Authenticity (Guaranteed?)
I’ve been struggling, now, for almost ten days to get through my next blog post, which I planned to title,“The Summer of 2007!” It represents an enormous turning point, a period of transformation, a tragic realization, and a flat-out, gut-wrenching, painful change in me, in my life, in my kid’s lives, and in the past thirteen (or thirty) years of life as I knew them, as well as whatever else is still to come. While doing this, I have experienced feelings of love, betrayal, truth, and, somehow, everything in between. I’ve also realized that the summer of 2007 could fill an entire novel, and any of you wonderful people who continue to read this blog, might feel really lost as I jump from experience to experience, and do so (not always easily) but naturally, because I lived it. Then, I remember, or am reminded, by the best daughter, friend, tech-support, editor, analytics manager, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, (you get the point), that you all didn’t live it. Sometimes, it’s awfully heavy to “unpack,” hard to digest and maybe to follow along, as my ADD brain, and emotions take over the keyboard. So, forgive me please, for doing this… this segue, this pause, this reboot; whatever you want to call it? For today, this moment, and this right now, I’m just going to focus on what’s real and really authentic…and ME; after all, I decided quite some time ago, that I can only be surrounded by authentic everything, if you wonder why, keep reading!
I don’t remember if it was 2002 or 2003, but one of those years, my then husband, Al presented me with a Mother’s Day gift that he was super excited about; he had always been a huge art collector, but was way more than a little excited about giving me this particular gift. I opened the large, wrapped package and saw a beautiful watercolor of a Woman’s lovely face “sketched” (forgive me…I’m not an artist, so I don’t know if sketch is the correct term) in a background of my most favorite color of coral. She was staring back at me from behind a thick piece of glass and encased in a super heavy, wooden frame; she was beautiful, and I was touched by his thoughtfulness and the sentiment. Later, Emily told me that she had driven with him earlier in the week to obtain/pick “her” up, and it had been an unusual encounter; first of all, he had written a check, which he rarely carried with him, as he was definitely a “cash and carry” kind of guy. They had driven to some sketchy Los Angeles location where they met his “car, turned art collector,” buddy Barnie; that’s a whole other story (he had done a serious stint in “Camp Fed” after he took the fall for someone else’s crime, but it resulted in Bernard being pretty well “set up” for the future, once he was released. The whole thing was intriguing, if a little odd, not Al and his questionable contacts, but definitely the gift. Al usually gave gifts of jewelry; diamond necklaces, large ruby heart pendants dangling from a simple platinum chain, or Audemar Piguet watches were more his style; nevertheless, I loved this beautiful coral girl, and she was hung right away! Years later, as part of our Marital Settlement Agreement (MSA) in 2008, we had negotiated and executed a hand-written, initialed list of the special items of “personalty” I requested and was awarded….my Mother’s Day gift, the girl in coral, ”Miss Modigliani” was among those items. After the two and a half years, Al spent contesting, revisiting and refusing to honor our agreement, when the kids and I had lived in my Mom’s home for two months, then three rental houses over a two year period, with none of our personal belongings, but a few suitcases of clothing, our dogs, the turtle and the few small items, we had carried with us on the plane, two days following the mediation and our MSA, being drafted and finalized on September 5, 2008; it was discouraging to say the least. Finally, however, two years later, after more attorneys, more legal motions, and even Al’s alleged “bankruptcy” filing, I was able to buy a place of our own in August of 2010. Al supposedly, and instantly upon our divorce, had our main home, packed and put in storage with all the items from my “Personalty” list, as well as the entire contents of both Emily’s and PJ’s rooms…even though our agreement, the hand-written list, that our team of lawyers heard, saw in writing, agreed and recounted, stating that we (Emily, PJ and I) were supposed to be allowed back into what had been our main home of 15 years, and choose the special items from Roblar in person? Our two cats, Angel and Spice (that we’d had for almost the entire time we lived at that home, but never traveled with us) were on that list, too; they were not packed, nor were they in with the other items that had been stored for two years, and we never saw them again?
When we finally got the things that were ours from the three different houses that we used to call home, we set things up at our new home, which we lovingly and thoughtfully named, Rancho Valiente, an apt and most fitting name, as “Valiente” translates to brave in Spanish. We made a brand new home and started fresh, with “Miss Modigliani” resting on my fireplace mantel; she was still in that wooden frame and awfully heavy…I was kind of afraid to hang her myself. That’s saying a ton, as I, normally, am fearless and wouldn’t think twice about picking up a hammer, and getting things done, and hung. Nonetheless, there she sat. She always represented the incredible gift that my children were, and are in my life, each and everyday. If I’m being honest (which, obviously, I will be, as it translates to authentic, in my language), she was one of the most thoughtful gifts I remember Al ever giving me; especially upon the occasion of Mother’s Day. Could it be that he understood, or dare I say admired the type of mother I prided myself on being, or had he just finally acknowledged the amazing amount of effort and care that I took with our children, him and our life?
NOT SO FAST!
Two years ago, when I was listing items for my insurance inventory, and sent the paperwork off with my premium payment…I was, not pleasantly, surprised, when a few days later, Chuck, my insurance agent called to ask me, “what in the devil was I thinking?” I already hated official sounding calls like that; too many years with too many lawyers, and too many “Friday at 5:00” surprises, I guess? “What, what was wrong I asked him…had I listed items wrong, had he caught a mistake, what was incorrect?” I was getting both nervous and impatient? Right then, as he took a rather stern tone with me, I felt the hair on the back of my neck raise, and a small alarm sounded inside my mind, as he continued… “do you actually own a Modigliani?” I said, “yes, it was my Mother’s Day gift years ago!” He directed me to lock it up immediately and have it appraised. Oh for pete’s sake….I really didn’t care for it when things like this happened? “Why, I asked,” but he didn’t explain, and just told me to do it. So I did exactly that…
My trip, with “Miss Modigliani” to Bonhams on Sunset in Los Angeles to meet with the Art authenticator, was nothing if not a memorable experience. Such a lovely, composed, well-spoken, and surprisingly young woman the “expert” turned out to be; she was almost a perfect replica of Audrey Hepburn in “Breakfast At Tiffanys.” Turns out, she was also very swift, sure of herself, and handy too! Within ten minutes, she had some gloved, older gentlemen, in the small, yet beautifully appointed room, which she had led us into, along with “ Miss Modigliani,” still trapped within the wooden frame she had called home for years, gently resting on an enormous easel table. In minutes, her cage was unfastened, undone, and, curiously, Sonia (aka, Audrey Hepburn) seemed more interested in the back of the art, than the front. “Do you see” she asked me crisply? This was merely a vessel to hide some other article!” She deftly pointed to the outline of where something had been buried and then cut out from the backside of the piece; no “Authenticity” here, I’m afraid.” She was kind, but curt, and I was eager to leave…quickly, with my now, unframed and worthless Modigliani; it was no longer worthy of wearing the title “Miss Modigliani!”
This was just one more reminder of the life that I had poured my entire heart into; it was just a vessel for someone else to “hide or move” something else, to somewhere else…a perfect equation between me (the vessel), and my not so authentic “Modigliani.”
On that very quiet, and long, ride home from Beverly Hills, I made a few promises to myself!
-I promise to be real, even if no one likes it.
-I promise to be authentic, even if the truth is uncomfortable.
-I promise to help others discover their authentic voice, even if it makes them resent me.
-I promise to remove myself from fake and toxic relationships, even if it means being alone.
-I promise to never let myself be treated like a simple vessel again.
-And, most of all, I promise to be honest as I share my story of authenticity, even if it makes certain people send me letters from lawyers, and others, obsessively, read my posts, and send hateful messages.
With these promises in mind, I am working on writing of the most tremendous, terrifying, and horrible years of my life, so please excuse the time it may take… In the meantime, I’ll most likely throw in a random tidbit or two, as they need expression and a voice; thank you for being patient and understanding.
Authenticity is a rare quality, be it person, food, art, or an idea…. It doesn’t always come wrapped in a neat tidy package, nor is it always easy to recognize at first. Sometimes, it comes with lots of unpacking, and layers upon layers of complexity; sometimes, it’s something as simple as an original receipt, that marks an event, or a difficult time? I’ve learned it’s tough to come by, and there are imitations everywhere; you’ll probably need to do some digging to find the real deal. In the meantime, if you know someone, or have something authentic in your life…HOLD ON TIGHT; they are few and far between.