nathanial Hawthorne, and Mary married Horace Mann, considered the father of public education). Elizabeth had her share of suitors and romantic longings (Nathaniel and Horace among them, and that’s a story for another day), but she vowed to “be myself and act”  and stayed single during her long and productive life.

I Love Richard Avedon (and who doesn’t)

Starting tomorrow, May 15  through September 9, 2009, the International Center of Photography in New York is featuring an exhibition of the great fashion photography of Richard Avedon, spanning his career at Harper’s Bazaar, Vogue, The New Yorker et al. I might just have to plan a trip. Check out Roberta Smith’s rave review in the Times.

(Photo: “Dovima with Sacha, Cloche and Suit by Balenciaga, Café  des Deux Magots, Paris, August, 1955″)

What NOT to Wear When Looking for a Date

Fern Magonet Schad was leading a very full life, divided between her homes in Manhattan and Southampton, N.Y. “I wasn’t looking for romance,” said Ms. Schad, a slender and fit former photo editor. But when she met Alfred H. Moses of McLean, VA one night at a dinner party, the sparks flew. Her daughter began worrying that her mother was staying out too late. “She started getting date clothing,” said Katie Schad.
–From New York Times, Weddings & Celebrations

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Why Henry James Got it Wrong

There are women who are unmarried by accident, and others who are unmarried by option; but Olive Chancellor was unmarried by every implication of her being. She was a spinster as Shelley was a lyric poet, or as the month of August is sultry.  
                                 from The Bostonians, by Henry James, 1886

In San Francisco, where I lived for 24 years, August is NOT a sultry month. It is brisk when the fog rolls in, and I was as likely to wear a turtleneck sweater for an evening out in August, as I was in January. Which illustrates a point I’ve been wanting to make; just because people say things with great authority, doesn’t make them right, even when it’s one of the great writers, and a favorite of mine, like Henry James.

Fantasy Chicken Salad by Debby Maugans (author of Small Batch Baking)

Each year in May, I am overwhelmed with river kayaking (including new boat) lust.  My longing to get my (new) boat into whitewater is particularly strong this year.  During a trek to and from Asheville, NC, this past weekend, my daughter and I took the scenic route home through Tennessee along the Nantahala and Ocoee rivers.  Fifteen years ago, I drove this distance at least bi-monthly to paddle one or the other.  Alas, the demands of life wedged between me and my paddle.  Now my spray skirt, dry suit, and dry bag have dry rotted.  (Not to mention my boat’s design is archaic, judging by the sportier models on the river.)

(“Fantasy Chicken Salad” recipe follows)

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Mothers of America, let your kids go to the movies

Thanks to my wonderful Mom, who always encouraged me to get out of the house –

AVE MARIA, by Frank O’Hara, 1960

Mothers of America
              let your kids go to the movies
get them out of the house so they won’t
   know what you’re up to
it’s true that fresh air is good for the body
             but what about the soul
that grows in darkness, embossed by
   silvery images
and when you grow old as grow old you
   must
             they won’t hate you
they won’t criticize you they won’t know
             they’ll be in some glamorous
               country
they first saw on a Saturday afternoon or
   playing hookey
they may even be grateful to you
             for their first sexual experience
which only cost you a quarter
             and didn’t upset the peaceful
               home
they will know where candy bars come
   from
             and gratuitous bags of popcorn
as gratuitous as leaving the movie before
   it’s over
with a pleasant stranger whose apartment
   is in the Heaven on
             Earth Bldg
near the Williamsburg Bridge
             oh mothers you will have made
                 the little
                            tykes
so happy because if nobody does pick
   them up in the movies
they won’t know the difference
             and if somebody does it’ll be
                 sheer gravy
and they’ll have been truly entertained
   either way
instead of hanging around the yard
             or up in their room hating you
prematurely since you won’t have done
   anything horribly mean
                  yet
except keeping them from life’s darker joys
             it’s unforgivable the latter
so don’t blame me if you won’t take this
   advice
             and the family breaks up
and your children grow old and blind in
   front of a TV set
             seeing
movies you wouldn’t let them see when
   they were young

On Mother’s Day: Why You Can Never Do Enough

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Blind Date from Hell, circa 2007

It’s staggering that this conversation could have taken place in the 21st century, but it did. I’m an eyewitness.

He:             Have you ever been married?
Me:             No (looking sheepish). Never.
He:             So you’re a loser, just like me.

Being Single and Rides to the Airport

For a recent trip to New York, I scheduled the taxi pickup at 5:30 AM. I wouldn’t dream of asking a soul–not even if I had a beloved spouse, or a lover in the first sparks of romance–to drive me to the airport that early. Since I started traveling for business years ago, I’d used up the good will of friends. So I stopped asking, even when the airport favor would have taken place at a reasonable time.

Towards the end of my father’s life, the plane trips to see him in Florida were harrowing. Back at LAX, I would wait in a long taxi line, and then the driver always seemed to need step-by-step instructions to my house, so I couldn’t relax. I would have given a lot for someone I loved with a comfortable sedan, and maybe a happy dog on the seat, wagging her tail when she spotted me outside the baggage claim area, to pick me up.

On that final journey home after my father died, my plane arrived hours late. We just hovered in the air, as if to say the nightmare of my father’s illness and death and packing up his life, would never end. And then the luggage didn’t come. I was desperate to collapse into the arms of a comfortable friend, so I asked for that. I was elated, if elation could be eked out at such a sad time, when my dearest friend William was at the curb, with his fluffy white dog, waiting for me.

(Photo: my beautiful dog, Rose.)

I am my own Wife*

Gloria Steinem famously said, “some of us are becoming the men we want to marry.” I would add to that – some of us are becoming our own wives. 

• Make sure the martini glasses are chilled
• Keep well stocked on ibuprofen
• Floss daily
• Have takeout menus close at hand
• Treat myself seasonally to new colors of lipstick
• Exercise regularly
• Stay hydrated

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