Caryl & Maryl post: Rewards of Change

Several months ago we asked some of our followers or some whom we wanted as followers to give us their opinions of our blog. We promised that there would be a prize for filling out the brief questionnaire we sent. All but a few of you sent in smart, thoughtful, clear answers and fresh, innovative ideas for making Second Lives Club a site you’d find useful and inspirational enough to return to a couple times a week. Since Caryl was on her way to India at the time, we hinted that the item would be from the subcontinent.

Did you think we forgot? Did you think we’d break our promise of a prize? Did you think the world doesn’t reward change? Of course, not. Being a member of the Second Lives Club means being there for each other in ways grand and small, helping one and other to make the changes necessary for a meaningful, productive, joyful new life.

Speaking of changes, we’ve made a few here on our site based on your input. Here’s a few you can notice right away: We changed the banner to reflect the women whose second lives we applaud in our posts. We’ve put our names in the headlines so you know upfront which one of us is writing. And, as you’ll discover in future posts, we heard you when you asked for more humor, more real life examples, more honesty about issues we face in the years ahead. And, more fun! We’ve even come out of the shadows as some of you requested . Click on About Us where you will find short bios and—yes—even our pictures.

(FYI: There was much debate about the photos. In the end, in the tradition of Second Looks, there’s a photo of us from a lifetime ago and a second life snapshot. Caryl still hates her current photo but Maryl reminded her that 20 years from now she’ll be saying how good she looks.)

We’re sending out the gifts (see above) along with our thanks this week. They are wrapped in Ikat fabric from Orissa, the fabric is hand-woven by the villagers, the dyes are natural and the patterns generations old.. (See: Welcome to the Third World Club). We hope you like them and will think of us when you wear them. And, if any of our new visitors want to share suggestions for and opinions of our blog, just leave a comment below. We still have a few gifts left. We'd love to send you one. In a future post, we will reveal what's in those ikat-wrapped

packages.

(Oh, and that Buddhist goddess in the picture? She’s White Tara, the goddess of long lives---and of wisdom and compassion. Two attributes all of us need in our second lives.)

Many thanks to all of you who sent your feedback.

Maryl writes: Reserving your mind for later on

I’ve just returned from the opening night of the Willem de Kooning retrospective at MOMA in NYC. It’s an amazingly huge exhibit with over $4 billion of artwork. De Kooning was known for his continual revising of his work and changing his style and he certainly did have a fixation with the female figure. One of his most famous paintings, “Excavation,” completed in 1950, was inspired by the image of a woman working in a rice field, the actress Silvana Mangano in the 1949 film “Bitter Rice.” You can identify different anatomical body parts up close although the film wasn’t released until after the painting was completed. Interestingly enough, the exhibition catalogue points out that in a late 1949 Life Magazine there was an article on the actress as well as one on the excavations of NYC subway stations at the time. Interesting how the mind works.    

"Excavation," Willem de Kooning

And the mind was working overtime for de Kooning in his last period of work. It is well documented that he was suffering from dementia by then although it’s impossible to determine if these later lean and less colorful canvases were just another style change or the products of a deteriorating mind. I discussed this a bit with the show’s curatorial assistant (and my cousin, so proud of her). Lauren came upon the concept of “cognitive reserve” in her research on the artist. "The way that some people process information, the brain networks they use, allows them to cope better," according to a Catherine M. Roe, research instructor in neurology at Washington University School of Medicine in St Louis. Basically the more cognitive reserve (CR) one has the less damage they will suffer from beta-amyloid plaques in the brain, the leading marker of Alzheimer’s disease, and the slower the mental decline. And the way you measure CR is based on one’s education level, forms of intellectual activity and occupational attainments.

Nothing more has been defined at this point on what schooling, activities or occupations are the best deterrents against any form of dementia. But isn’t it heartening to know that the steps we can take to protect our minds match the goals of a second life and we’re in control of them both. De Kooning’s final paintings have been described as having flatter surfaces with brilliant ribbons of color and had been recently grouped together in their own exhibition both here and abroad. Thanks to Willem de Kooning foremost for his most expressive art and for showing us that one can lead a full and productive life all the way to the end.

"Untitled," Willem de Kooning, 1983

Recap of links:
     1) De Kooning: A Retrospective at MOMA, NYC
     2) “Bitter Rice,” 1949 film
     3) Cognitive Reserve article

Caryl remembers: 9/11

Ten years ago next Sunday, I boarded a jet scheduled to leave JFK airport at 7A.M. for Atlanta where, as the editor of Real Simple, I was giving a speech to the magazine's advertisers. It was just a turnaround--I'd be home that evening so I had no luggage. I was accompanied by the director of publicity--a working mother who was leaving her infant daughter behind in the city for the first time. We made it there but we didn't make it back for five days, and we returned to a city and a nation that would never be the same. As one of my close friends and a writer for the magazine said at the time: "The new frontier is vulnerability." Here is the editor's note I wrote for Real Simple a decade ago following the attack on America.

September 11, 2001, marked my 19th anniversary. We had our wedding reception in the loft we had just purchased in a newly gentrifying neighborhood called Tribeca. The loft had a stunning view of the lower-Manhattan skyline: the gilded angel atop City Hall, the ornate scallops of the Woolworth Building, the simple strength of the twin towers of the World Trade Center.

My daughters grew up in the shadows of those buildings, attending neighborhood schools, playing soccer and baseball on the Battery Park field. In 1993, when a parking garage below the towers was bombed, I raced to P.S. 234 to retrieve my daughter Annie, then in kindergarten. One halloween several years ago, stumped for a costume, my husband and I took two empty refrigerator cartons, painted some windows, punched out eyeholes, stuck an antenna atop his box, and proudly marched with the kids in the local parade as the World Trade Center. Last June my older daughter, Catherine, celestial in a white dotted-swiss dress, attended her high school prom at Windows on the World, on the 106th floor.

The terrorists attacked the World Trade Center, the newspapers said, because it was a symbol of American capitalism. It was a personal symbol for me. On September 11, at 8:45 A.M. Eastern time, I was aboard a Delta jet flying to Atlanta to give a speech for Real Simple. Annie was attending her world-history class at Berkeley Carroll, her new high school in Brooklyn. Catherine, a freshman at Occidental College in Los Angeles, was fast asleep in her dorm room.

I mourn the loss of all the lives taken in the World Trade Center tragedy--and I mourn the life I lost as well. When I close my eyes, I can still see the Twin Towers. And when I look at my two teenage daughters, strong and tall, I strain to picture their future.




Postscript:
My daughter just posted her remembrances of 9/11 in a video on iVillage where she is an Associate Editor.  Her future has become clearer.  

  

Maryl pines: For a house with fewer memories

Photo by Svetlana Blasucci

This table sits in a dining room facing the Atlantic Ocean in an old Victorian house on the Jersey shore. It’s served up many a family celebration, including all the holidays, First Communions, graduations, anniversaries and, of course, birthdays. If you look in the pantry drawers you’ll find candles in the shapes of numbers 0 to 9….4 for my daughter’s first birthday in her new home in America and 80 for my mother’s milestone achievement. This dining room was where we cut our wedding cake and probably where the daughter of Thomas and Julia Wood, the original owners, did the same who was also married in the house. (Thomas Wood was a businessman from Manhattan and a Lieutenant in the Spanish-American War.) We’ve imagined celebrating our daughter’s wedding here as well but that eventuality remains to be sent. 

Last week we attended a House Packing party two doors away. You couldn’t leave without taking at least one item from their giveaway table. (I took a bamboo tray and some picture frames for my daughter's photography.)  This is the third family to move from that home since we’ve been in ours. The owners are becoming empty nesters and have already purchased their two bedroom apartment in Manhattan. But they are also having a new house built a few blocks away because they like this beach community and aren’t ready to sever all ties yet. It won’t be another Victorian or a McMansion but rather something smaller and simpler and not because of easy upkeep but so they can sell it more speedily in case they do want that rustic villa on a rolling hill in Tuscany.    

Their house used to be right next door but another was built on the open lot in between. Three families have lived there also, the current couple having relocated there so he can be close to his new job in the city and she could begin her second life as a writer after retiring from a career with the government. My neighbor on the other side took over her house after a divorce. She has just sold her second home outside the country and toys with buying and living elsewhere, maybe the city as well.

Because a second life allows us to redefine what we do next and retirement in general, flocking to Florida and the other sunbelt states has subsided. MSNBC reports “Battered by recession, more older Americans are staying put in traditional big cities to hold onto jobs, creating slowdowns in population growth at once-popular retirement destinations widely found in the South and West.” For the first time in decades, more people are moving into New York, Los Angeles, Boston, Chicago and Washington, D.C than out in contrast to the opposite happening in Las Vegas, Orlando, Phoenix, Atlanta and Raleigh, N.C., the usual retirement locations.

Paul Bishop, the vice president of research at the National Association of Realtors, in their study, “Baby Boomers and Real Estate” confirms that boomers want to retire in urban settings for at least part of the year because they offer easy access to public transportation, health care, culture and restaurants. Older Americans also want to be in or closer to cities because they plan to keep working or looping between work and leisure according to Merrill Lynch’s “The New Retirement Survey,” and because they are unlikely to retire at the typical retirement age.

It may be true that we will need less space - and stairs - and more amenities in our second lives. Our house always had more rooms than we needed, which is why we purchased it in the first place as a beach getaway for our family and friends to enjoy. So I don’t feel it’s the need to downsize or economize per se that prompts me to contemplate starting a new home elsewhere even though the cost of painting our house this month will be more than what my parents paid in total for the house I grew up in. Maybe it has more to do with the absence of some of those familiar faces who gathered around our dining room table and who have now moved on or away. This weekend I will celebrate my birthday there and blow out a few candles (I don't use the numbered ones anymore) and be grateful for the family and friends who are still there with me and pine for those who are not. Sometimes a house can hold too many memories and that’s when you know it’s time to move on.

Recap of links: 
1) “Baby Boomers become buyers,”as they reenter the NYC real   
      estate market
2) Frances Mayes on buying a house in Tuscany
3) MSNBC Report: “Cities gain as boomers delay”
4) Merrill Lynch’s “The New Retirement Survey”




Postscript:
I had a great birthday with family and friends gathered around the 
dining room table to sing to me but I took their picture instead. 
(I do remember 19 was a good year!)

                           

Caryl introduces: The Third World Club

Anyone who knows me knows that I love India. I have traveled to the subcontinent five times in the last seven years: twice for weddings (one Hindu, one Jain), once to pick up my daughter from her semester abroad in Tamil Nadu, and the others for no particular reason other than my inexplicable addiction to India. I have been to the Golden Triangle, the hill stations and the backwaters, and the temples and the palaces, but no place has been as memorable or moving as my trip last spring to Orissa with its tribal people. 

India has more than 400 tribes, and 62 of them live in the coastal state of Orissa. Their lives and work (hunting, gathering, fishing) are controlled by the supernatural forces that reside in the hills, forests, rivers and village huts. To see the tribal people, one must drive hundreds of kilometers on primitive roads (if roads at all) and arrive on market day when the women come down from the mountains to trade. They walk barefoot for two to three hours each way with babies on their hips, chickens under their shawls, vegetables in baskets on their heads. They come to sell what they grow or raise and buy what they need.

The women, who in some tribes wear little to no clothing in their villages, dress for the often arduous trek from the mountains. They come with their swaddled babies and with their older children in tow but nary a man unless you count the fellow with the bow and arrow who protects them from the occasional jaguar. They wear swags of clothe they have woven themselves, ornaments and jewelry they've made from aluminum and brass and beads. Those over five years of age sport tattoos. The older women wear multiple neck rings to protect them from animal attacks. A woman could survive if she lost a limb but not if the beast went for her neck.

The women of this Third World Club are desperately poor and often sick. Almost all of them are anemic, many have parasites and other intestinal problems, malaria is widespread. (Such common Western diseases as hypertension and diabetes,however, are absent). In some tribes, the life expectancy is mid-30s, the longest last into their late 40s. Girls marry around 16 and give birth on average to five babies. The incidence of maternal and infant mortality runs high. In the Kutra Konda tribe, a woman gives birth alone, half-squatting, holding a rope attached to a house, enabling her to bear down and push out the baby. In the Bonda tribe--my favorite for their elaborate market dress although they are naked in the villages-- the women marry younger men so that their husbands will take care of them in their older years.

These women will not have second lives. In the United States and most of the Western world, we can expect to live 30 years longer than in the 20^th century—a second adulthood until nearly 90. Members of the Second Life Club tend to be educated, affluent and accomplished. We are the lucky and the privileged, if only for the accidental circumstances of our birthplace. Recently, Maryl and I put up a new banner celebrating some of the women from our posts. (Can you identify them? Helpful hint: One you won’t find mentioned on our blog: She’s my best friend from high school). We put these pictures up so that you could see yourselves. (Have you noticed that our culture seldom depicts women our age.) The banner is a way to celebrate our collective lives and inspire our future years. Still, I can't help thinking we should use our talents and our extra three decades to figure out a way to help our sisters in the Third World, don’t you? I’m working on it. To encourage you to figure out ways we can do this together, I offer you just for now another banner –a tribute to the members of the Third World Club, the often invisible and ignored tribal women of Orissa.

2nd Chance: It's never too late to...

. . . watch Gloria: In Her Own Words

The HBO documentary of Gloria Steinem’s life and career as an activist and feminist airs for the second time on Thursday August 18 on the West Coast and Saturday August 20 on the East Coast. Or catch it "On Demand" until September 11, 2011.

Maryl writes: All Alone at the Water Cooler

As the jobless rate shows little improvement, more and more of us are starting and managing our own businesses from home, which can leave you feeling isolated and adrift. (See recent Intuit blog post for more on the psychological effects.) You start to realize the inherent support an average office setting afforded and the voids that now exist, like the emotional lift co-workers can provide or an area of expertise you don’t possess. There's no more huddling around the water cooler or coffee maker.  Yet there are many ways to deal with this lonely disposition from renting office space to informal coffee klatches. For example, there are numerous office business centers, like Select Office Suites, that lease full-time offices, virtual and hourly space and/or conference rooms to all size businesses. The larger metropolitan areas also have business clubs (The Terrace Club in New York is one example.) where you can stop in between meetings to respond to email, conduct a meeting, have a bite or just commune with other anchorless workers for a yearly fee. Think of these like more sophisticated versions of Starbucks, which is of course always another option for taking a breather from one appointment to the next. And there’s a range of similar types of co-working set-ups that encourage collaboration from which business partnerships can be formed. The Twin Cities has a version, called CoCo. 

I’m not ready to invest in meeting space yet but I agree with the advice to get out several times a week to commune with other like workers. Using several online resources, I’ve joined a few groups that I meet with regularly. This past week I met with my entrepreneur group, which was formed at a career counseling company after we were all downsized from our last corporate jobs and sustained on LinkedIn. Only the women members showed up on Wednesday. It was one of our best meetings ever, coincidence, I’m sure!! The give and take was invigorating and heartfelt and I not only walked away with new ideas to pursue for fine tuning my business plan but a commitment to present it at next month’s meeting. Now I have a deadline to meet and I needed that.

Resources for women starting their own businesses that can provide virtual and face-to-face partnering and work teams:

Count Me In - reference sites for researching women's business loans and grants online.
Make Mine a Million is an initiative program of Count Me In, where boldly creative women help each other turn their dreams into a reality via invaluable education, inspiring live events and a dynamic online community.
The Three Tomatoes is a fun “free” e-newsletter that gives you the real skinny on the best of everything in and out of NYC for fabulous, smart women.
Women Business Enterprise National Council is the largest third-party certifier of businesses owned controlled, and operated by women in the United States.
Women For Hire offers signature career expos, inspiring speeches and seminars, a popular career-focused magazine and customized marketing programs founded by TV personality and author, Tory Johnson.
She Creates Change empowers women to create a career where they are fully engaged in life, claim their calling, and making a meaningful contribution in the world. Ultimately we are igniting a movement, compelling women to take action, and blaze their path with passion.
Ladies Who Launch is a new media company that provides resources and connections for women entrepreneurs.
Webgrrls is an online and offline networking organization of professional women focusing on propelling our careers and businesses forward by leveraging the power of women, technology and tools that help us succeed.

Caryl explains: Why I Read the Obits

If you're like me, you read the obituaries in your daily paper or maybe online. Most people look at the ages first. Nobody likes to read about a young death . . . but we do. Older (than us) deaths are consoling. Maryl looks at the causes of death. Not me. The first thing I check on the obituary page is gender, and most days --at least in the New York Times--the dead are men. Surely women died in this same time period too but their lives did not have accomplishments enough for inclusion in the paper of record. They weren't captains of industry, war heroes, politicans (though politicians' wives have a shot), inventors, athletes or rock stars. (Save the tragic deaths. Witness Amy Winehouse whose obit started on the front page.). Obituaries tend to reflect the inequalities of the past: fewer people of color and fewer still women make the cut. So I am always cheered (I know an odd emotion given the subject) when the daily obits include women. Obits, after all, give credit for living, not just dying. 


Last week was a good week. Two women--and get this, from science and medicine no less--were featured in the New York Times: Agnes Varis, 81, founder of a drug company, and Hanna Segal, 92, a psychoanalyst. Varis, the eighth child of Greek immigrants and the only one to attend college, turned her chemistry degree and $50,000 into a multi-million dollar drug company. Her profits allowed her in her second life to become a gadfly and philanthropist. Among the causes she promoted were generic drugs, opera and jazz, and Democratic politics. Several years ago, Varis sent a favorite book to some of the 200 drug industry executives she had antagonized with her endorsement of generic pharmaceuticals. It was a signed copy of Hillary Rodham Clinton's "It Takes a Village."

Segal, on the other hand, was a daughter of privilege. She was born into a cultured, well-to-do family in Poland in 1918. Her father was a lawyer, art critic and newspaper critic. (This being the Times, her mother wasn't mentioned.) She studied psychiatry and literature in Warsaw and when the Germans invaded Poland, she moved with her family to London to finish her studies. Segal wrote five books and numerous papers herself but she is best known for translating her mentor Dr. Melanie Klein's studies on play therapy for a wider audience. Unlike Anna Freud, who used dolls and other toys to help children understand their conscious behavoirs, Klein found the tools useful in reaching deeper, unconscious feelings, particularly in exploring the mother-infant bond. In a rare 1999 interview, Segal described the foundation of her life's intersts: "I read Proust first, before Freud. And I simply realized that there was nothing, absolutely nothing, more fascinating than human nature."

This week, to my surprise, I hit the jackpot in Times obits: A Woman of Color! The headline read: "Jane White--Actress Who Found Racial Attitudes To Be An Obstacle, Dies at 88. White was an actress in Shakespearean and Greek plays who never achieved the stardom she deserved--at least in her opinion. She attributed her failure to her skin color which was too dark for white roles and too light for blacks roles. Like President Obama, she was the child of mixed race parents. White's mother was of black, white and Cherokee origin; her father identified himself as black but by his calculation was only 1/64 African-American. He was a civil rights advocate and executive secretary of NAACP. White herself used have to wear "white face" to play such Broadway roles as the queen in Once Upon a Mattress with Carol Burnett as the princess. Her shame in denying her race led her to retire prematurely to Italy--she had Mediterrean coloring--but returned to her acting career in her 60s. A graduate of Smith College, she explained in an essay for the college's women's history archive: "I'm only 69. There's still time, if my legs hold out. And, if nothing else, bringing humanity to the stage makes a difference in the world."

Why am I drawn to obituaries? In the chronicles of the dead, I often find life affirming lessons and uplifting messages. There is joy in reading about a life well-lived. Sometimes there is also humor, often pathos, but always a sense of community. Remember 9/11's portraits of grief? They put human faces to a mind-numbing terrorist attack. They made it real. If for no other reason, I read obits because they are, in fact, a good read. The other day, while I visiting friends in Rhinebeck, N.Y, I happened to walk through an old cemetary right in the center of town and took the pictures that accompany this post. Many of the dead had served in the Revolutionary war, many were the family members of the fallen. I was struck by the simplicity of the worn stones with only the names, the dates , and perhaps their primary role in life: wife, mother, widow, husband, son, soldier. I was struck that in this cemetary from hundreds of years earlier there was an equality in the modest slabs that marked their graves, an equality that these men and women never knew in life. I read obituaries because they mark our progress as a culture and a civilization, and they renew my hope that we are headed in the right direction where every death--like every life--matters. 

                       

Maryl writes: I won again! A clean mammogram.

I’m “Normal/Negative – No evidence of cancer” as of last week, ten years and running, which is as long as I’ve been keeping the form letters I receive upon completion of my yearly mammography. I don’t know why I keep them. Maybe it’s like a little trophy for a race I’ve won until next year’s competition and Normal/Negative is the gold medal, except it’s one I’m more than willing to share with the entire female population. After all, one in eight women in the United States will develop breast cancer in their lifetime and I’d like to see fewer losers in this event.

Panini Press

Mammography remains the “gold standard” breast screening method but there’s been much controversy surrounding it lately: the age a woman should have her first mammogram, how frequent, and then what method – regular film or digital mammogram, ultrasound and/or MRI? (See the Harvard Women’s Health Watch, May 2010, “Advances in breast imaging”) for a complete rundown of all the breast imaging methods.) If you have denser tissue as I do, you will probably begin with digital mammography. It still involves smashing each breast together between two plates - like an Italian pressed sandwich - followed by a sonogram and anxious waiting in between takes. 

Much of the debate started in November 2009 when the United States Preventive Services Task Force (USPSTF) updated their mammography guidelines. They upped the starting age from 40 to 50 for women of average risk. Average risk means you have no genetic mutation, no strong family history of cancer and no history of radiation to the chest area. The USPSTF also reduced the frequency from one to two years, recommended against teaching breast self-examination but did not assess the other screening methods. These USPSTF guidelines raised a lot of concern among women that their health was being treated more like a political decision and not a medical one. The main issue is the number of false positives that add expense and worry. According to their model, the number of deaths prevented is too small and the possible harm from false positives too great.

Last week the Wall Street Journal (“New Advice on Mammogram Timing”) reported that the new recommendations from the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG) may only have added to the commotion. Their update stated that women at average risk should have a mammogram every year starting at age 40. Although women in their 40s (one out of 1904) have a lower overall incidence of breast cancer compared with older women (one out of 1339 in their 50s and one out of 377 in their 60s ), the window to detect tumors before they become symptomatic is shorter by two years on average. The American Cancer Society (ACS) is in basic agreement with this. A recent university (UC, San Francisco) report on this matter added some new criteria to be considered: starting age and frequency should depend on breast-tissue density, history of biopsy and family history and a woman’s own preference. In the end as the Harvard Women’s Health Watch, February 2010, (“A doctor talks about: Screening mammography”) reminds us “that where breast cancer screening is concerned, one size (or frequency) doesn’t fit all.”

So I’m good for another year to pursue my dreams without that particular kink in my life plans. Big sigh assuming my mild asthma doesn’t worsen – this summer heat has had me hacking, my melanoma doesn’t reoccur - 30+ years cancer-free, my semiannual visits to my gynecologist doesn’t reveal any ovarian abnormalities – my mother was stricken with ovarian cancer in her 80’s. (I‘ve done the BRCA1 and BRCA2 genetic testing and I have no mutations. I kept that letter too.) So I walked out into the sunshine last Tuesday knowing I can make decisions more freely on what I’ll do this year, this month, this week, today, for lunch…….maybe curried chicken salad or a Kobe burger..…definitely not a Panini.


Recap of links:
1) Breast cancer stats
2) Harvard Women’s Health Watch, “Advances in breast imaging”
3) USPSTF guidelines
4) WSJ “New Advice on Mammogram Timing”
5) ACOG recommendations
6) American Cancer Society guidelines
7) Harvard Women’s Health Watch, “Screening Mammography”

Caryl writes: She's got style. And power. And our admiration

I admit it: I have a new girl crush. I am always looking for role models, women who just don’t just look good for their age (don’t you hate that back-handed compliment?) but just look good. Period. And, if a woman can combine style with substance, feminity with feminism, panache with power, well then I am totally besotted.

The woman I admire most at the moment is Christine Lagarde, a fifty-five year old French lawyer and the newly appointed director of the International Monetary Fund. (Yes, she replaces Dominique Strauss-Kahn who is awaiting trial for sexual misconduct.)

Lagarde is our first 2nd life style icon. She’s has a distinguished resume: head of the international law firm Baker & McKenzie and France’s economic minister. She was the first woman to hold both those positions and with IMF, she has hit the trifecta. See her front row center at the recent G20 economic summit in Korea. When asked what advice she’d give the second female economic minister to attend the previously all-male forum, she paused for a moment and then said: “You don’t have to behave like the boys.” Women have an advantage because they don’t have to worry about keeping their “libido and the testosterone” in check, according to Lagarde.

But she doesn’t throw out the men’s wear with the men. Lagarde knows how to rock a little black suit -- whether it's with pants or a skirt. She knows how to accessorize too. She keeps the jewelry simple—earrings always, a brooch or pearls, scarves big and in bold colors, and shoes that allow her to climb stairs as well as the ladder. She often carries big, beautiful handbags --including a Birkin. Lagarde’s fashion palette tends towards black, white, and grey. (At least, that’s what I like her in. She goes a little frumpy in beige and navy.) Great white coat, huh?

And, her eveningwear is quietly glamorous.

She’s not afraid of patterns...

...or baring her arms...

...or getting wet . ..

... or even traffic. (She plans to ride her bike to the IMF offices in Washington, D.C.)

So what makes her a 2nd life style icon? Her style is ageless, timeless, and yes, grown-up. It helps that she is tall and thin and, of course, French. Her number one accessory is confidence. She had the courage to go gray early. Other qualities that all of us second lifers can emulate regardless of our nationality and vital statistics: her perfect posture, her winning smile, her impeccable grooming, and her dedication to fitness. She swims daily and does yoga—and don’t forget she’ll be biking to work now. The divorced, mother of two sons with a big job and a full life is a perfect example of unflappable, casual elegance. And, if you don’t believe me, look for her soon in the pages of Vogue, the American bible of fashion. She was shot for an upcoming profile/fashion story (think Kirstin Gillibrand, Hilary Clinton) last week in her DC office. But remember you saw her first at Second Lives Club.

Maryl writes: “Childhood complete”

That’s what my 19 year-old daughter said to me after watching “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2,” the final episode, last week. She deemed to go to the movie with me because she was feeling a bit glum and wanted to get out. Lana had a challenging first year away at college and is contemplating a year off before returning. Back to that in a moment. We had sat in that same theater nine and a half years ago with a dozen of her middle school friends after a tea party at our home and a white (it had to be white!) limousine ride to the theater for her 10th birthday party (pictures below) and our own little premiere of the first Harry Potter movie. They all grew up with Harry, Hermione and Ron Weasley (Lana’s fav, another redhead) who are off to college on their own or already starring on Broadway and in other films. (Lana met Emma Watson, who played Hermione, on the streets of Providence, RI this year and affirms how unassuming and likeable she is. Also, it’s true Daniel Radclilffe, Harry of course, is extremely shy and Thomas Felton, Draco Malfoy the bully, was the nicest one on the set. Go figure.)

So the three Potter stars are on their way but now to my daughter. Her childhood may be officially over but the maturing and learning are still in play. Despite the vast effort that was put into last year’s tribulations over college applications and acceptances, I would support another game plan as long as we can come up with one that continues her developmental progress and ends with a college degree not too far into the future. Of course, what’s the rush anyway. College doesn’t guarantee you a job and the future you designed for yourself these days. It doesn’t even grant you an apartment of your own upon graduation. The latest statistics tell us that 85% of college grads move back in with their parents because they just can’t find jobs. (See Caryl’s Odyssey II post for her thoughts on this subject.)

Thomas Friedman wrote in a NY Times Op-Ed piece recently that the old career goal of climbing the corporate ladder is over. Now college graduates and anyone looking for gainful employment for that matter must consider inventing their own jobs within companies or with their own start-ups. LinkedIn founder, Reid Hoffman recently coauthored “The Start-up of You” with Ben Casnocha. They advocate a new mind set as well as skill set to compete for jobs of the future. Because of the uncertain and rapidly-changing conditions we do business in today we need to think and act more like entrepreneurs who start companies with no assurances of their chances of profitability. Hoffman advocates experimenting, adapting and taking your next steps based on that learning. You also need to network and be informed about where the growth opportunities are inside which industries and then define a way that you can add value that no one else can. “For entrepreneurs it’s differentiate or die – that now goes for all of us.”

Entrepreneurship is near and dear to my heart you may recall. I can attest to the fact that at least half the presenters doing pitches at the various entrepreneur meetups I attend are fresh out of – if not still in – college. That says to me that they are learning the basic start-up skills while still in school and aren’t being prepped for bolstering the weight of old corporate structures and business processes. Good for them and woe to the rest of us that have to unlearn what we knew as religion - endeavoring to keep our rigid org charts in order, employees appraised and graded and PowerPoints polished. This paradigm shift is not just for the newbies. We all must learn to network outside our immediate comfort zones, attend panel discussions and seminars and keep our skills uptodate. In fact this week I’m attending a web programming seminar for non-programmers with my goddaughter who is just starting her first real staff job after freelancing for a few years and making a complete move from an analog to a more digital profession. My goal is not to become a coder but my businesses are built on the internet and I know those recent college grads will be a bit more nimble than me in getting their prototypes off the ground. 


But back to Lana again. She’s not even halfway through college and struggling to find her place in the world. Maybe she’s already seen that a college degree isn’t all you need to get where you want to be but try to get someone to read your resume without that credential. So she’s looking into gap year programs, part-time jobs, non-matric college courses, internships (more suggestions anyone?) and willing to try new things. It’s frustrating for her and like most young adults she has little patience. But where I think I can help her is with grasping the importance of being resilient. Friedman agrees we need it now more than ever in a climate that doesn’t immediately recognize the value of our individual talents and ideas. Tim Westergren, founder of Pandora, the internet radio service, that just went public, had no luck pitching his idea to over 300 venture capitalists at the start. Margaret Mitchell's "Gone With the Wind" was rejected 38 times before being published. Even J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter’s creator, was turned down by twelve publishing houses and after she found one was told not to quit her day job. So inventiveness and resilience gave us Harry Potter, a beloved novel and music on our PC’s. I guess Lana and I can stick it out a bit longer.

Caryl writes: You can go home again

This weekend I went home for a high school reunion, more accurately the coming together of a group of women who formed a club when we were in our teens and named ourselves “Women of the World” – or its acronym WOW. We came together at the lakeside cottage of one of our members, a delightfully idiosyncratic summer house built by her father-in-law in the 1950s when the American dream was alive and well. On this sultry summer weekend being at a lake in Wisconsin--a state where only last year the Democrats walked out (and into Illinois)--was like being in a time capsule from a more optimistic time.

Almost every house including the cottage where we were staying was flying the American flag. (Red, white and blue bunting was also prevalent.) Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness seemed to be in full swing. Anywhere you looked there were intact families, their adorable children splashing about the water, unworried about the failing education system; boaters and jet skiers skimming the lake unconcerned with rising oil prices; all of them basking in the hot sun and hyper humidity unperturbed about the thinning ozone. The free world with its almost double-digit unemployment, depressed housing market and -- oh yes, climate change (was it really105 degrees?) seemed far away. This was the America I remember growing up in the Midwest. Open another Bud Light, fellows, life is good.

But it was not the post-millennium America I left a few days earlier on the East Coast. Suddenly, I was nostalgic for my youth when life was simpler and the future was promising. I tried to bring it back by reminiscing with my former high school friends. Of the 10 original WOWs, only half were present. (One of us teaching in Japan sent a letter updating the facts of her life post earthquake. Included in the post were delicate paper fans we immediately put to use.) First, we remembered Beanie who had died last October of lung cancer after decades of working as a physical therapy aide in the public school system and with no health insurance. None of us were immune from disease. Among the group's collective health problems were two women with ovarian cancer, one with breast cancer, one with thyroid cancer, one with a brain tumor and another with a debilitating auto-immune disease.

All of us in recent years have passionately embraced Michael Pollan’s mantra: eat food, not too much, mostly plants. Ordering meals out, not to mention grocery shopping for the weekend, was an ordeal: no gluten, no sugar, no processed foods, no dairy. No CHEESE in Wisconsin? Come on . . . . At lunch, at a local restaurant in this farmland community, we ordered chicken. It came with a choice of sides: Mashed potatoes? Baked potatoes? French fries? Do you have a vegetable, we inquired? Oh yes, said the pie-faced waitress. Corn!!! For an extra couple of dollars, we ordered broccoli that arrived swimming in butter. The basket full of sugar iced cinnamon rolls was free.

Back at the cottage, air conditioners blasting into the night, we discussed our lives. Among the five of us present-three were straight (two married, one separated) and two gay. One of the gay Wows had married her partner last month when the Illinois laws changed to permit such civil ceremonies. The other was in a long-time committed relationship in a state that forbid such unions. For the first time together, we discussed such un-fun topics as pensions, and Medicare, and Social Security—things our parents may have taken for granted but were currently at risk. And there were heartfelt worries about our children for whom the American dream was becoming a nightmare. Even with their college degrees, jobs were rare, pay was low and benefits almost non-existent.

On Saturday night, all of us packed a healthy picnic dinner and several bottles of wine and headed to a picturesque site by the lake to hear an outdoor concert that reprised favorite songs from a favorite singer from our twenties: John Denver. It was a beautiful night on the grassy lawn, the lake was calm, fire flies flickered, children giggled, peace and love reigned. The night was still hot. It wasn’t the weather but rather our lifelong friendships that warmed our hearts. In a few days I would be leaving on a jet plane . . . returning to my real life, and a threatening and threatened world. Don't know when I'll be back again. Oh babe I hate to go.