The Inside Press

Magazines serving the communities of Northern Westchester

Cathy Deutsch

About Cathy Deutsch

Cathy Deutsch is a freelance writer, essayist and former restaurant columnist. She is a regular contributor to the Inside Press and to other platforms supporting essay writing. Formerly the owner of Tiger Lily boutique, she is also a private shopping/stylist and closet rehabber.

Peeping Mom

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If you happened to see a figure some 26 years ago hiding in the bushes looking into the window of my daughter’s first day of nursery school, it was me. That was my first ‘letting go’ and I was reassured that she was not wailing as some children were, but happily playing at the sand table. Some might have called me crazy (which I could have been) but I took great joy in parenting this child and only wanted her to feel loved and safe.

I am reminded of a special moment with my dad who gave me my love of horses. Whenever we would take summer road trips, he would always take me to a riding barn for a few lessons and a trail ride because no facility existed close to our home. Mom told me years later that on one outing, I was on the last horse as the group went out on the trails. He swiftly grabbed and saddled up a mount – as he was anxious that I might get overlooked at the end, and so he followed the group to keep an eye on me. He thoughtfully stayed back just far enough away so that I wouldn’t know he was there. I think, in retrospect, that became my approach to parenting: Don’t hover but always be there to catch.

Luckily, I got over the peeping mom period as my daughter grew into a confident girl and played by most of the rules as a teenager. Then college came, and well, you know how that goes. Tears that ran unannounced from both of us were soothed by multiple fun trips to Bed Bath & Beyond. I made sure she had a first aid kit, birth control and gave all the lectures about not walking back to the dorm alone at night and not drinking from red cups already filled. I felt she was safe along the well-lit paths until her first off campus apartment with her besties across from a run-down cemetery. All my fears went into overdrive with visions of zombies rising from the graves a la Thriller or creepy men lurking to grab her (I think zombies would have been safer, I mean at least they could dance). She survived and, better than that, she thrived.

I know I’m a genetic worrier (you didn’t know my mom!), but I think her knowing she could call me anytime day or night or even to talk as she walked home in the dark made her feel she could take risks knowing she could always reach me. I had determined myself to not project my own fears onto her.

College is a huge step for both parents and children. Some kids rebel and let loose, drink too much, or skip classes as they try out their freshly minted wings. Others hit the books and join clubs but, from what I’ve observed, most find their place somewhere in the middle. If I had to name one thing that makes the college years easier it would be having a strong history of communication. Problems, concerns and even intimacy issues can be openly talked about as well as listening to the endless complaints about boring teachers or obnoxious friends. Listening to everything without judgment keeps the door open for when one has parental wisdom to impart or aims to guide a situation that is beyond their scope.

My daughter is now long graduated, finishing pandemic-delayed graduate school, and preparing to be married. The lessons learned about the balance between autonomy and closeness developed during the college years now serve us well. They have helped maintain our great friendship as she still comes to me when she has concerns or just needs to know how long to boil an egg. I figure we have done pretty well – at least on my end. You’ll have to ask her how she thinks we did. Better yet, don’t ask!

Call Me

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Years ago, everybody seemed to be blasting the song “Lean on Me” from the radio 24/7. The chorus repeated, “If you need a friend, call me.” This reprise seems to not have aged well as simply phoning a friend has become an anomaly replaced by the sterile, often misunderstood text.

Don’t get me wrong, I like the simplicity of a text to make plans, share a photo, update a situation, know where our children are, but honestly, I’m increasingly hungry for the human voice. It feels weird to text a friend to ask if now’s an ok time to talk.

My mother used the phone as an instrument and practiced hours a day with diligence and pleasure. Every day she spoke to her mother and sister numerous times, a cigarette and Sanka at the kitchen table, or the phone cradled between her shoulder and ear as she did dishes or polished her nails.

When I became a teen driving to a friend’s house, the requisite call or a “ring once” would be made upon arrival and when I left for home after dark. That would have been a great opportunity for a text. Had cell phones been the norm back then, the clicking of her texting all day, not hearing her voice and laugh filling the house would have been a loss–our home that much quieter and less animated.

Our voices carry who we are in the world and imprint deeply, an auditory image pressed into the airwaves perhaps forever.

My mom did become savvy with changing technology, working her remotes and computer with finesse, storing pictures, cataloging her collectibles, phone programmed with speed dials of family and emergency numbers. I remember a year or two before she passed, her brain a bit foggy, she asked if I could get her “the text”. Of course, I was amused but also impressed that she wanted to keep up. I did not, I admit, get her an updated phone as I knew she would be texting me all day long. As a working woman, the numerous daily calls were enough.

Wisely I kept the recorder from my long-disconnected landline, her messages captured for all time. Sometimes I play them back to hear her loving voice as I hit repeat until the tears fall.

Now bridging two worlds, I worry that we have fallen into an unnatural awkwardness that makes calling someone to say hi uncomfortable. I can’t help but wonder what the future holds as technology fills the generation gap potentially becoming the standard. This was not so just a few years ago when a living breathing voice on the other end gave space for a natural conversation. If one was busy, it was ok to say, “I’m busy, I’ll call you back when I have a few minutes.”

Are we always too busy, or just addicted to the “wham bam thank you ma’am” of a quickie text exchange?

Mental health experts have opined on the detriment of the lack of socialization during lock down on the development of children, but what about us adults? Many of us have had dramatic lifestyle changes due to the pandemic which, combined with the over reliance on texting, further isolates.

I’m not saying I want to abandon technology and all the time saving, educational and organizational benefits, but not to the exclusion of a good telephone call which no font or emoji can replicate.

This holiday, I did a fair amount of soul searching trying to figure out what I needed most going forward into the New Year. Yes, the typical stuff came up like reading more, exercising regularly, taking a trip here and there, but what I really want is more connection.

Though I have an outgoing personality it might be assumed that I’m a person who needs a large circle of friends juggling a social calendar like keeping spinning plates in the air but actually I am anything but that. A handful (and five is just about perfect) of reliable, no nonsense friends to walk with and share an occasional phone call to talk about nothing and everything is more the aching need.

So I called people. Just like Mom did. Old friends, new friends, family and neighbors I’d like to know better. I did not apologize for calling. I simply said, “I’ve missed you, how have you been?” The surprise then delight I was met with on the other end of the call across the corners of this earth was like a long drink of water with two straws on a very hot day.

So now I have created my New Year “New Normal”. I’m gonna call my friends. Be ready, it can happen any moment I get the urge. And I hope you call me too. If you’re already my friend, you have my number.

The Best Mother’s Day Gift

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We are all children of Mothers but becoming Mothers is a life changing experience. Not all women choose to become parents and I totally get the decision to swim against the tide, but those of us, who always wanted to be a Mom look forward to the festivities of Mother’s Day. I always feel loved and appreciated by my daughter but on that May day heralded by constant media pressure, (and I admit my firm instructions that I be honored), required the breakfast in bed tradition, Hallmark card and maybe a bunch of flowers even if picked from the just beginning to bloom garden. Now that she’s grown and flown a first thing phone call and a card in the mail and hopefully brunch pleases me just fine.

I started trying to get pregnant when I was 34 and knew it would likely be my only child and I desperately wanted a girl. I will never forget my Mom (who also had a good and devoted son) saying to me that there is nothing like having a daughter because you will be friends for life, as she was with her Mother. Mom and I loved each other dearly but I will admit sometimes I was not the best of friends as I was very independent and craved autonomy, even from an early age, but still we had a devotion and innate understanding such as the deep kinship we get from our woman friends. As we both got older and wiser and after I had a child, I understood her and the bond of parenthood more deeply and allowed myself to inch closer and was devoted to her till the end and was grateful to have been the person she turned to for comfort and strength. 

After enjoying my professional life, having sated my hunger for travel and adventure I finally became pregnant at 35. As is customary with pregnancies when one is in her mid 30s, I had ultrasound and amniocentesis. The baby was in a position that gender could not be determined. I awaited the amnio results which came in the mail stating that I would indeed be having a baby girl!  I was jubilant but needed confirmation before I told my Mom so I called the lab before giving her the good news. Yes, it was true, and I told her before anyone else and her tearful joy was among the happiest moments we shared together. She was a devoted remarkable grandmother who lived and breathed for this precious only grandchild. This was in fact the best Mother’s Day gift I could have ever given her.

The beauty of this tale is that I do have a daughter who is my best friend. From the moment she came out after 12 hours of exhaustive pushing we looked each other in the eyes like old friends and our profound life of connection started. She was an easy baby, respectful teen and now a remarkable woman of 27. We have rarely fought, think alike, get each other’s jokes, finish each other’s sentences, have the same easy big smile and the green eyes I got from my Dad.

We have laid in bed chatting for hours, dried each other’s tears, watched Pretty Woman endless times, plowed through Gilmore Girls, taken numerous girl trips and shared quite a few Margaritas, arm in arm traipsing through the streets of Manhattan. Honestly, I never imagined the depth of what loving a child could be and I continue to be amazed by the reciprocity of our affection and true pleasure we both enjoy simply by being together.

Now she has a real love in her life, and I have to move over a bit to give them the space to grow their bond and likely marriage and her eventual journey into motherhood. I was nervous at first of losing a bit of her to this new stage, but it has not been the case as we share and talk about the joys and challenges of partnership and our pillow talk is now about men not boys. We still giggle and laugh and plan for the future promising our girl trips will always continue. Oh, and she hopes to have a girl so they can be best friends just like us! That is indeed the best Mother’s Day gift ever.

Fall In Love… with Beautiful YOU

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Every woman has an internal sweater clock that goes off just about now every time the weather gets a bit chilly.

You know the feeling: it’s a sudden urge for cuddly fabrics, cardigans, turtlenecks and cashmere. Tee shirts relegated to the storage drawers, and the ceremonial closet transfer of Summer to Fall begins. 

For women, I think the ritual Fall shopping began when we were young girls doing the annual “school shopping” with our Moms. New jumpers, sweaters and plaid kilt skirts filled our closets, (yes, I know I’m dating myself). Then later as teens, new bell bottom jeans, and plaid shirts. 

When I finally grew up it was the Coat hunt. Camel Hair belted wrap or a classic Black button-down wool. Perhaps its roots are a survival instinct for warmth hidden deep in our primitive selves or simply boredom with summer frocks, but the urge is real!

In my many years having owned a ladies’ boutique, Fall was always my favorite season to buy and receive into the shop. Ordering everything in the bursting of Spring was always an odd reframing of color and fabric, but when it arrived it was always on cue. 

When I first opened shop some 19 years ago my goal was to curate beautiful items for women to take delight in and it was a wonderful feeling to have my choices appreciated. But what evolved was a deeper, more important mission; to help women of all sizes, shapes and ages be the beautiful thing.

Of the many thousands of women I have served, one thread ran clearly through all of our desires, the longing to look pretty…

Sadly, the track that often ran alongside this was of self judgement regardless of fitness or size; the size 2 often asking if her bum looked big or the size 12 surprised when an outfit flattered and gave confidence. All the images we are fed about beauty from Disney Princesses to Movie Stars created an impossible ideal to live up to, and its influence upon us made accepting ourselves as is, nearly impossible. 

I was both stylist and therapist and did it lovingly because I too battled those demons and understood that looking beautiful was about feeling beautiful. 

We learned together that the key to being our most radiant selves was not being thin or having hips straight as boys, it was about wearing ourselves well. 

And yes, I do appreciate the fact that this point of view is from my cultural and racial reality, but I also figure all women have self judgement because we are always trying to be everything to everyone! 

Having had the honor of being like a best friend to so many women over the years, gently coaxing them and myself to appreciate all our curves, or lack of, are the parts I cherish and miss most about my years owning Tiger Lily. 

Telling women they looked beautiful sometimes brought tears to their eyes because nobody was telling them that at home, or saying it was ok to wear that low vs. neck cut because it was fine to show “the girls” off was often like coming out of hiding. I knew I had done my job well when a woman at her wits end found something that made her want to twirl like a girl in the mirror or lift herself up like a movie star in all her glory ready for the world. 

The heart of the matter is that women are amazing, beautiful and strong. And we can be all those things and more when we dig deep and truly embrace ourselves. It’s a journey for sure, and I will be walking the path for all my days, listening for the most real me I can find. And I will likely be wearing something that comforts and makes me feel “classic with a twist”, because that’s who I am.

In Honoring Charlie Watts, an Adoring Fan Relates the Transforming Power of the Rolling Stones

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The passing of Charlie Watts on 8/24/2021 has affected me deeply. It took me many days to find the words to express my sorrow and I still struggle to capture the breadth and depth that The Rolling Stones have had on me for over 55 years. As each person has a favorite song or band… this is the story of my fascination with The Rolling Stones. The editor of this press has graciously invited me to tell my story. I hope it strikes a chord.

Cathy with her daughter Avery at their first Rolling Stones concert together!

I will never forget the first time at 8 years of age in 1965 when I heard Satisfaction. I was in an after school arts and craft class with other pony-tailed girls when the song came on the radio high up on a bookshelf.  A fitting introduction considering that this song is about hearing something on the radio…..

To this day I remember with great vividness how I put down my papers mesmerized, staring at the dropped ceiling panels above the radio. Of course at such a young age I had no idea of the meaning of the song, but I was moved, almost hypnotized by its rhythm and urgency. From then on I was inexplicably attuned to their music. Luckily the radio was always on and their songs became the background of my life as I turned from a girl, to a teen, and eventually into the woman I am today. They, through their music, helped me to define myself, to accept my bigger than the box personality and to embrace my love of R&B, Soul and Rock & Roll. The music and performances of Mick gave me permission to be bawdy, to be all up front, to be sexual, androgynous, and to not be afraid to shake it!! 

As I got older and could go to concerts I saw them in New York whenever they toured. In 1973, my first concert, at the age of 16 when there was no Ticketron, we had to send postcards in a ticket lottery. All duplicates would be removed. With my Stones freak friend Susan (who looked a bit like Bianca) we sent around 100 post cards with the names of all our family members and pets, hoping to get tickets to all New York shows. My Aunts dog Coco, a Brown French Poodle got two tickets. ID would have to be shown at the box office, so I just walked into the library and asked for a library card under the name of Coco Benjamin. When the librarian questioned my unusual name I said my mother was French and named me after Coco Chanel. Score! Two tickets closer to success!! We did by hook and by crook get seats to all the shows at Madison Square Garden where we slowly but surely made our way to the front row every night. It was there that I lost my shoes, and would have lost much more given the opportunity!! 

Mick was the focus of my adoration, and remains a life long fascination but didn’t until I was older, learn to listen to the music as a band and not just the lead singer. When this happened it was  an expanded experience of what had already become my second heartbeat. I appreciated each of them as the perfect pieces that made the group what is considered The Greatest Rock and Roll Band in history. Keith was Keef, raunchy, dark, bad boy playing wild and brilliantly always a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Bill Wyman, then Ronnie Wood–both the bookends that added texture.The former members Mick Taylor, Brian Jones, were before my time. 

Charlie, dear Charlie, was always steady, the inside of the music hidden in the back that drove everything without flash. Demurring, humble, taking a small blushing bow at the end of the show. He was the good boy, a consummate professional, the beat that gave them life. He was a brilliant drummer, primarily a lover and player of jazz, whose ever steady rhythm, kept the band musically together. He was the backbone that let Mick sing it to his primal beat, and gave the space for Keith to let his guitar freak fly! 

In August 2019, I took my then 26 year-old daughter to her first large arena concert in New Jersey. I saw it as her initiation as she has had the songs as her second hand smoke all her life as I play and talk about them probably too much. We exuberantly danced and danced all night, never sitting down once. She even commented upon seeing people seated, “Do they think they’re at a freakin’ James Taylor concert?”. It was impossible to not move. She was mesmerized and fell into the tribal power of thousands dancing and singing under the stars. It was joyous, and remains one of the best nights we have ever had together and we have had many. At the end she said “Mom he’s a freak of nature, I get why you love him so much”. This from a 26 year-old girl captivated by a 76 year-old man. That is the power of The Rolling Stones.

My love for the band will always live on but it will never sound the same. This band of brothers has given the world a tremendous musical legacy. I’ve seen them around 12 times and will unabashedly say they have been some of the most exulted full body moments of my life. 

Contrary to lyrics, The Rolling Stones have given me Satisfaction and yes, I CAN always get what I want.

RIP Mr. Charlie Watts, a brilliant elegant gentleman who gave us a legacy unrivaled.

“We don’t mourn artists we’ve never met because we knew them, we mourn them because they helped us know ourselves.” Author Unknown

For those who would like to see a wonderful interview with Charlie I suggest; Charlie Watts Interview on Later with Bob Costas. Don’t love the line of questioning but it tells so much about Charlies history with jazz and his introduction to Rock and Roll. Available on YouTube.

 Also I will note a small sampling of songs that I enjoy where Charlie really shines.

      Midnight Rambler                 Jumping Jack Flash

      Gimme Shelter                      Paint it Black

      Honky Tonk Woman             Shine a Light

      Rip This Joint                        Wild Horses

      Can you Hear me Knocking   Sympathy for The Devil

 

Cathy Deutsch is a freelance writer and former restaurant columnist for The Country Shopper. Deutsch is also locally known as the founder and owner of the now closed Tiger Lily Boutique in Mount Kisco. She now enjoys her time as a personal shopper/stylist and baker, using lots of Brown Sugar!