I have been an actress all my life, becoming professional in 1970. I continue to be a member of SAG-AFTRA (lifetime), The Actors Studio (lifetime), and the Television Academy. I recently did a film in Cannes, “Damien’s Reawakening”, directed by acclaimed American director Maxine Pugh (November 2016). I was a finalist judge for the Television Academy’s 38^th College Television Awards this spring (March 2017). These awards recognize student innovation and achievement in storytelling at a gala that was held this week, May 24^, 2017.  As you can see, I stay active in the Entertainment Industry.   I love it!

Once Steve and I moved to Nice, there were two must-do things on our list – the Grand Prix in Monaco and the Cannes Film Festival.  Last year, we got tickets for the Grand Prix on Saturday, the day of Qualifying. It was great! We resolved to get grandstand tickets next year (2017) for the Grand Prix on Sunday, the day of the Race. We’d wait to go to Cannes. Too much was going on.

This Sunday is the Grand Prix. I will watch it and shed tears and wish I could tell Steve about my day at the Festival in Cannes with Jamie. He would be so happy for both of us. He loved Jamie and knew I wanted time with her. Plus, he said many times the happiest he saw me was when I was acting.  He begged me to continue. 

SO, having waited all my life to go to the Cannes Film Festival, I went!!!  The day was perfect.  I made reservations for the American Club of the Riviera’s luncheon at the Plage Restaurant on Saturday, May 20. When I found out that Jamie and Aymeric would be in Antibes during that time, I invited them to go with me as my guests. It wasn’t Aymeric’ s thing.  Jamie said 100% YES!

SO, last Saturday morning, I was up bright and early putting together an outfit that would be fun, yet comfortable, and doing hair and makeup with gusto – constantly telling myself to calm down. I drove my car to Antibes – Google-maps garbling directions that were incomprehensible.  

Somehow, I found their apartment. Don’t ask me how. Jamie was as excited as I was. So was Aymeric! He guided me and my car into a garage that will be the topic of blog on another day. Don’t know how, but I left my car in their garage (down a car elevator as I continued to tell myself to calm down). Thank goodness Uber took us from Antibes to the Plage Restaurant. 

The Luncheon mixer started at 12:00 p.m. There was a huge turnout. Cocktails of something with vodka. I didn’t dare. Not with French wine on its way.  Jamie and I were assigned to Table 13. Ugh! Thus, I took Daddy’s approach to the Number 13 – it is a lucky number. Everything and everybody at that table – the best! Everyone at the luncheon was older than Jamie (duh). A moment of concern. Would she have fun? No problem.  Jamie’s fun. Everyone at the table found her delightful! So did I.   

Continuing on, the Plage Restaurant is across from The Carlton. I think it is the Carlton Hotel’s Beach Club. I think. I’m not sure. There were sun-bathers (some topless) and guests in beach chairs as well as tables of celebrity-looking people eating lunch. I looked for a familiar face every-now-and-then but found what was going on at our table much more interesting. One couple was down from Paris for the luncheon. Another woman owned a Vineyard – Château des Chaberts – in Var, France.

The Menu: 

• Salade de haricots verts à l’huile de truffes et foie gras
• Filet de dorade, sauce homardine et légumes du moment
• Tarte citron meringuée

Lunch was delicious.  Conversations were stimulating.  Blue skies and warm sunshine.  At one point, Jonathan Lippman spoke about Italian Actresses to reflect the Film Festival poster this year of Claudia Cardinali in 1956.  Very interesting. No one seemed in a hurry to leave. 

At some point, Jamie and I took off to find the Red Carpet. We did a lot of walking and exploring. Photo-ops and gendarmes galore. The police started controlling the crowd around 4:30 p.m. We found a seat in the shade under a tree near the Grand Théâtre Lumière to wait for the 6:30 p.m. screening. Yes, it was a long time to wait, but we thought it was a 5:00 p.m. screening, then 6:00 p.m. screening. But, Jamie likes to “people-watch” like I do. And, there was a lot to see. The Film scheduled for 6:30 p.m. was a 2017 French film, “120 BATTEMENTS PAR MINUTE (BPM (BEATS PER MINUTE)), directed by Robin Campillo. Lots of men in tuxedos and women in beautiful gowns everywhere.

Once the people started appearing on the red carpet, Jamie found a way to get inside a controlled area. From there, we could see people arriving. And, to help matters, there were large television screens showing Red-Carpet activities to onlookers. Neither of us wanted to leave. But, Grandma here got tired. (Sigh.) So, we stayed until we wanted a pizza and a glass of wine more. Plus, master server Jamie (Jamie worked as a server in a sports bar Woodbury Bar outside of AT&T Park (Giant Stadium) in San Francisco during college) knew we should get a table before crowds left the Red Carpet area. 

We found a great little Pizzeria – SAN TELMO – off the main drag. It was on Rue Hoche. We dined outside on pizza and wine, then lingered over expressos – talking non-stop until they chased us away. (They needed our table – long line to get in.) Actually, they were very nice about not getting us to leave sooner. Well……..  I waited a lifetime to do this. Worth waiting for. If the luncheon is there next year, I will go again – unless I’m on the Red Carpet. Who knows, I may get cast in a French or USA or English film that is competing. You never know. 

After dinner, I felt like I had been hit by a truck. We called Uber from the Starbucks at the train station to pick us up and drive us to Antibes. And, true to form, on the ride home, Jamie and the Uber driver Mohammed had a lively talk about how he got to Cannes.

I stayed overnight with them. On Sunday, Jamie and I went exploring in Antibes. Then, after lunch, Aymeric helped me go up the car elevator to the street. Yikes. I took the A-8 home.  What a great memory we made!  A good time was had by all. 

Best, Glamorous Jay

 

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The merry month of May is well on its way over here on the Côte d’Azur. And, believe-you-me, the French take May seriously. May 1^st is a holiday (Fête du travail); May 8^th is a holiday (Victoire 1945); and May 25^th is a holiday (Ascension). On these holidays, EVERYTHING closes – just about. Some restaurants and stores stay open, but not all of them. And, if it is a pretty day, EVERYONE goes outside for one reason or another.

Last Sunday was the first Sunday in May – a day before a holiday, thus a three-day-weekend. Thus, people in the park. No matter. It was early, and all I wanted to do was walk six times around the track, listen to classical music through my Bose earphones, and have a croissant and coffee at the Park Café.

NO. Not to be. The Park gates were locked with security guys standing guard. What???? Was something going on that I didn’t know about???? Duh. Well, it seems that the gigantic Festival that was held in the Park on May 1^st continues! Every Sunday until June. (After that, the locals go on holiday for the summer while the tourists take over. Haha. Just kidding.) The gates were to open at 10:00 a.m. 

Hmmmm. It was 8:30 a.m. I was dressed and prepared to work out. Hmmm. Plan B? Could I do a SeaTrek? Would my knees handle the hill? (I had work done on my knees (long story for another time). Yes. Never say “no” if “yes” is a worthwhile challenge. OK. Trek to the Sea and have breakfast. Find a restaurant on the Boulevard that serves a touristy breakfast of “bacon and eggs”. 

Believe it or not, all went well. My knees were fine. I completed my spontaneous 2017 Spring SeaTrek and had a great day. This is what happened.

WALKING DOWN THE HILL – APPROXIMATELY TWO MILES FROM MY APARTMENT TO THE BOTTOM OF THE HILL (CIMIEZ).

CUTTING THROUGH STREETS TO GET WHERE I WANT TO GO. 

MAKING NOTE OF THIS RESTAURANT TO TRY IN THE FUTURE.

BALTHAZAR RESTAURANT – MY CHOICE FOR BREAKFAST. THEY HAVE OMELETTES!

MY WALK BY THE SEA AFTER BREAKFAST. GORGEOUS DAY!!!

THE FLOWER MARKET – A MUST-SEE WHENEVER I AM IN TOWN.

I TOOK THE BUS BACK TO CIMIEZ AND WALKED HOME BY THE PARK FROM THE BUS STOP. IT WAS MID-AFTERNOON AND PEOPLE WERE STILL ARRIVING AT THE PARK. I WAS TEMPTED TO GO IN, BUT DECIDED TO GO HOME AND ICE MY KNEES. GLAD I DID. 

BACK HOME WITH YELLOW ROSES.  I PURCHASED YELLOW ROSES TO TAKE HOME. 10 EUROS FOR 10 ROSES – FRESH AND GORGEOUS!

A FUN DAY!

BEST, JAY

The original post of Ben Holloway’s pre-existing condition was published in a blog that is written by Debby Prince Kroll, my niece, entitled “Unexpected in Common Hour”.  Ben is her grandson. Let me lay the foundation:

My sister Patricia (Patricia Jewell Prince) and her husband Jack (Jack Prince) have a daughter Debby. Debby (Deborah Prince Kroll) and her husband Bob (Bob Kroll) have a daughter Katie. Katie (Katie Kroll Holloway) and her husband Joshua (Joshua Holloway) have a son – BEN. Ben Holloway’s story involves miracles and recovery, faith and courage. It is still in process.

Debby writes in her post:

“The U.S. is the only industrialized nation in the world that does not provide equal access to healthcare for all citizens. Obamacare expanded healthcare coverage and made it more affordable for many Americans,  but the current Republican-led House of Representatives just voted to gut that coverage.  One of the worst aspects of the House plan is that insurance companies would no longer have to provide coverage for pre-existing conditions. Pre-existing conditions include not only serious medical conditions such as cancer and diabetes but also medical problems like high cholesterol and even pregnancy.  The actual list is quite long.

Many Americans are “up in arms” over what the House of Representatives has done. Bear in mind that the bill also must pass the U.S. Senate, and many believe that is unlikely.  However, I, too, am “up in arms” because our Brave Ben clearly has a pre-existing condition.”

On Facebook, Debby posted the following:

 

“This is what a pre-existing condition looks like. Would you like to tell him that he is less deserving of access to healthcare options than others? Giving him limited access to a high-risk insurance pool is not the same as allowing him to have health insurance!  

Please don’t get distracted by thinking these issues are political. These aren’t issues that need to boil down to voting along party lines. This is about people. Men, women, and children who are more than a label of “pre-existing” condition. This is about people you love in your family. People you see every day at work.  Neighbors. Friends. HUMAN BEINGS. As Christians, as Americans, as humans we are responsible for looking at the people beyond the politics.  

This is my grandson Ben. He will turn 7 years old on Friday but already has had 3 brain surgeries for a vascular malformation in his brain. Those surgeries saved his life, and he now excels in school, plays sports, and lives a normal life.  Our President and Members of Congress should work harder at ensuring we all have the right to affordable quality health care! Every life matters. Not just those the insurance companies deem worthy.  This is not about Republicans. Or Democrats. It’s about people. Let’s not let our politicians and media distract us from that. #lovepeople

(Thank you to Jennafer Eddy-Loving who first stated this so beautifully. I borrowed much of her original post.)   – Deb Prince Kroll”

The original post in Debby’s blog can be found at the following address:

Healthcare in America and Ben’s pre-existing condition

 

I am reposting Debby’s words because this matter is important and needs immediate attention.  I support Debby in getting your attention! 

Best, Jay

I love going out to eat! It’s fun. When I was little, Daddy took us every week at least once. Sometimes more. There weren’t a lot of places to go. During those year, Gainesville, Georgia was a small Southern town. 25,000 – 30,000 people, maybe. We would go to the Dixie Hunt Hotel on Sundays after church. Or, we would go to the Mayflower Cafe on Main Street for Jimmy Carras’ steak and onion rings. Most of the time, we went to the Elks Club for a steak and baked potato. Daddy could go downstairs for a Jack Daniels and water while Mother and I watched for the food. (No comment!)

Did I say – I love going out to eat! Now, good food is important, but also the ambiance, the table, the placement of the table, the view from my seat, the flowers, where I sit, the acoustics, the presentation. Drove Steve crazy. Good food was it for him! For me, not so much. At some point, he would ask me before sitting down if the table were all right, or did I want to move. I have been known to leave a restaurant if I did not like where I was sitting. All he needed was good food. I know, I know. (sigh).

Nice is an entirely different story. I tried to change my table a couple of times and realized right away – don’t do that! I tried to sit at a booth upstairs at Boccaccio, a four-star Mediterranean restaurant, and got punished for the rest of the meal. Oops. Well…., the food was good, but my experience was not so hot. Now, I sit where they put me. Most of the time, I am lucky if I get a seat, especially if I have not made a reservation. I used to hate banquet seating. I feel like I am on a train or something, talking to the people on my right or my left. Here, most restaurants have banquet seating. Now, I love banquet seating (sigh). No problem with talking. Read my phone. I can’t understand what those people are saying anyway (even though I try while looking at my phone).

The best thing to order is the plat du jour (written in handwriting on a blackboard – sometimes out front). A friend here said to do that. Chefs (ALL ARE EXCELLENT!) prepare something special for that day. If I order off the menu, chances are that it will have been frozen. It is very important to eat fresh food. ???? Don’t ask. I now have a system. I check the blackboards – inside and out – before going into the restaurant. I ask for a “wipe” for my hands (don’t know what it is called in French) because a basket of delicious French bread is always a starter. I find a table outside. I even have an Italian cotton hat in my purse for those sunny tables. I don’t mind going alone anymore. No matter. I read my phone.

The food is good. The wine is excellent. The waiters are outstanding. What’s not to like?

The French love to dine. Time out for breakfast, morning coffee, two-hour lunch, afternoon Rosé, dinner. Why are they not all fat? Apparently, they know how to order. I don’t see a lot of hamburgers and French fries. Maybe there are fast food restaurants. Even MacDonald’s has a cappuccino machine.  

My favorite French breakfast is a fresh croissant (ordered before they give out), fresh-squeezed orange juice (available most places), and café Americain (4 sips instead of two). For lunch (available between 12:00 p.m – 2:00 p.m.), I usually go to one of my favorites – Di Piu, Boccaccio, Le Séjour Café, Le Bistro Gourmand, Pastry Plaisirs, Le Bistro d’Antoine, Bar des Oiseaux, Deli Bo, La Voglia, Peixes, Auberge de Theo, among others. Dinner is at home – a bottle of French Cabernet with a salad or fish or chicken. Soon, I plan to venture out for dinner, or early supper. Not yet.  Favorite photos from various restaurants – a lot of which are Michelin Restaurants.  Easy to do!  Hey, it’s France!!!

BEST JAY

The only way to approach French classes at Alliance françaises (“AF”) is to jump in – feet first. Immerse yourself. Wrap yourself in French, like a seran wrap dress. I originally signed up for two weeks of classes, two hours a day, five days a week. First day there, I knew that would be insufficient. I extended the time: one month, four hours a day. five days a week. No problem, or so I thought. Elizabeth was the professor. Students were from all over the world. First week went OK. Second week, more students joined the class, many of whom gave her a hard time. I was amazed at her patience. They irritated the hell out of me. After two weeks, I was exhausted, sick, cold, irritated, overwhelmed with Christmas grief, and stuck in a quagmire. Well, maybe that is an exaggeration, but I did get the flu. I needed time to get better at living life.

Mid-April, I returned to class. Everything was different. My teacher(s) was/were different. The students were great. The classroom was warm. The coffee was hot. The toilette was clean. My flu was gone. The sun was shining. Life was good. My teacher would be “Emilie” (pronounced “Emily”). 

Instead of Emile, “Tara” taught class the first week. I don’t know what Tara does ordinarily (I got the impression that she works in a supervisory position at AF), but for me, she made learning French more fun than I thought possible. Energy galore. AND, the students (from all over the world) were great. Polite, smart, fun. Everyone smiled a lot.

Instead of Tara, “Marlene” showed up Monday of the second week. Apparently, Emilie had returned from vacation sick. And, Tara was unavailable. It didn’t seem to bother anyone that Marlene was teaching another class that day. Somehow, she worked it out. When Emilie did not return on Tuesday, Marlene taught class. Tara reappeared on Wednesday. Marlene finished the week. Sound like a mess? Nope. Everything went smooth as silk. All of us got better. My classmates were the best! By the last day (for me and two others), we were all good friends. Names didn’t matter. Language skills didn’t matter. One day, a group asked me to join them for lunch. That made me happy. I declined.

There were two nuns from India (quiet, demure, studying French for four months),

a young woman from Mexico (lovely long eyelashes who liked missing class),

a fun-loving young woman from Libya (fun-loving and friendly with a twinkle in her eye), Luisa from Russia (beautiful, tall, intelligent, and athletic),

Siavosh from Tehran (a Persian designer and trendy photographer), Peter from the U.S. (an engineer who lives in Nice), two guys from China (intelligent, quiet, and friendly), a girl from China (adorable, quiet, friendly), Catalina from New York (sparkling eyes, warm smile, full of fun), and Sam, from the U.K. (personality galore, a jokester extraordinaire),

Cristiano from Brazil (great personality with big smile), and a girl – I think her name was Marisa, or something like that from Dubai (breathtakingly beautiful and sick the second week).  

None of us spoke French very well, you realize. Somehow, we communicated. We drew pictures and kept our translation apps handy – Chinese, Indian, Russian, Spanish, English. We gestured a lot. Tara did exaggerated acting demonstrations to explain things. Marlene did, too, but her style was different. She spoke quietly in French without slowing down, assuming we “got it”. We had to speak up if we had questions. Otherwise, it was full-steam ahead. NO ENGLISH ALLOWED. I later discovered Marlene trains AF instructors. She teaches the AF teachers. In fact, AF sends her to other countries to train AF instructors. I don’t know what Tara does, but I would think that she works in a leadership position. Both were outstanding. Great teachers by fluke. I plan to go back – maybe in the fall.

During Thursday of the second week, I took pictures during class. We were working on something that I had finished. Needless to say, it interrupted class. Marlene went with it. She let us have our fun. Lots of laughs. Not everyone is here. The two guys from China are missing, along with several others. But, you get the picture.  

BEST JAY

I cannot speak for the rest of France, but the French here in Nice have a unique way of doing things. Duh. Each day has been a learning process. Currently, I am focusing on the following:  1) pronouncing French words, especially the ones with an “r” in them; 2) going up and down a LOT of stairs, especially the ones without banisters; 3) walking to and from wherever I am going, especially when I have taken a train or bus; 4) finding parking lots in and around and outside of Nice Center; 5) finding a tuna fish or bacon/lettuce/tomato sandwich in town; and, 6) drinking and/or eating outside in a down jacket, especially when temperature is forty-eight degrees with wind coming off the sea.

See what I mean? 

Take words, for example. I can read the word “important” and instantly know what it means. I can say the word in French, and it sounds like “am por’ tawnh”. If I say it, I know what it means. If a French person says it, I haven’t a clue. And, they speak fast with idioms galore. So, I am back in class, again, studying French for two weeks – making up the two weeks I missed in January, trying to master what I consider one of the most beautiful languages in all the world. This time, it is better!  I’m better! Yes!  Well, during my three-month absence, I practiced. A lot. I listened to the app on my iPhone over and over; I met a French acquaintance for coffee one day a week for several weeks; I asked waiters to speak in French; I ordered food in French; I requested French menus, not English (most restaurants here have both); and I exchanged emails with a French friend in Paris – in French. OK, I used google/translate a lot, but so what. I am making progress – even though it is going slower that I thought it would. I can now carry on a conversation with a French person and understand what he/she is saying – some of the time. Haha. 

Reading French is no problem. I can read subtitles, magazines, news articles. I watched “Elle” without subtitles and knew what was going on (excellent film, by the way). I can read letters, advertisements, invoices.

Speaking is different. Pronouncing French words does not come trippingly off my tongue. If I try to say a word with the French “r”, some sound comes out that is foreign to all ears. Please take notice, I am working on it. In class and out.    

As far as stairs are concerned, I seldom see an elevator. And, if I do, it takes a while for me to figure out how to use it. Most of the buildings here were up and running prior to that invention. Ugh. And, I never know what floor I need. Is it 1 or 2 or -2, or -5 or 0. Stairs are everywhere – up to the front door, down to the toilette, up to the toilette, up to the dining room, up the hill, down the hill, down to the beach. Hopefully, there is a banister – or, a wall to touch. A wall helps, but it may not be there either. Ugh. Taking the train is a nightmare of steps. Up the stairs to the station, down the stairs to the tunnel to get to the track, and up the stairs to the track. With luggage. That is motivation to fly. (Easy Jet requires you to go down the stairs to get the the bus that takes you to the plane so you can go up the stairs to the door to the plane. Sigh.) Or, take the bus. Or, drive. Or, call Uber. I see people with walkers going up and down the stairs. Amazing. But, if I drive – which I am doing more and more, where do I park? There is no “valet park” around here, at least not at the restaurants. At the hotels, yes. So, I am learning about parking lots in Nice – where they are and where is the entrance and how do I get there and how does it work and is it near where I am going.  Things like that.

Regarding dining al fresco, I have thickened my blood. I’ve had to. The best tables are outside. The shops, Old Town, the Promenade, the Parks, the Med. Weather does not keep the French inside if they can be outside. They throw open the windows, doors, whatever, and heat the outside. The coveted tables are in the sun – summer or winter. Rainy days, not so much, but most days are sunny. COLD, but sunny. All of that changes in the summer, you realize. After all, this IS the south of France.

 

In conclusion, for the record – it is quite pleasant here. In fact, it’s great. Maybe not everyone’s cup of tea, but it works just fine for me. I wish Steve were here – I want him back.  So, here’s to you, Steve, my love! Thank you for 23 years of wonderful memories. Little did we know. Please take notice, I will love you forever.

Best, Jay

The dictionary defines a “stopgap” as a temporary way of dealing with a problem or satisfying a need. That is the way I am getting through this time without Steve. One stopgap after another and one day at a time.

My grieving process is unpredictable. It hits when it hits. When it does, I cry. I don’t care who sees or hears. Well, that is not true. But, I don’t try to stop myself. I just hope this condo has thick walls. Weekends are the worst. That is when Steve and I would get in the car and go somewhere. In Brentwood, Westwood, Encino, Palm Desert. Then, in Monaco, Antibes, Cannes, Ventimiglia.  St. Tropez, Marseille, San Remo, and Paris were overnights. It was fun.

Now, I try to stay busy by creating a project or doing work. I write – jayspeakblog, stevespeakblog, my novel, my blog book, my journal. I take photographs, walk in the park, walk to the beach, buy groceries, do taxes, update my accounts, change bios, clean-out, downsize.  Reading doesn’t work. At least, not yet. And, I don’t watch that much television or go to movies. That doesn’t work, either. 

After my birthday, I went into a funk. I didn’t feel like writing or walking or….  Somehow, I found myself looking for a picture of something – I don’t remember what. I pulled out the boxes of old pictures and – for some unknown reason – began looking at each one, remembering people, seeing places, and noticing things I had not noticed before.  

I remembered Thornton Wilder’s “Our Town” and the speech that remains indelible in my mind forever, “Let’s really look at one another!…It goes so fast. We don’t have time to look at one another. I didn’t realize. So all that was going on and we never noticed… Wait! One more look. Good-bye , Good-bye world. Good-bye, Grover’s Corners….Mama and Papa. Good-bye to clocks ticking….and Mama’s sunflowers. And food and coffee. And new ironed dresses and hot baths….and sleeping and waking up. Oh, earth, you are too wonderful for anybody to realize you. Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it–every, every minute? (Emily)” ― Thornton Wilder, Our Town

It was then that I decided to find and post at least one picture of something I was doing during the beginning year of each decade. The selection process was random and has nothing to do with importance. Plus, most photographs were not dated. Here are the results: (Please excuse the inconsistencies of color and spacing in this post. It was one of the ones affected by my learning curve with wordpress.com.)

 

 

1967 – AT AGE 30!

 

1977 – AT AGE 40!

1987 – AT AGE 50!

1997 – AT AGE 60! – IN Whittier Law School. I took a trip to the South of France that summer and stayed for two weeks in a time share, Roquebrune Cap Martins. I met a friend, Eleanne, of a U.S. friend, Phyllis Lycett. The two of them had been friends in Paris as dancers in the Follies Bergeres. What fun!! This is Monaco in 1997

 

2007 – AT AGE 70!

2017 – AT AGE 80!