When “Curb Your Enthusiasm” actress Cheryl Hines tied the knot with Robert Kennedy Junior earlier this month I couldn’t help but wonder why she opted for the aisle walk instead of the safer bet of shacking up, especially considering this was her second and his third marriage. After all, it’s not easy being a female in the political family. Kennedy women–from Rose to Jackie, and even Maria Shriver–have had to stoically endure not only tragedies, but personal humiliations.
Posted in Rants & Ramblings
Tagged Cheryl Hines, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Dr. Phil, Hollywood, Hyannis Port, Jr, Maria Shriver, New York City, New York Post, Oprah, Robert Kennedy, single parent
Kudos to Valerie Riviello for having the courage to expose the Albany Stratton VA Medical Center’s for its inhuman treatment of vets. With one swift act of defiance, the New York nurse showed that a medical degree is useless if not backed with empathy and compassion. (See New York Post)
My advice: write the book and go on “60 Minutes.” Why stop now?
Getting into a good public school in New York City is a bit of a crapshoot. One, as in the case of my friend, could live in a high rent ‘hood, but have a zone school that as crowded and poorly managed as a Mexican prison and forced to send their kid to a private one across town.
A blaring example of education gone wild is PS 106, the school in Far Rockaway, Queens that the New York Post dubbed “the school of no” for its lack of books, supplies and an absentee principal. Marcella Sills, the fur-loving principal, should be brought up on charges. Pronto.
If anything, the PS 106 fiasco was a poignant reminder that in this respect I am blessed. Figuratively speaking, I hit the public school lottery. My zone school is one of the best in the city. It’s a bright, cheery place with supportive administration and involved parents. It is also a hop, skip and, if you’re walking my daughter, 3-4 cartwheels, from our apartment.
Today, I thank God for my daughter’s school.
With the Super Bowl coming to the MetLife Stadium in New Jersey and hotels filled to capacity, a friend suggested I rent out my apartment.
I was intrigued but worried that in the wrong hands my place would be turned into a frat house. I imagined returning to stale beer puddles and furniture dotted with cigarette burns.