I found this website where Joan will be able to marry me off for a specified price. You and the rest of the family could take that dream vacation . . . → Read More: Marry Our Daughter!]]>
I really do find the best material when I’m supposed to be doing homework.

I found this website where Joan will be able to marry me off for a specified price. You and the rest of the family could take that dream vacation to Italy while I clean the house for my brand new husband!

Here’s the link.

Okay, but seriously now. I cannot for the life of me think that this is real. But now that I think of it, I do know a surprising number of “women” my age who are engaged. Well, only two. But at 19, that’s still crazy.

Joan, I’m sure thinking about this makes you want that long relaxing vacation to Italy more than ever…tempted?

I have not told my parents yet. Nor have I told Ross that I’m dying it back to brown. As I . . . → Read More: Doing Stupid Things]]>
So my roommate, Ross Weiner (pronounced Wee-ner), decided it would be a good idea to dye my hair blonde. Sure!, I said.

I have not told my parents yet. Nor have I told Ross that I’m dying it back to brown. As I type this.

Here’s a picture of me and my friend Arvid (pronounced Ah-vid). We were studying (pronounced pro-crast-in-ating)

Joan — have you ever done something like this? I’m sure you have… Please tell me you have.

So much excitement at our house last night.� � Eileen and I went to Hofstra University for the debate.

But unlike watching in your own home where you can gasp, shout, laugh, mock and throw things,� audience members at Hofstra have to behave themselves.� I decided . . . → Read More: Debate Multi-Tasking.]]>

So much excitement at our house last night.   Eileen and I went to Hofstra University for the debate.

But unlike watching in your own home where you can gasp, shout, laugh, mock and throw things,  audience members at Hofstra have to behave themselves.  I decided it was a small price to pay for the privilege of being there.  More on this at joangarry.com

But I needed the opportunity to express some things.  I just had to.  This is where Scout came in.

She was in a school dorm drinking champagne and watching the debate with a group of students (who were, I might add, all registered to vote). I know about the champagne because I was so excited to be at the debate that I called her to brag.  She asked if she could call me back once she left the liquor store.

So we settled in for the debate in Hempstead and Scout poured herself a glass of champagne.  And we began texting.

A few excerpts:

J:   How does it appear to be going on tv?

S:   Well, if McCain were telling the truth at all, he’d be impressive.

S:   McCain is getting nasty.

S:  Obama wants him to look at him

J:  Can’t see. Tall man in front of me.  Probably Republican.

S:  The pin stripe suit is wrong.  Looks like a banker.  Bad to look like a banker.

J   Did he just say “Bresh of freth air?”

S  Obama was brilliant – McCain has nothing now that Ayers is behind him.

S:  McCain looks stoned.

J:  “Cockamamy?”  Did McCain just call one of Obama’s ideas “cockamamy?”

J:  My mother uses that word.   Oh right, she is old too.

S:   Right now, Joe is soooo embarrassed.

J:   Hey – thought Obama’s close was strong

S:  Oh, I’m like not even listening anymore…

So I’m sitting here in class, clearly not listening to the debate we’re having on stem cells. No one in my class if pro life, so it’s a very boring argument. Everyone feels the need to repeat one another. And I hate repetition.

Here’s . . . → Read More: If This Class is Pro-Choice, Then Don’t I Have the Choice Not to Listen?]]>

So I’m sitting here in class, clearly not listening to the debate we’re having on stem cells. No one in my class if pro life, so it’s a very boring argument. Everyone feels the need to repeat one another. And I hate repetition.

Here’s what I am paying attention to.

This is going to be Joan in 20 years.

So, before Joan could post this herself, I decided to take the opportunity to beat her to it…

…And show off on her behalf.

I spent some time this weekend thinking about 81 year olds. Two of them in fact. My mother and the Pope. The Pope turned 81 just this week and my mom turns 81 in May. When I began drafting the piece, I thought it was going . . . → Read More: My mom and the Pope. Like peas in a pod.]]>

I spent some time this weekend thinking about 81 year olds. Two of them in fact. My mother and the Pope. The Pope turned 81 just this week and my mom turns 81 in May. When I began drafting the piece, I thought it was going to be about two different versions of 81 – similarities and differences – and it ended up being a piece encouraging the Pope to get a really fat cat. I have absolutely no idea why I started talking about my mother and her cat AGAIN. It’s when I knew I should walk away from the laptop and come back to writing at a later point.

This morning, I sat down with my coffee and scoured the NY Times website to see just how excruciating the Pennsylvania primary is going to be and lo and behold, I see a headline about the Pope and cats.

And so, without further ado, I offer you some of my own observations about the similarities between my mother, also named Joan Garry and Pope Benedict.

Similarities

1) Both are devout Catholics. My mom goes to church almost every day. Except on Thursday when she golfs.
2) Both of them like to drink. And I’m not talking lemonade.

3) Both of them have been to a synagogue recently. My mom for my kids’ bar / bat mitzvah and the Pope to an east side synagogue to honor the Passover holiday.

4) Both Pope Benedict and the other Joan Garry have struggled with the morality (or lack thereof) of homosexuality.

5) Both my mother and the Pope have a connection to my friend Sylvia Vogelman. My mother has known her for years and the Pope’s chef on Saturday night was a friend of Sylvia’s. She was not at liberty to discuss the menu but did acknowledge that the Pope likes to drink wine. Duh.

6) Both the Pope and my mother have spent time with gay men who sing. My mom has attended a number of concerts of the NYC Gay Men’s Chorus. The Pope spends alot of time with priests.

7) My mother and the Pope both love cats. In fact Pope Benedict is the only Pope who has a biography written about him by a cat.

Differences

1) My mother does not wear big wacky hats. Although in a recent photograph, she looks like she is wearing a plant.

2) My mother has struggled with my sexual orientation and is a lot further along on this subject than Pope Benedict.

3) My mother prefers martinis to red wine. Her martinis are with gin, very dry and she likes olives.

4) No one has written a biography of my mother and I have not heard that one is in the works. If there was, I am quite sure that her cat Babe would not write it.

5) My mother loses her wallet and her car keys with some regularity. I am guessing the Pope has people who take care of these things.

6) My mother enjoys a Sunday afternoon nap and takes good care of herself. The Pope runs himself ragged. My mom watched the Yankee stadium mass and said “The Pope looked exhausted. He had bags under his eyes that went all the way down to his knees.”

7) My mom has a wonderful, neurotic and severely overweight cat that keeps her company and loves her without condition. The Pope only has an imaginary cat named Chico.

For those of you who know my mother or the Pope and can add to either of these lists, you know where to find me.

Hey, this is Joan’s son Ben. I’m the kid who was in my mother’s last post, posing in front of a waterfall. You might have missed the waterfall because of my . . . → Read More: Have you ever wondered why I like Andy Rooney?]]>

Hey, this is Joan’s son Ben. I’m the kid who was in my mother’s last post, posing in front of a waterfall. You might have missed the waterfall because of my muscular build. Many months ago, I was the voice over for a few of Joan and Scout’s videos that you can see if you click here. My mom and I are planning to make a video soon without Scout and you’ll be able to tell that my voice has gotten much lower.Many people ask me “Why do you enjoy watching Andy Rooney on 60 Minutes?” Sometimes I agree that it is odd that I like watching Andy Rooney because most thirteen year olds don’t want to watch an old guy talking about his own problems for five minutes straight.But I do.One night I was watching 60 Minutes with curiosity. Then Andy Rooney popped up to talk about an article he saw in a newspaper. I found him amazingly truthful and not afraid to say what’s on his mind. Another reason I watch him is because I learn many random things that I enjoy knowing.Tonight for example, he was talking about cars at car shows and how crazy expensive they are and how they seem to get uglier every year. I learned that a car from many years ago can travel the same speed as one of these crazy robot cars that people buy today. One other fact I learned was that a crazy percentage of American families have three or more cars.Every Sunday night I ask my parents to tell me when Andy Rooney is coming up. Usually I am going crazy on my Rock Band guitar.Andy Rooney’s an interesting guy and I know he’s really old but I hope he keeps making stories for years. And I hope some day he’ll brush his eyebrows (Joan suggested I write that).

About two weeks ago, Scout wrote a piece about being stereotyped. She is an Obama supporter, diligently filled out her absentee ballot for the New Jersey primary and is taking the politics business seriously. Her post, Nobody Puts Baby, or Barack in the . . . → Read More: Huff Post readers weigh in on Scout’s post]]>

About two weeks ago, Scout wrote a piece about being stereotyped. She is an Obama supporter, diligently filled out her absentee ballot for the New Jersey primary and is taking the politics business seriously. Her post, Nobody Puts Baby, or Barack in the Corner, is a smart and provocative piece. And yes, I am her mother and have no ability to be objective.

The Huffington Post liked the piece as well and published it that same day. Within an hour, Scout had well over 100 reactions. I found myself kvelling.

So in the true spirit of kvelling, I offer you some excerpts of the comments she received.

I’m 66 years old. I’m proud to see young people engaged in the political process. You are the future of America. (Note: clearly this woman has not been in Scout’s room recently)

Once you’ve been around for a while and had your head handed to you in a basket over and over again by the likes of Delay, Rove, Limbaugh and the like, then maybe you’ll understand why the old farts don’t fall for the big talk anymore (Note: spoken like a true old fart)

A menopause joke? Could people over 40 be dismissive of the youngsers because the young think the world was created the day you were born (Note: crabby author. Hot flash maybe?)

I’ve been teaching for 25 years and I think this is an exceptional piece of work. You’d get an A in my class. (Note: Where were you when Scout was in 11th grade?)

Submit this piece to the NY Times, WSJ, WashPo, LATimes and USAToday and see if anyone has the integrity to bite (Note: please forward contact info for these pubs to comments @whosthegrownup.com. I’m banking on Scout’s notoriety to ensure my early retirement)

I can count on one hand the blogs posted on HuffPo over the last four months that were worth reading and yours is one (Note: what? You didn’t like the one I wrote about Oprah’s Big Give)?

The comments go on and on for pages. Scout read them all and learned alot. She learned that she touched a chord with a lot of people. She also learned that some people are very, very touchy about menopause.