New York City Rides

I love to travel and have been to 120 cities around the world, according to one of those games on FaceBook. The city I go most often for work is New York. When I was getting ready to go there to tape again, I kept pushing down this little bubble of excitement that threatened to overtake me. It's been a couple of years since "Showtime at the Apollo" went belly up and I miss it. Jumping in a cab and directing "125th St and Frederick Douglass" seemed like such a thrill for those six years. When I first went to NYC way back in the day, I nearly got killed because I stepped out in a crosswalk, expecting the traffic to screech to a halt like it does in LA. Happily I was with a friend who snatched me back on the sidewalk before I was mowed down. Lesson learned. A little shell shocked, I adopted a method of sort of lurking around corners until crowds gathered to cross the street so I could slip into the middle of the throng and get to the other side. I still laugh at how long it took me to really know how to aggressively flag a cab in Manhattan and catch it so it was going in the direction I needed to go -- but finally I got it. This past Thursday, I left my hotel and walked for a bit and ended up on the same corner by the Warwick Hotel where I'd caught those Apollo cabs all those years. I was smiling when I jumped in the cab and responded to the cabbie's query, "how do you want to go," I said, "Take me through the Park if it's open." It was and away we went, once again Uptown to Harlem. Call me nuts, but I love New York in the winter. Just the day before when I walked out of JFK, the snow was falling as I made it to my driver. Cabs are great in that town, but for certain things, Towncars are better. Airport trips and getting back out of Harlem are two such examples. There are gypsy cabs that you can catch to get back to Midtown, but who knows what you might also catch in one of them. So when the day was winding down, all the cast and crew were heading out, I got into the SUV which has replaced the Towncar as the ride of choice these days and headed for Midtown, my hotel and some much needed rest. A long day's taping, meeting with my new literary agent and the conversation about editorial for a new magazine, left me weary and happy. Los Angeles called my name the next day and after one more meeting it was me and the SUV to the airport. Call me the traveler, Ruth Adkins Robinson.

Super Superbowl

I have to say a lot of screaming was going on at my house today. Me for the Saints and my grandson for his main man Peyton Manning. Superbowl 44 is the kind of game all us loony fans love. There was not one dull moment and plenty of hold your breath ones. Of course, the SuperBowl is the one place where you sit and watch the ads. I played the Snickers ad with Betty White and Abe Vigoda over and over and laughed out loud every time. Gotta say though, most of the rest of them were just ok. I was disappointed in the GoDaddy ads because they play into the fact that Danica Patrick is hot, not that she is a fierce race car driver who routinely beats the socks and pants off the male race car drivers. And damn sitting here writing this, I can't remember any of the others. Does that mean they were not memorable? Guess so, at least to Ruth Adkins Robinson.

For Love of Mother's Milk

Watching the dead and dying, moments of brief heroics, seeing normally stoic men weep at the devastation, I've tried not to break out in tears over the fate of the Haitians. I was mostly successful until today. The story that mothers of young babies here had donated their breast milk for the hurt little ones in Haiti made smile and cry at the same time. When you think humanity pretty much sucks (ok, I live and work in Hollywood) then such things as this happen. 140 small but powerful bottles of relief arrived Thursday afternoon: breast milk donated by American mothers.The bottles are tiny, but full of life saving nutrients for babies suffering from injuries and illness or born prematurely in a disaster area. But after surviving a commercial plane flight, a charter ride, a helicopter trip and two days on dry ice, the milk ran headlong into red tape. Some stupid Navy pinhead complained about the idea of distributing donated breast milk and issued a statement calling it an "unfeasible and unsafe intervention." Mother of God, can it be more unsafe than dying of starvation..or catching some disease because the little bodies have no immunity system developed yet? Does he think junkies are running in off the street gripping their breasts and offering milk? There had to have been some oversight in the collection of these bottles, wouldn't you think? Part of the recovery operation that sits and does nothing while food, medical supplies, shelter and other aid piles up on docks is the kind of bureaucratic atrocity that is often worse than the disaster. It certainly fuels anarchy. And it makes people like Ruth Lavida Adkins Robinson furious. What can we do?

My Brainiac Friend Slapped My Emotional Wrist

One of my smarter friends who lives in Norway, but is an American, wrote: "If I can offer one word of advice, you have to stop loving (or hating) politicians, or judging them based on their personalities. Politicians should be judged by what they do and what they achieve, and whom they serve, not by their personal histories, or their like-ability, or skill at mesmerizing us with dazzling speeches. If American politics is reduced to Republicans fawning over people like themselves, Bush and Palin, for example, while Democrats become ecstatic over "you get 'em girl" Clinton or the inspirational African-American Obama, then the vast majority of this country is going to experience a very bleak future. All of these politicians are personally driven by their own will to power, putting their own political futures above any considerations of what is right for Americans. (Well, Bush may have actually believed in what he was doing as deluded as it was.) In particular, Clinton and Obama, as with so many of their fellow elected Democrats, are complete tools of the powers-that-be, especially what Eisenhower quaintly called "the military-industrial complex" and corporate America in general. The current administration has only continued America's slide into plutocracy (and even worse, the police state).
I am wrong? It is my fault that you are struggling to keep your household afloat, while Wall Street bankers are earning larger bonuses than ever after they just brought the global economy to its knees. Just look at Obama's appointees - Geithner, Summers, Bernanke. Why not appoint Cheney as a good-will ambassador? Oh my, dear Bruce, you've just made Ruth Lavida Adkins-Robinson's head hurt.

Nobody's Following Me

I'm puzzled. I keep getting emails saying they love my blog, but where are the 'followers?' I've done more than 138 posts. I'm told they are well written, wide in scope and interesting. If you are reading this, sign up as as follower and you will get a thank you from Ruth Lavida Adkins Robinson.

Woman's Brains vs Men's Brawn

I was reading today all the hurrah over Kelly Kulik winning the PBA Tour, the first woman to do so and the comments gushed and crowed...now doesn't that prove that women can do anything as well as a man?? No, it actually only proves that a woman bowler can beat the pants off of men bowlers. Make no mistake, Kelly won by 70 pins and if you've ever bowled, you know how many pins that really is!!! But in a championship competition it's just bowler vs bowler, and game strategy , composure and smarts win. There is the eternal argument that finesse can beat out brute strength every time. I believe that wholeheartedly and will say it to anyone, any time. I remember having a conversation at a gathering at Brock and DiDi Peters house back in the 70s with Muhammad Ali and a bunch of other people. Now, readers here know I am a superfan of the Champ. He's my homie, and I always say 'Yeah, I'm from Louisville, me and Ali.' Now that makes what happened that night even a little more outrageous to some and really typical Ruth. We were still a little edgy over the recent bad earthquake here and the conversation had gone to what we all would do if one hit right at that moment. Somebody said we'd be glad the Champ was there because he was strong enough to lift the house up off of us so we could get out. Of course I said, well what if the way out does not depend on who is the strongest, but who is the smartest? Talk about heads swiveling in my direction, complete with real glares. Not Ali though, he just grinned and asked what I meant. I said, what if the house had fallen in on us and you could lift the roof off of us, but I knew where there was an exit door and we could get off without any heavy lifting. Ali graciously said, he hoped that I was around when the next earthquake hits and we all laughed. I understand the realiance on muscles thoughts. I was the number one tomboy in Louisville KY and could be counted on to throw a ball harder, take any dardevil dare, climb a tree higher and jump into anything that required some physical challenge, even when my brain cautioned. That I never listened of course is the reason, I broke my left arm, ran a spike through my right leg, split my head open several times and sailed ass over elbows off my bike half a dozen times to bruises, bumps, cuts and scars. Then I got sidelined by polio and had to rely solely on my brains. I'm happy I did or I might have been a woman's sports champion (not bowling, though)....who knows what the fate of the sidetracked Ruth Lavida Adkins Robinson would have been?

Betrayal Is An Ugly Word

Today I found out in a casual phone conversation that someone I had trusted for a long time had betrayed me. Say the world out loud and it sounds ugly--Betrayal. Roll it around on your tongue Betrayal... it makes your tonsils and teeth hurt. As I heard this friend of mine recount a story that happened a couple of years ago, I got quieter and quieter, my breath was shallow and from the other end of the phone came the query, 'you still there?' Parts of me were, other parts were shattered, beneath me on the floor in fragments. He wanted to know what was wrong and was surprised at my anger over what she had done. After all, what she did was directed at him, not me. Perhaps she didn't think it would hurt me, more likely she didn't think of me at all--collateral damage is all I was. Betrayal is an ugly word. Revenge is a beautiful word and Ruth Lavida Adkins Robinson will have hers.