Nine Million Teenagers in Need of a Nanny

The other day I was preparing to do something very important like reading a magazine or watching the Big Bang Theory, when the phone rang. It was a pollster who asked for the youngest male over 18, when he wasn’t available he settled for me. I know most people (with a life) would’ve hung up the phone but I feel that as a Middle Class Manhattanite I am the last of a dying breed and that my voice needs to be heard. I also am not shy about sharing my viewpoints (perhaps the reason for this blog in the first place,) so I stayed on the line.

For the next ten minutes or so, this poor sap with a thick Ozarks accent fired questions at me about Mayor Bloomberg and New York City politics. His questions were clearly designed to elicit my raging disappointment towards our three-term mayor like, “would you categorize him as “bossy, mommy-ish, overboard or….(said quietly)…effective;” “Do you think he should spend the rest of his term focusing on important issues or continue the way he has been going”.  He launched into a series of questions about Bloomberg’s former, proposed and failed regulations. I’m pretty sure I didn’t give him the answers he wanted. Whether the topic was eliminating trans fat, tobacco taxes, smoking restrictions or the much-maligned large sugary drink ban, I voiced my support of our current mayor.

I should disclose that I am currently in school for nutrition and health and I back any effort to help people curb destructive habits such as smoking, and eating too much sugar and fat. But that’s not the whole story. Although the poll dearly wanted me to admit that Bloomberg was running a “Nanny State” and that I should be outraged, I wouldn’t say that. Frankly I think we New Yorkers need a nanny.

First of all, when did nannies get such a bad rap? Didn’t we all love Mary Poppins – after all she’s still on Broadway. And weren’t we entranced by the crafty British caretaker on “Nanny and the Professor” (for those of a certain middle age like me.) I thought that nannies were stern but loving forces of good. With songs or cute tricks they taught us to take our medicine – because that’s what we needed whether it tasted bad or not.

Secondly, I’d like to know why Bloomberg’s predecessor, tough guy Rudy Giuliani, was never referred to as a “Nanny” when he tore down the triple X movie theaters that led the way to the Disney-fication of Times Square, or when he cracked down on “quality of life” laws such as littering and bikes on sidewalks. Weren’t these new policies also hard pills to swallow but – in the end – for our own good? Perhaps politics has something to do with that. Maybe only closet liberals can be nannies.

The more I thought about this, the more I realized that New Yorkers are just a bunch of teenagers in need of a good nanny.  We tend to forget that our government (like our parents or nannies) provides much of what we need – stuff we couldn’t do ourselves – on a daily basis. Because things run pretty smoothly, we don’t always think about schools, bridges and roads, our police, courts and judges, and clean parks. In New York we even have the luxury of free garbage pick-up and snow removal, and top notch fire fighters and emergency medical technicians. That’s not the case in most small cities and towns where you must rely on volunteers or pay commercial firms for those vital services.  We forget that the city has created sophisticated recycling programs, and lured new industry and millions of tourists here year after year giving our city much needed revenue to pay for most of these programs.

 

NYPD on the scene during hurricane Sandy

 

We take these important services, which allow us to pursue our lives, for granted and then grow resentful about laws and regulations we think are unnecessary. Like teenagers, we want the warm, safe house, the food on our table and the clothes our parents provide but cry injustice when we’re not allowed to get a tattoo or stay out late. Those rules are unfair because we think we’re all grown up and know what’s good for us.

But whether you down donuts by the dozen and smoke like a chimney you have to agree that there are long term benefits for the rest of the city if Bloomberg’s “Nanny” regulations work: fewer people will suffer from obesity, diabetes and cancer. We can all save millions in tax dollars for unnecessary medical costs and worker absenteeism.

A good nanny knows that our indulgences today will affect our future lives. If you don’t believe her, just try to get a good job in your thirties with that neck tattoo peeking over your collar.

Preparing For the Zombie Apocalypse

On our wedding day, when my husband, Steve and I stood at the alter in front of our beloved friends and family, I pledged my devotion, my loyalty, my support and to learn to love zombies. For real. Ask anyone who was there.

Steve took me to my first zombie movie when we had been dating a few months. It was George Romero’s “Land of the Dead.” Rich, elite survivors of the zombie apocalypse were holed up in their own gated city living the high life while rebel bands lived on the edge of death fighting each day to make the world safe from zombies.  Sounded like parts of New York City.  I was pretty much hooked. 

Truth be told, I had always had a thing for the post-apocalyptic theme in books and movies. Maybe it’s the control freak in me that would love the opportunity to sketch out a new world order once most of the world was wiped out. Maybe it’s just that I hate crowds. 

How we celebrated Halloween the year of our wedding

 Yes we are a zombie-loving household, but I’ve noticed over the past several years that it isn’t just us. According to IMDB (the internet movie data base,) more than 500 zombie-themed movies have been released since 2001. 

 That’s way more than half of the 863 zombie films ever made.  That list includes mainstream dramas with top stars like “I am Legend”, horror films like “28 Days Later”, comedies such as “Shaun of the Dead and Zombieland,” and even soft-core porn.  Zombies also dominate the airwaves and bookstores too. 

More than entertainment, I have found that this theme has pervaded everyday discourse. I can’t count how many times I’ve engaged in a fierce debate about the safest place to hide out, or what to pack in your “go bag” when the invasion begins, and whether you prefer slow or fast-moving zombies. Just the other day a young friend of mine posited that the smartest strategy was to become a cult leader. I applauded his ingenuity. You can find quizzes testing your zombie war skills on Facebook and hear TV personalities referencing who would be in their survival pack and which weak link friends would be ousted. Seriously it’s everywhere.

Coming Soon to a Theater Near You!

But I didn’t really question why zombies have become so popular until this week. My husband and I were cleaning out a closet and found a box of ammo (don’t be alarmed, he’s a retired cop.) He put it on our counter knowing he’d need to find a safe way to dispose of them. As I stared at the box I had the thought, “you know, he should really take me to the firing range to teach me to shoot before…the invasion.”

I may be control freak preoccupied with apocalyptic fantasies, but they were now creeping  into my reality.  I was aware that this thought was a bit alarming and needed further examination. Why would I, a middle class New Yorker, feel the need to arm myself like some right-wing Midwestern militia member? (not to profile or anything.)

Then I started to think about what I have lived through personally and witnessed via television in the last dozen years. In 2001 I watched two iconic structures that represented my home fall into dust before my very eyes realizing that people I knew, people I had worked with were among that dust. Living four blocks from ground zero, I walk past armed national guardsmen, barricades and gates and cameras on new corners every day. I must make myself aware changing policies regarding what I may and may not carry on to ferries and subways without suspicion. I have been pulled out of security lines at the airports on several occasions because of my last name.


And since 911 I have been part of the global audience watching the aftermath of the Virginia Tech, Aurora, Colorado and Newtown massacres; the Boston Marathon Bombing and foiled Times Square bombing, Hurricane Katrina and dozens of pernicious tornadoes leveling cities and lives in seconds. And this past October I struggled without power for six days after “Superstorm Sandy”. The streets in lower Manhattan were dotted with tired folks wandering aimlessly looking for cell signals and stores with generators. Desperate downtowners cued up hungrily at trucks handing out batteries. Candles became currency.  At night, the streets were eerily silent and until unwelcome sounds of footsteps or hushed voices approached and the fear rose in my blood.  

This is when I feel like I truly began honing my survival skills: cooking in the dark and feeding my less able apartment dweller, gathering water for tepid baths, and walking my dog with a pseudo miner’s lamp on my head and my vigilant husband by my side. I watched some of my neighbors partied and stumbled home drunk and useless (those who will be ousted from the pack eventually) while others shared food, power and good ideas (my future pack members.)

I don’t mean to downplay the experiences of my friends and neighbors who lost their homes or loved ones. That is truly a horror.  I have been more a witness to this horror than a victim. But my point is that the veil has been lifted and I see that my world has changed. And along with it, our collective consciousness and our entertainment choices.

I will continue to love my zombies and prepare for the apocalypse – but only in my head. And at the same time I must take stock of what I have today. And that is a good life.

Just a wee sampling of our zombie paraphenalia

 

The Cost of Eating and Eating Less

It’s been nine months since I quit my job and my sole source of steady income.  Besides eschewing tasty $5 lattes and regular mani-pedies I’ve also begun looking at prices in the grocery store. And I’ve come to the conclusion that eating is a costly business.

This is something I should’ve known before considering I’ve worked for not just one, but TWO – hunger organizations! But as a middle class New Yorker, I never thought to examine why my weekly trip to Whole Foods added up to $175 or more.

I don’t have expensive tastes. I don’t buy fancy cheeses or smoked salmon but even a couple apples sets me back a few dollars. A shocking fact when you consider that these things literally fall off trees!

Yes I’m shocked but it doesn’t really change things. It’s food after all and I’ve got to eat. Ok, I’ll make a few trips to Costco to save some coin here and there but since I don’t have a plot of land to grow my own this is my lot and I must accept that eating is an expensive endeavor.

But what doesn’t make sense to me is how much it costs not to eat food.

One of the other changes I’ve made in my glorious unemployment phase is to get back in shape. Once I made this decision my eyes opened to all the options I had out there to whittle me back down to my “fighting weight” while separating me from my funds.

Before: Rollo helps me avoid exercise

 

Every day my inbox is flooded with offers from gyms, yoga classes, Pilates studios and the like. As I stroll down the aisles of Whole Body I can choose from a variety of “all natural” supplements designed to burn my fat like so many draft cards at a peace rally (geez, did I date myself there or what?!) And then there’s the food meant to get you to lose weight (is it just me or is that highly ironic?). There are shakes, diet fiber bars, diet “ice cream” treats and frozen complete meals. And let’s not forget the delivery plans from The Zone, Jenny Craig and others which can cost more that dinner and a show these days. And don’t get me started on liposuction or other medical interventions.

 

Even if you decide to go old school solo and pick up one of the thousands of diet books and exercise DVDs you’re out anywhere from $29.95 to a couple of hundred dollars and they are just going to tell you what you already know: eat less and move more.

I tell you “they” have got you coming and going. You want to eat, then you must pay. You want to eat less, then you must pay even more. And we buy into it with billions and billions of our hard earned dollars every year. All because we think we can’t do something very simple – albeit painstaking – alone. Or we are looking for the easier, softer, way which unfortunately has never, nor will ever exist. 

Losing weight is a numbers game: you must expend more calories than you take in. You want to lose a pound a week, then you must

have a negative balance of 500 calories a day. It’s that simple. Just cut out 250 calories of cookies or soda or that much-missed latte and walk briskly for an hour or so. And in a few weeks (or months in my case) you’ll arrive at your goal…hopefully. It’s tedious and often frustrating and you’ll get some gentle well-meaning sabotaging from your friends and mothers (“come on, just one piece of candy won’t kill you…”) but it’s free and it will last if you keep it up.

That being said, I would like to report that I have rejected all the costly schemes and products and I am slimming down all on my own, but that isn’t totally true. I – just like those mere mortals targeted by Madison Avenue – felt like I need to buy a kick start or two to accomplish something that shouldn’t cost a dime. So, I ordered a Zumba DVD and downloaded the “My Fitness Pal” app (www.myfitnesspal.com.) Total cost? About $80. I work up a sweat about 45 extra minutes a day whenever I want to in the relative privacy of my own home (my husband likes to critique/support me now and then) and I count my calories (keeping an eye on my nutrition as well – more on that in a future blog post.)

On a "free" hike with Rollo. Dogs can also be good exercise partners

It’s not high tech or glamorous or trendy but I’ve lost about nine pounds in two months and I feel a lot better. I’m aware of my body, my strength and my life force. But perhaps more importantly, I have realized – not for the first time – that change can’t be bought, it’s an inside job. And if that realization saves me a few bucks, well then all the better!