tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7201512394889187402024-03-08T15:14:03.447-08:00The Blog of Helen MartinHelen Martin Ippolitohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14280101797361435516noreply@blogger.comBlogger28125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720151239488918740.post-75260721389266229402024-02-25T08:01:00.000-08:002024-02-25T08:01:30.021-08:00Out door coffee <p> Following a meeting, someone said, who is up for coffee? That would be me and three friends--quickly deciding on 'Timbers' - We found a small round table for four just outside the shop. What a delightful moment for everyone. Reminding us all about the European lifestyle of taking time to visit with friends during a busy day, before heading for home. Being energized by the fresh air, watching the outdoor scenes; we were fortunate to have a shy, somewhat fearful to approach, dog, stop by. Our friend, Belinda, immediately got up from her chair and went inside to purchase a couple of small hot dogs. She placed them on the cement a away from us and the grateful dog had her fill. We discovered later, she was a neighborhood street dog; her sister had been captured and placed in a shelter, this beautiful dog was having no part of that! </p>Helen Martin Ippolitohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14280101797361435516noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720151239488918740.post-14056354470207271252024-02-15T10:11:00.000-08:002024-02-15T10:11:30.592-08:00What I Want to Become.....<p> Samuel Johnson, when he died, embodied that old humanist ideal. He had become a person of taste, of judgment and a person of culture. I realy admire him; an essayist, playwrite, poet, one of the greatest critics of all time. I, in turn, have become a top high fashion runway and print model, a published author, and writer. Have I become a person of taste? yes. I admire those I deem admirable in works of art, in sculpture, paintings, and authors. Judgement? Yes. I have the ability to make considered decisions. A person of culture? I have not become a total person of culture. The person I know to be totally cultured was my mother, may she rest in peace, she embodied the cultured life. She was always kind, she visited the sick and the housebound, spoke more than one language, she was formally educated, dressed beautifully, entertained with style and possessed impeccable manners. She was an inspiration and admired by all who knew her. </p>Helen Martin Ippolitohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14280101797361435516noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720151239488918740.post-31338548842561860782024-02-08T08:06:00.000-08:002024-02-08T08:06:25.738-08:00Memories That Last a Lifetime<p>Pamela Stella made such a list that included 'went to school and walked back'. One of my most vivid memories and in all kinds of weather; I remember walking up Main street in the snow and wondering if the water that always settled in the corner lot where I would turn to go on to school, had frozen over, so I could do an impromptu iceskating show wearing my snowboots, which in reality, would be sliding from one side to the other. Several times I almost missed the bell. And after a heavy snow, I remember, Mr Hobbs, guiding his horse, who was pulling a V shapped hand made wooden plow, clearing the sidewalk, moving the snow off to eithr side. Let me know about your memory that has lasted a lifetime.... </p>Helen Martin Ippolitohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14280101797361435516noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720151239488918740.post-71381516659040016972024-02-01T13:19:00.000-08:002024-02-01T13:19:18.432-08:00Cataract surgery is a breeze (most of the time)+<p> For those of you that are thinking about having eye surgery but are apprehensive, or scared, like I was. don't be, please. I talked to so many people that had it done and all gave an easy thumbs up. My sister, and brother-in-law both have had it, and talked about how wonderful it is to see true colors again, it is magical and amazing to read signes, admire farm animals in their pastures on our drives. and it is all true. Had my left eye done first - everything was perfect and was realy looking forward to having my right eye done. so 30 January, be there time: 6:45, saw Dr. at 8:00, proceeder done, come back at 2:30 to be checked. Wait a minute. I have a sharp pain in my eye and there feels like some thing is in it or loose or s o m e t h i n g!!! I am telling this to the Dr. whom I totally trust, and he goes, 'Oh. I forgot to tell you, you had a small leision on your eye, so I removed it, I didn't charge for it. (never mind) I forgot to tell you, I'm sorry, so there is a scratch you are feeling;' he quickly went after a med, and placed a drop in my eye, and I was to continue puting my perscription drops in 3 thimes a day. Well, my eye was blood shot today, so called and said Whats' up with that? He said besides your drops 3 times a day, use your regular drops for dry eye.......3 PM in the afternoon and I am feeling mellow, My eye sight is glorious, and my eye is almost cleared up. So every eye is different. I am telling you this tale, so go ahead and "Just do It' You will not regret it. Happy days.....</p><p><br /></p><p> </p>Helen Martin Ippolitohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14280101797361435516noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720151239488918740.post-61994088722778844512024-01-25T13:05:00.000-08:002024-01-25T13:05:09.400-08:00<p> Camile Thomas asked me to do a photoshoot, and booked Lisa Martensen to do my make-up. It has been a while since I retired from couture fashion shows and fashion photography--we were exausted after 3 hours; had forgotten how much energy I needed, in keeping focus, to 'get the shot'! I was very pleased with the outcome and will use a couple of the photos for my new book: 'In the Wake of Broken Hearts' </p>Helen Martin Ippolitohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14280101797361435516noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720151239488918740.post-84946316852870502512022-12-14T09:24:00.000-08:002022-12-14T09:24:49.453-08:00<p>When are girlfriends of famous boys stop looking at camera, sticking their tongues out??!! 'Daily Mail' called it a sweet post. Are ;you nuts??</p><p>Listen up, everybody.... that stupid gesture is OVER, gone, soooo last year, so never in!</p><p>Stop it - or you will all hear these remarks. </p><p>Dad, " Honey, why are you sticking your tongue out? I've never seen you do that.' </p><p>Mom," Look Honey, here is a picture of me and your dad".</p><p>Daughter, "Why are you sticking your tongue out? You always told us not to do that."</p><p>I could go on and on. I'm sure you get the picture. </p><p>12/14/2022 </p><p> </p>Helen Martin Ippolitohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14280101797361435516noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720151239488918740.post-35136969478277456662021-05-15T12:11:00.002-07:002021-05-15T12:11:31.177-07:00<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My Sisters,
My Mother, Myself <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By Helen Martin<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember how everyone
looked back then—like a photographic image, the way we looked is imprinted in
my mind. Dark hair always falling around our faces; sometimes, held back with
bobby pins or plastic barrettes. Mostly we wore dresses when we played; light
cotton dresses with flower designs—the fabric fluttering and moving around our knees,
tanned legs and arms always in motion…dancing, running, jumping rope in sturdy
shoes with dark socks or white sandals with straps that buckled. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pretty clothes – dressing up –
one of the best things about growing up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I remember my young life in sequences, separated by my next outfit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What I was wearing interwoven through the
drama of growing up in the midst of a vibrant, noisy, complicated, Italian
family cla<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">n, </span>an almost
surreal<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span>performance of full-tilt
three act plays every day; scenes at times resembled a Greek Tragedy marching across
our stage, in another sequence, a hilarious rollicking comedy of errors, played
out by characters so diverse that the only common thread these bigger than life
thespians shared was their ancestry. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The sweet memories dwell deep in my heart; dresses and outfits to wear
to church, to play in, to wear to school—dressing in your good play clothes to
go to the lake because later after swimming all day, there would be an out-door
movie where I would sit with my family on benches my sisters had saved, placing
blankets and towels there early in the day. I remember squirming and shifting
impatiently waiting for dusk to come as it came creeping much too slowing
across the lake, waiting till it was dark enough to start the movie.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Styles and materials from that
far-away place come cascading down through the years, causing me to smile, turn
around, and look. I remember yellow pedal pushers, halter tops, pinafores
trimmed in rick rack, eyelet fabric, smocking, colorful embroidery on white
linen dresses, lavender shorts, black patent leather shoes and too soon; ballerina
slippers for my teens.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Dancing bodies bring a remembering smile of a barefoot ballerina poised
and waiting for her entrance. The Conductor gestures: the dancer, moving to the
music of the great orchestra glides over the cool grass, to be joined by two or
three, sometimes four, similarly graceful ballerinas. Dancing for their adoring
public until the last possible moment, until it is almost dark; they will have
just enough time to collect the overturned bushel baskets, no longer needed as
make-up vanities. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The leaves that fly off and scatter are not given another glance.
Treasures, when the game started, are nothing but discarded pieces of fantom memories.
The leaf carefully chosen for lipstick is lost, check color, eye-shadow and the
large leaf used for powder have played their last show. The curtain falls and
the scene changes. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Later still, or not, I don’t remember, but I remember the dress: a black
and white check dress with a black velvet bolero. Our mysterious Uncle Phillip,
my mother’s uncle really, would appear through-out our lives coming in
unannounced all the way from the east coast, always loaded down with presents.
I don’t remember the occasion for the grand present, possibly my birthday, every
birthday was celebrated in our house with cake and ice cream, presents and
cards but not every birthday constituted a ‘party’, just the ones mom decided
should; “So American” she would admonish.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I remember the moment in the black and white check dress—standing on the
walk in the back yard of my house, that moment in that dress was so vivid: I
must have run out side, stood there entranced with my new dress, just looking
down at it. I don’t remember the rest of the day or how long I got to keep it
on before I had to change into my everyday clothes. “Mommy”, please let me wear
it a little longer. “No”, she said, with her hand on her hips, standing there
in full apron, festooned with straight pins and snatches of thread, she had
rescued from the floor and counter tops. I remember I got to wear it to school
on special days; to church, of course. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I loved the dress with the black velvet bolero—I felt so grown up. My
mother, an extraordinary beauty, charming and elegant had recently finished
sewing matching dresses with boleros for my two older sisters. Kathy and Rosie
were like movie stars to me; sashaying around so free and beautiful, flashing
smiles and laughing at most of life. Everyone wanted to be around them. Popular
and passionate, they strode through their high school years like princesses,
carrying their books and clutch purses, charm bracelets dangling on their wrists,
their polished saddle shoes shinning, leaving a trail of boys in their wake. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I was so shy, they barley acknowledged me at all; calling me ‘Honey’ and
teasing me whenever they stopped long enough to scrutinize me. I worshiped
them. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Helen Martin Ippolitohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14280101797361435516noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720151239488918740.post-54217678693004901512020-07-20T08:52:00.000-07:002020-07-20T08:52:36.465-07:00<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Principals of a Polished
Interview<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Proper Posture<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Conduct yourself with Pride
and Assurance<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Be early; if your interview
is for 10:00 am and you arrive at 10:00 am, you are late.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Company knowledge; Discern
how and why you would be a good fit by<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>studying, examining, analyzing company structure. Know your Company.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Present yourself well groomed<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Women: No – Sandals<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes – Pumps<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dangling, clanging
jewelry<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Smart watch,
earrings, broach, </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">but not a dumb small butterfly pin but an important, smart
broach. Remember this is the time to wear your “good jewelry” as in a beautiful
gold neck chain or a smart pearl necklace, not your grandmothers’ little pearl
job, handed down through the generations, keep that for family reunions. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Don’t do a scarf unless you
know what you are doing – it can be a distraction – ie: wrong color, too big,
too small, does not stay put. Silk blouse under jacket is perfect unless the
jacket is made to wear on it’s own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pant Suit or Skirt Suit in gabardine or
similar “good fabric”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Men: suit and tie – no
exception unless you are applying to be a forklift operator. Then maybe. Perfectly polished shoes – watch – no bracelets and do not, I repeat, do
not<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>walk in with sunglasses perched on the
back of your neck, on you head or anywhere around you – wait till you get
outside. That would be where the sun would be, as in sun glasses<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Skilled in Verbal Communication;
unless you feel this is a strong suit with you then I would recommend taking
speaking, voice and diction classes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Carry only what you will need
for the interview.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Men: leather brief case <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Women: your good leather hand
bag – not an </span><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">oversize</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> statement bag with chains, bells and whistles - and a
leather brief case. Do not put anything on your interviewer’s desk.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Your purse is on your lap, or beside you on the
</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> floor with your briefcase, unless, of
course, there is a table or chair beside you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Upon entering, have your
right had free, in case your interviewer extends his or her hand, otherwise, don’t
initiate a hand shake. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">You are ready: present,
professional, confident and eager to bring your value to the company. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />Helen Martin Ippolitohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14280101797361435516noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720151239488918740.post-27588949805303342212020-07-15T10:51:00.001-07:002020-07-15T10:51:47.634-07:00<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Love…it hurts <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">It is not of sex<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Nor softness of a love song <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">But of power raw <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I saw a bird once<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Dancing in the bright moon
light <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Once more, please, tonight <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">My mother loved me <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Then she died, and loves no
more <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">How am I to grow? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">The rose petal falls<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">A child bends to pick it up <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Turns in joy and calls<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Bitter taste of love <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Consuming my sleepless nights<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">My heart in sour shreds <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Marry me, Oh kind sir<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">A nicer girl, no, not found<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Tis I, your heart wants<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />Helen Martin Ippolitohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14280101797361435516noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720151239488918740.post-25038724854779705722017-02-09T06:06:00.003-08:002017-02-09T06:06:57.150-08:00The Noise Never Stops
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The noise
never stops<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It radiates
in our brain<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">In our ears
and lungs<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Think, say,
do it now<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Make your
mark it’s not too late ~<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And help the
‘Children’<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Wipe out
poverty <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Follow the
rules, make your own<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Be a friend,
be a wife <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Create an
Empire <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">But never brag
about it<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Watch your
step, people see you<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The noise
never stops <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Don’t do
that, this is the way<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">That will
never work<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Bombs,
gunfire, glass, blood<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">That will
work, join the Chaos<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The noise
suffocates<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And drowns
out the birds <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I can’t hear
them, did they stop?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Are they
singing ~ I can’t hear.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
Helen Martin Ippolitohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14280101797361435516noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720151239488918740.post-25933992702961802302017-01-21T09:50:00.000-08:002017-01-21T09:50:22.703-08:00Bad BAD date!
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I am not a
teenager, young adult or even middle aged – I am an older woman, therefore, I
date older men.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Older men
that, I presume, are somewhat worldly, have a little style, and are gentlemen. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Well, forget
that!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have had
some really, really bad dates – like one of those so-called gentlemen tried to
play patty-cake on my bottom…….oh, first date - needless to say – on the only
date.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Bear with
me, please, and let me take you through my all-time worse blind-date. I barely
date and this little story will make it clear, why!!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Why would a
man, who is meeting me for the first time, show up at an up-scale restaurant in
a lavender short sleeve polo knit shirt and khakis?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">You can see
where this will end badly……<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have been
single for a very long time; my husband is deceased – a most charming,
attracting, intelligent guy. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am
attractive, intelligent, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>successful,
dress well, and have a great sense of humor. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">My friends
very seldom ‘fix me up”, in fact, they just don’t, lamenting the fact that
there isn’t anyone they know I would find interesting. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So, maybe it
is my fault, but I don’t really believe that. Let me continue, you decide if
you would ever take a second date with this guy. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Not my
fault, the ‘gentleman’ in the lavender short sleeve polo shirt did not treat me
to lunch, as in pay!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After we finished lunch, we were chatting
about a possible movie date the following week, when I noticed the check in the
little fancy tray was still in front of him. In a few seconds he pulled out his
credit card and just held it over the tray – hovering with it in mid-air. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I finally
said, ‘Would you like to split the check?’ He replied, ‘Okay.’ <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When that
obscene bit of theatre was over, he had the nerve to continue discussing about
next time. It gets better.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">This super
dork watched me as I got my valet ticket out with my $$$ tip in hand. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Oh BTW, I
slept with a beautiful man because he took the ticket out of my hand, leaving
me with the bills – he had already won my heart during dinner when he noticed
my glass of white wine was not chilled anymore, but probably room temperature since
I let it sit too long. He had just poured a fresh glass from the ice bucket for
himself and promptly traded my glass for his – letting me enjoy the chilled
wine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Manners work with me every
time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So…..with my
ticket and $5. in hand, we walked to the front of the restaurant. As we got to
the door before exiting to retrieve my car, he informed me with this (of course
you did) bit of information. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">‘I parked in
the back.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He said something about
emailing me and off he went.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I had
already formulated my ‘Dear John’ letter that I would send off immediately. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The usual:
‘It is not necessary to contact me……’<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have many
pet peeves and one of my top 5 is the following:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Don’t come to the game if you’re not
going to play</span></i><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">There’s
always McDonalds - <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
Helen Martin Ippolitohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14280101797361435516noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720151239488918740.post-38097787376032274122016-04-25T09:21:00.000-07:002016-04-25T09:21:35.552-07:00Love ~ in all its ramifications It is not of sex<br />
Nor softness of a love song<br />
But of power raw<br />
<br />
I saw a bird once <br />
Dancing in the bright moon light<br />
Once more, please, tonight<br />
<br />
My mother loved me<br />
Then she died, and loves no more<br />
How am I to grow?<br />
<br />
The rose petal falls<br />
A child bends to pick it up<br />
Turns in joy and calls<br />
<br />
Bitter taste of love<br />
Consuming my sleepless nights<br />
My heart in sour shreds<br />
<br />
Marry me, kind sir<br />
A nicer girl, no, not found <br />
Tis I, your heart wantsHelen Martin Ippolitohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14280101797361435516noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720151239488918740.post-65124454575941347532016-01-11T07:20:00.001-08:002016-01-11T07:20:29.405-08:00
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">This I Believe ~~<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">My mother was a deeply
religious woman, and never shied away from living and practicing the teachings
of the church. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">For instance, Mother thought it
was a sin to gossip, and therefore, refrained from its dangerous pull completely.
She believed by ‘doing the right thing’ her children would be protected from
unfounded or hurtful gossip from others. She simply believed that.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were so many things she taught us. She
embodied the essence of style and provided us with insight to the principals of
a cultured life; manners, speaking well, art appreciation, reading, playing
outside, singing together and practicing good posture.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">There is one principal that
has had a great influence on me, and has become a personal belief; it’s taken from
a church teaching my mother followed religiously throughout her life,
administering God’s Grace in times of illness, merely stated as<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>–
‘Visit The Sick”, which of course included, the old, the infirm and anyone
alone.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Always on her missions she
would take one of us along; there was never a discussion about what she was
doing, we learned this principal by example - she would just gather up whichever
one of us was around, and off we would go to see whomever was in need of
company, food, or a helping hand. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It is so ingrained in my
sisters and brother that we just do it. Visiting the sick, the elderly and the
infirm is a natural part of our life.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Another principal I learned
from my mother: that of social behavior; the front runner of manners and social
behavior is how we greet our fellow human beings. Simply recognizing one
another as we pass through this tragic comedy of our lives, reassures all of <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>us we are not alone while traversing daily
pitfalls, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>disappointments and indeed our
most joyous triumphs - <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I believe it is our duty, one
to another, to acknowledge each person who crosses our path, be it a nod, a
smile, a wave, and ‘Good Morning, Good Afternoon, Good Evening, powerful words,
easily said, slide trippingly on the tongue. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Manners, behavior, deportment
– Upon presenting my report-card to my mother, her eyes would pass over all the
subjects, I was an A-B student, occasionally the dreaded C would appear, but
the subject line for Deportment, as far as she was concerned, should always
show an A.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Of course, we don’t grade manners
anymore –I mentioned deportment recently in conversation, several adults were
not familiar with the word; a pity certainly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
Helen Martin Ippolitohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14280101797361435516noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720151239488918740.post-79772192131311908762015-04-25T08:24:00.000-07:002015-04-25T08:24:22.459-07:00David BowieA career marked by continual re-invention, musical innovation and I love him so much for his striking visual presence - not to even mention his brilliant mind, and I quote:<br />
<br />
"I'm looking for backing for an unauthorized autobiography that I'm writing. Hopefully, this will sell in such huge numbers that I will be able to sue myself for an extraordinary amount of money and finance the film version in which I will play everybody."Helen Martin Ippolitohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14280101797361435516noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720151239488918740.post-58786781289314007652015-02-24T09:52:00.000-08:002015-02-24T09:52:59.987-08:00I'm Writing, I'm writing . . .No I Am Not<br />
<br />
All day yesterday to write, I have today free to write - Can't seem to put ANY thought or scrap of a sentence together.<br />
<br />
I read Larry McMurtry's essay he published on storytelling for the Texas Classics literary series where he talks about 'the woman' who as a young girl was swapped for 50 skunk hides - he saw her many times as he was growing up - his dad sometimes would give her a ride into town - she never spoke, never uttered a word, just stood by the side of the road until someone picked her up so she could do what ever she had to do in town; 'she lived to bear the trapper many children.'<br />
<br />
The essay is full and rich in detail as he goes on to tell how his grandparents arrived in the vast open empty country to settle and populate the land with children that scattered far and wide. Rich rural stories, we have all read and loved, like ."Lonesome Dove" to name one of about 30 novels. See what I mean - I know, give it up, Helen, take the high road - be honorable - just fall on your sword. <br />
<br />
His '(My) grandparents were - - potent word - - pioneers.'<br />
<br />
I see a glimmer of hope here - my grandparents and parents were pioneers of sorts. Traversing an ocean to reach the land of the free but instead of wagons to reach the far reaches of Texas, my grandparents traveled by train where factories were waiting for the men, land too, precious land that would take years of toil in those factories to purchase their prized pieces of of that rick black loam, because like the McMurtrys - land, owning it - made them free, not beholden to any other man.<br />
<br />
My grandfather and father were business partners, the women were rulers of the house - my mother, was exceptionally beautiful, so young, raised by the nuns in Italy, knew only books, music and fancy needle work. My grandmother, her mother-in-law knew only hard work, raised to take care of the men and children, to cook, clean, tend the fruit and vegetable gardens. The women raised in to two different worlds, one of privilege and one of laborers.<br />
<br />
My mother was beautiful, my father was handsome. My grandparents were the rock and foundation of our lives . . .<br />
<br />
(<i>I won't fall on my sword today)</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
.<br />
.Helen Martin Ippolitohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14280101797361435516noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720151239488918740.post-39979429139409628172014-12-13T09:05:00.000-08:002014-12-13T09:05:46.505-08:00Florence - Written and Photographed by Helen MartinFirst published in the November issue of FD Magazine -<br />
<br />
Florence -<br />
<br />
It's raining, a slow, steady, refreshing kind of rain that wakes up my sleepy self as I hurry to one of my favorite cafes' in the heart of Florence.<br />
<br />
I love the sounds of the city: the glorious church bells that ring out from dozens of church towers, reminding me to smile as I pass a gentleman playing a plaintive '<i>O Sole Mio' </i>on his accordion.<br />
<br />
The cool and sleek interior of Cavalli's coffee shop just beside the signature store became a regular hangout for my morning espresso or cappuccino, and with my morning coffee, I was treated to another unmistakable sound of the city: the clatter of cups and saucers being continually re-cycled as they are washed, dried and stacked. The baristas stack the white smooth china with such flurry and style, design and balance all the while creating symmetrical art displays.<br />
<br />
The whole of this Etruscan city is a museum. The grand palazzos, the expansive piazzas, framed with soaring arches; public buildings designed to endure centuries, architectural elements that dazzle: fountains and sculptures abound; around every corner, another feast for the eyes as one marvels at the changing light playing on the ancient stone. Florence is alive every hour, offering Americans the perfect European street life we crave.<br />
<br />
For years I dreamed of leasing an apartment in Florence. My beautifully furnished one bedroom was on the 3rd floor of the Palazzo Rimbotti, which dates back to the 14th century, each apartment lovingly decorated by the current elegant Countess of the same name. I traversed Via Tornabuoni, which houses Georgio Armani, Gucci, Roberto Cavalli and Hermes which occupies the first floor of the Palazzo Rimbotti.<br />
<br />
Leaving my street and walking toward the Ponte alle Gracie, I pass Salvatore Ferragamo's headquarters, housed in a splendid, ancient, dark brownstone palazzo along the River Arno. I'm on my way to visit the Uffizi Gallery and view one more time Botticelli's "La Primavera". I pass a performer of street art in front of the Prada store--a lone, beautiful girl encased in white--I saw her several times during my walks around the city.<br />
<br />
The sight of El Duomo with its huge dome provided a landmark to navigate the dozens of winding streets. The Gothic, marble facade is breathtaking, Another landmark to guide me: Ponte Vecchio. The ochre tones<br />
of the shops glow. The Pharmacia Antico just off S. Maria Novella on Via della Scalla enchants me. Opened in 1612, the ornate 17th cintury building boasts a tall carved arched entryway, marble floors and fine art lining every wing, each one devoted to a single department such as perfumes, handmade soaps and skin care. A stroll to Via Spiriti offered another memorable uniquely Florentine moment; watching the fireworks display over the Arno, in honor of Saint John, the Patron Saint of the city.<br />
<br />
I visited, jewelry designer, Angela Caputi, knowing full well I probably could not afford any of her amazingly colored pieces. She was in attendance and helped me select earrings for myself as well as a bracelet for my sister, each piece between 35 and 45 Euros. Her couture collection, showcased in the Pitti Palace Costume Collection ranges into the many thousands, but this stunning Florentine artist designs for 'us' as well. I treasure the photo I had taken with her.<br />
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When one talks about Florence, for me, anyway, it comes down to the food, sensuous and sumptuous; one falls in love with its unforgettable flavors. I had a pasta dish everyday - all excellent! If I had to choose an absolute favorite, it would be from a wonderful trattoria along the river; plain large shells, make in house, with fresh, slightly cooked, pressed tomatoes, flavored with picorino romano cheese, a drizzle of olive oil and fresh basil. (I did not add cheese. (I did not add grated cheese. The chef and my waiter approved.) I also visited the restaurant, Boca Lapi, just around the corner from my apartment for the world famous Florentine grilled steak: a T-bone, cooked 'undone'.<br />
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I took a day trip north with my friend, Giuseppe, to walk along the Carrara Mountains, and as I marveled at the hugh marble mountains exposing their treasures, I wondered, did Michelangelo imagine David when he chose a piece of gleaming stone? Most say no. Legend has it, the master discovered his brave David as he chipped and cut the white marble; it goes on to say, the Lord himself touched his hand.<br />
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In Florence, I gazed at "David" and when I could gaze no more, with eyes lowered, I paid homage to his maker.<br />
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Soon afterwards, I said goodbye to the stately city on the Arno.<br />
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Ciao, Firenze - <br />
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eve<br />
<br />Helen Martin Ippolitohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14280101797361435516noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720151239488918740.post-59931629375691864662013-12-08T07:23:00.000-08:002014-02-17T05:41:04.793-08:00<h2>
<span style="font-size: small;">first draft - excerpt from an essay in my book</span></h2>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;">I was profoundly affected by Cathy’s death as were all my sisters and brother. She was the eldest and we all worshiped her, looked up to her and knew her to be a special person, so pure and kind; we would remark that God mixed up his angels and humans one day and sent Cathy to earth by mistake. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Cathy and I lived and pursued our careers together as roommates in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Chicago</st1:place></st1:city>, she in business with a firm on <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">LaSalle Street</st1:address></st1:street> and I started my fashion modeling career as a photographer’s model and runway model. Those were heady days, filled with fun and laughter. The energy of the city was palatable, you could taste it, touch it, feel it all day and through the night. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Chicago</st1:place></st1:city> could easily boast about their glamorous night-clubs. The <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">Rush Street</st1:address></st1:street> scene throbbed and shimmered with world-class entertainers. And the best and always the most fun: dinning in Booth One of The Pump Room at the Ambassador Hotel; restaurants were everywhere. Often, on Sunday mornings after brunch, we would hop on the <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">Michigan Ave.</st1:address></st1:street> bus to meet friends and spend a few hours at the Art Institute of Chicago; one of our favorite go to venues in the city; we loved taking out-of-town visitors to Field Museum of Natural History.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Chicago Theatre on <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">State Street</st1:address></st1:street>—that great street. And there was Oak Street Beach, where the stately Drake Hotel stood to our right, anchoring ‘The Magnificent Mile’, the sand warm under our towels as we gazed out on the gleaming lake, turning our bodies to catch the sun, clad<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in our tiny bikinis,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and always, always on the look-out for eligible young men. God, we were young! <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Lincoln Park</st1:city></st1:place> with its own zoo, within walking distances from our apartments; whenever we moved, we always stayed in the same neighborhood. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, and I remember the ice shows at the Palmer House on <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">Michigan Avenue</st1:address></st1:street>, where mom and dad would stay when they visited <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Chicago</st1:place></st1:city>. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Our father had instilled in his children the love of baseball, but somehow, instead of choosing his beloved Chicago White Sox, we became Cub fans; boarding the steps of the Clark 22 or Broadway 36 bus at Wrightwood, we would head to Wrigley Field, step off the bus and almost immediately, each of us had a hotdog in one had and a beer in the other. I introduced my husband-to-be to the art of baseball and the way of the ‘Cubbies’. He loved his first ever professional football game and then he was astounded at how much he liked ‘authentic Italian cooking’, declaring early in our relationship how he did not care for Italian food. He was ‘American’ as my mother called all non-Italian beings, so how could he know, poor thing. (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Povorino)<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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Helen Martin Ippolitohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14280101797361435516noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720151239488918740.post-58299627634571759742013-09-07T09:59:00.001-07:002013-09-07T09:59:47.744-07:00Jennifer Lopez on the cover of "W"The photo shoot took her back to the Bronx and 'the street where she lived.' Elizabeth Taylor, whose performance in 'Butterfield 8' inspired the photos are- of course - amazing! My favorites are the black and whites - they remind me of the photographer, Victor Skrebneski's work in the 60's. Although that color shot in Marc Jacobs dress and bolero is definitely something to write home about! Helen Martin Ippolitohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14280101797361435516noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720151239488918740.post-62784410673832795302013-06-29T07:16:00.000-07:002013-06-29T07:16:05.718-07:00The Curse of the Three Piece Polyester Double-knit Pant SuitIf you recall, perfectly fashionable women started buying these monstrosities in the 1970's, I know because I was paid thousands of dollars to be photographed in them during my modeling career. All my pictures in those double knits are stunning; accessorized beautifully, photographed in wonderful settings: at a restaurant, in the park and yet, I could never bring myself to actually purchase one. WHY? Because the fabric was not real - it was faux fabric. Fabric must move with your body, feel good against your skin, the bust darts on the 'shell' should fall somewhere around your breast line. It is not a good thing that when one removed their pant suit, there was no need to hang the garment on a hanger, 'Look, I can stand it in the corner!'<br />
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But the worst thing about the look -- most women's derriere hung out beneath the jacket line, and women, if they ever checked themselves in a 3-way mirror, would be horrified. Oh, and because women were ladies, also bought into the control-top panty hose debacle, Oh my Gosh. So the derriere was camouflaged into what? To appear as a shapeless footfall! All femininity was lost.<br />
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And now, another curse has come upon the land. Leggings - I will skip over jeans and just insert this piece of conversation I over-heard. "I finally found a pair of jeans that would fit me." My response would have been, Maybe, just maybe, jeans are not right for you.<br />
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But back to leggings, in reality, the so called leggins I am referring to are not leggings at all...they're TIGHTS, the same old thing we used to wear to our work-outs. A whole on-line industry has emerged, TV shows and infomercials encouraging women of all shapes and sizes to don skin tight 'leggings' and 'just add a clever top.' Are they insane!<br />
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Have we lost all sense of appropriateness, of image and style, of what a flattering silhouette means? Yes, yes we have. <br />
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Helen Martin Ippolitohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14280101797361435516noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720151239488918740.post-53275378443541836562013-06-22T07:38:00.001-07:002013-06-22T07:38:10.491-07:00Somertime and the Living is EasyWhen I think of summer I think of coral lipstick, coral reefs under ocean blue water; I think of a turquoise cotton blouse over a swimsuit and turquoise leather sandals with crystal beads and footprints on white sand. And then I think of the 'First Time.'<br />
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Gently he kissed my lips; knowing it was my first.<br />
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<a href="http://www.thethreadsoflife.com/">www.thethreadsoflife.com</a> Helen Martin Ippolitohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14280101797361435516noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720151239488918740.post-11138440945331078132013-05-13T06:29:00.001-07:002013-06-05T09:20:24.770-07:00Only I can tell my story...Sarah Polley, commenting on her documentary, "Stories We Tell" said, 'That's part of who we are as human beings. We tell stories as well as we can but generally kind of sloppily even when we're trying our hardest."<br />
As a writer of non-fiction, I am always trying hard to recall the scene, see the players, 'listen' for dialog, feel the sensations of the moment, and still I fall short. We sometimes recall truth in a way that the very people in our stories have no idea what we are talking about or did not 'see it that way'. In the end it's our story to tell, we must be brave warriors and solider on, ignoring those editors who tap us on the shoulder as we write.<br />
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Keep writing, my friends, remember that perfect paragraph you wrote this morning - you only get so long to admire it - go for the next one.<br />
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Later~~Helen Martin Ippolitohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14280101797361435516noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720151239488918740.post-88454180025973787012013-05-03T19:24:00.001-07:002013-06-05T09:21:23.123-07:00BIANCA JAGGER - STYLE ICON <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Michelle Persad recently reported: ‘if you look up the definition of “style icon”, we think there should be a photo of Bianca Jagger next to the term.” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I <u>so agree,</u> I checked out her style evolution on line, just to see, one more time, that white wedding suit she wore when she and Mick married. A white fitted jacket, notch collar over a long white a line skirt, and the hat! A stunning wide brimmed picture hat with flowing veil attached – ‘The Lady in White’.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Married in 1971, the Nicaragua-born beauty became one of the top style-setters of her day. I remember another hat she wore in the early 70’s; and was thrilled to see a close up of her wearing the black fitted cloche with a black veil to her chin and the highlight: a stack of snow white feathers attached to the crown and sweeping down almost to her shoulder.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">It was also interesting to watch her transformation from the young glamorous woman to the classic, always beautiful woman she is today.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">She is astounding, maintaining her youthful glamour for decades all through the late 90’s and then watching the subtle changes as she matured into a classic beauty—an interesting evolution of a generous and giving woman, who is known for her philanthropic efforts and ‘good works.’ <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Stylish beautiful, glamorous women like Sophia Loren, retain their natural grace through the years because when they reach their 70’s and beyond, they let <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>nature deal with the years and their advancing age, instead of trying to turn back the clock, which usually ends with disastrous results. And why do younger men want to be with these older glamorous women? Because they are interesting, have tons of stories to tell and as my photographer friend, Carolyn Collins, tells it, they show exuberance, and a flirty wisdom. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">And where am I going with this? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Beauty really does come from within. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>Helen Martin Ippolitohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14280101797361435516noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720151239488918740.post-77889076567280178332013-05-01T20:15:00.001-07:002013-06-05T09:23:54.969-07:00Nancy Smith talks Dallas and J. R. EwingMy invitation in the mail showed a picture of Nancy Smith and J.R. Ewing - The International Society / Dallas-Fort Worth hosted a wine buffet and presentation benefiting The International Society Scholarships. Guest Speaker for the event was, Nancy Smith, author, lecturer, and former Society Editor of the Dallas Times Herald and The Dallas Morning, who gave a spirited talk on the Glamour Days in Dallas. Included in her slide presentation were pictures of visiting Royalty, celebrities and the men and women who were helped usher in Dallas as an international city. Names like Caroline Rose Hunt, Jack and Nancy Hamon, the Brinker family, Stanley Marcus and dozens more. I remember her columns were filled with humor and style, not just reporting on events, but telling us stories about the people who made the news. She has great charm and elegance and it always showed in her writing. My career as a fashion model was part of all those Glamour Days and I loved seeing Nancy's smiling face in the audience, of course, it was always such an honor to appear in her columns, I still have the one where she told about my acting gig on one of the most popular television series in the world: 'Dallas' We're going to have lunch soon, I'll bring it with me and ask her to sign it. Thank you, Nancy - Helen Martin Ippolitohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14280101797361435516noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720151239488918740.post-8369218416284083152013-03-15T18:19:00.001-07:002013-06-05T09:25:52.524-07:00Color, Color, Color Spring 2013I usually start with Pantone Fashion Color Report, and I will get back to that later...<br />
I want to start with Donna Karen's color pallet for Spring because the color descriptions are so, dare I say, colorful; really fun an intriguing! <br />
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butter is pale yellow<br />
coral has a new name, it's passion<br />
red becomes scarlet and Eve is her ivory/pink<br />
light blue is called canvas but my favorite - Atlantic - for a dreamy dark blue<br />
olive/gray becomes charcoal<br />
Jazzberry is a beautiful fuchsia/plum and <br />
Azurite a stunning blue gray<br />
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Colors and combinations of black and white for the new season are key.<br />
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Later ~ for the Pantone ReportHelen Martin Ippolitohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14280101797361435516noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-720151239488918740.post-26636559859147511352013-01-15T07:29:00.001-08:002013-01-15T07:33:41.177-08:00Donna Karan Saves The Day Again<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">At a certain age some women begin to feel the glamorous part of their life is over—Nonsense! <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Women/Glamour <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The two words can’t be separated.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">And I reject the following notions that women tend to fall into as they get older...<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">As in: <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">* Must appear sensible and responsible at all times, dress conservatively, don’t be daring, alluring, sensual etc. etc. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">* You can wear that, you’re tall <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">* I’m too old to wear my hair long…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">although, I personally consider it a worse crime for a first time young mother to cut her hair because she now has an infant… My question: “Is your husband REALLY okay with that since he fell in love with you and your long beautiful gleaming hair?” I’m just askin’. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">* Skinny jeans? Oh, I couldn’t do that<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">*I can’t wear hats<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">* False eye lashes? Come on! <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">* Dresses that actually fit the curves of my body…too scary<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">* Thigh high hosiery for me, for him? WOW <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">* What? Get rid of all my control top pantyhose? Really. What about my tummy? <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Stop it. I am talking about the way your bottom looks in control panty hose. Let me try to explain…to be harsh about it if you stood in front of a three way mirror to check your back side in your trousers/jeans/slacks, it appears as though your bottom is miss-shaped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In addition, your bottom has flattened out and its natural line is obliterated. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Burn them; shred them all, never to cover your beautiful derriere again—<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Donna Karan sheer, toe to waist, panty hose in a nude color if<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>you must have a nude leg look, but do not want a bare leg.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Solution to that tummy of ours: waist cinchers and support undergarments can be found in every store. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Stay well.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>See you next time…<o:p></o:p></span></div>Helen Martin Ippolitohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14280101797361435516noreply@blogger.com0