Stacy Horn

Every year my friend Barbara and I go to see Amahl and the Night Visitors performed at Grace Church. All the singers are always great and charismatic, and hearing this music makes me happy. It is the music of my Christmas childhood. It never fails to put me right back into the best memories. I can actually remember being so anxious on Christmas Eve I could barely contain myself. Anything was possible. That is still true, technically. Not even technically. Every night is Christmas Eve in a way.

Two of the kings passing us by as they walk up the aisle.

I watched the movie Spotlight yesterday. I’m still reeling. What I don’t understand is, why are there no priests in jail? Why isn’t former Cardinal Law in jail? I don’t know how to put it delicately, but when he put priests known to have raped children in positions where they would have contact with children—actually I do remember a term I learned not long ago that puts it more delicately—isn’t he acting in concert? And therefore subject to arrest and prosecution?

The statute of limitations for rape is different from state to state, but it’s 16 years in Boston so they could have prosecuted at least some of those priests when the story first came out. I’m not a legal scholar, so maybe they couldn’t proceed with the incidents that were settled out of court, but according to the film many other victims came forward after the articles came out. What about them? Even now, they can go back to 1999.

Also, if this many priests were being shuffled around, and all over the country, (and the world) other bishops and cardinals had to have been involved. Law doesn’t oversee the entire country. And given the numbers, it had to have gone higher than Law. No one could claim that activity of this magnitude escaped their notice. Investigations continued and are continuing, no?

Further, the church not only hasn’t excommunicated Law … wait a minute, have they excommunicated anyone over this? Googling … one, last year. One. And while Law recently retired, he was given a prestigious appointment in Rome after the scandal broke. They excommunicate people for advocating the ordination of women, but not for raping children?

How can the church talk about healing until all the priests and the people who covered up their crimes have been prosecuted and the victims more truly compensated?

With respect to the mental challenge I have taken I will end with: good work Spotlight team. And that is really an understatement. Think of all the children who would have been harmed if you hadn’t investigated this story.

I’m doing the 30 Day Mental Challenge. The challenge comes from author and editor Mitch Horowitz. I’m quoting from the site:

“I dedicate myself on this day, January 1, to focus on all that is nourishing, advancing and promising for 30 days.”

“During this time, I resolve to impose definite restrictions on my thoughts. In thinking of the past, I will dwell only on its pleasing incidents. In thinking of the present, I will direct attention to its desirable elements. In thinking of the future, I will regard every worthy and possible ambition as within reach.”

To begin, a puppy. This is Ginger and she was the guest at a party I went to across the street. The world is better with puppies like Ginger in it.

I am 59. The exact same age as Carrie Fisher. I bring this up because I was at a party the other night where they played a PBS piece I appeared in. It was shown on a hi-def TV that is a lot better than mine and I saw for the first time that I looked awful! My face was shiny, and I have huge pores. I had no idea. I went to Sephora the very next day.

I ended up buying Smashbox Photo Finish Foundation Primer. It says pore minimizing right there on the box. The salesperson assured me it would address both problems, so, we shall see.

Which brings me to my Carrie Fisher story.

I took a film class at the New School many, many years ago. We’d watch a film and afterwards the professor would bring out someone from the film and interview them. One week it was Carrie Fisher. She said something I never forgot. It wasn’t just that the point she made was what I needed to hear at the time, it was the fact that she was joking about it. She was talking about therapy, and she was saying it was great and all, and she was learning about all her problems, but, “Awareness does not necessarily lead to change. Now I get to watch in horror as I make the same mistakes again and again and again.”

I happened to also be in therapy, experiencing the same thing. I was learning about how fucked up I was, but I was only getting the teeniest bit less fucked-up. What else is there to do but laugh about it?

Now Carrie Fisher is getting all this crap about aging, and she’s joking about how her younger self was busy partying to make sure she would look like shit now. I don’t happen to think she looks like shit, but the point is, why do we fucking have to care so much? I’d rather be the kind of person laughing about it rather than the person obsessing about it. Says the person who ran to Sephora for the pore minimizer.

Anyway, Carrie Fisher is in the category of national treasure. Of course, there is a very dark downside to all that partying which Carrie Fisher is more than aware of, buy you gotta laugh about that too. (I also partied too much and paid for it. Oh God, yeah, I’m still paying for it.)

Is this not one of the most serene, relaxing views ever? That’s Northport, Long Island, from my brother’s front lawn. He has a nice little table set up, over-looking the water and with this lovely view in the distance. Wouldn’t you love to sit here in the mornings with a nice cup of coffee?

I was trying to come up with a new way to spend New Year’s and I think I have it, although it is a week long celebration. And maybe celebration is the wrong word.

Here’s how I got the idea. Yesterday I made a phone call I’ve been dreading, because I need access to information from someone who doesn’t want to give it to me. They probably still won’t, but I felt I had to try one more time. After I made the call I just had that wonderful feeling of a weight being lifted from your shoulders. I did it, I’m done, it’s over. It felt so great.

So this is going to be my new way of celebrating New Year’s: make a list of all the things I’ve been putting off doing for whatever reason, fear, dread, it’s something difficult, boring, etc., and do them. What shall I call it? My “I Don’t Want to Do It” list? Then I’ll spend the week before New Year’s checking them off. (I’m in the process of doing this now.)

I think it’s the perfect idea, a thousand times better than making resolutions. Even if you only check off a few items, you’re starting the New Year with a feeling of accomplishment.

I took this walking home, maybe a day or two before Christmas. This is the White Horse Tavern, a famous bar a block away from where I live. I drank too much here on many an occasion back in my drinking days.