A long recess.... Leopoldo fractured his foot and I contracted one of those summer colds. Although he was out of work for ten days, I mustered up that old, Yankee fortitude to "carry on"; it didn't work and only prolonged the suffering. Somehow we managed to attend every, important event (provoked by Mamie). The future holds no relief: Parties are now forming (in my opinion, a little too early) that will bind the town to, again, excess. Twist's "Turnabout" party on Sept. 1, followed by Henrietts's 56th anniversary party of being on South Beach the day after at Twist, piled on by another half-dozen events, makes for an early beginning to "Season"
Ah, Nurse Georgette, Dr. Brad, and Professor (of music) Doug. This is the perfect group to go to an opera by Wagner with--one of those long ones. When you pass out from boredom, Georgette will administer eye-drops, Dr. Brad will check your blood pressure, and Doug will order an Italian operetta to pick up your spirits. Strength through planning.
We always love running into one of your "legal eagles", Robyn; funny Leo and Robyn look like they might be a little too tipsy. Must be that cider.
Still, some things have not changed. Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish continues to resort to "chin maneuvers" I invented a long time ago (before I resorted to the veil). God bless, her, though...who else would?

Where does the time go? I have been playing and working way, too hard with Mr. Astor. Firstly, we took the mayor of North Miami, Kevin Burns, on a whirlwind tour of Society in his uphill bid to win the state senator seat; a charming and intelligent man, Kevin was an easy introduction, although I feel his run is vastly compromised by the massive money of his opponent, Gwen Margolis (a political hack from day one), has. Kevin is a piece of work, though; a white, gay, Catholic, he has been elected to mayor by an overwhelmingly minority city. He and his partner of 26 years have an adopted, eight year old daughter. All I can say is that we will try.

Secondly, tonight--Friday--my gourmet pal, Raul and I, will host a special BBQ at Twist. There is no special occasion, other than we want to do it. It starts at six and you won't be disappointed.

Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish had the nerve to enter the local gin hall and waltz by me with her friend from Fisher Island and, then, to start loud proclamations from a point immediately opposite me. I nipped that in the bud by promptly moving my station to her side. This pomposity thinks she has something, now, on me. As I remember it, last Friday a tender, young Latino lifted by veil and gently placed a kiss on my cheek; Mamie somehow photo-shopped it to look like we were sucking each others' tongue's out. This coming from a woman who has done more to bring down proper society in the last two weeks than the estate tax.
Not content with bickering with me in public and fondling Mr. Astor in such a way, Mamie has bribed the local fish mongers to not sell me enough tuna to chum the waters around her, when we do go boating. I have become obsessed with the story of how Nero invented a collapsible boat to kill his mother, Agrippina. Of course, Agrippina managed to swim to shore, which leads me to the totally, logically conclusion that--with her natural buoyancy--Mamie could safely float to The Bahamas and, still, come back to haunt me. My grandmother used to tell me, "Stick with the classics; they will never let you down." Now, I am forced to return to the only, sure thing I know to get rid of a rival....

...the poison ring.

ONE of the many reasons I LOVE Rhode Island

Iconoclastic, anti-religion-dominated, Rhode Island, always has perplexed historians. It was the first colony to declare its independence from Great Britain and the last to ratify it. The Dorr Revoltin 1841 threatened the very entity of the American government by its fight against non-entitlement of voting rites to certain citizens not owning property. It embraced the first Jewish emigrants with the glorious Newport synagogue, while welcoming supposed "heretics" from Massachusetts. It seems, if you were "out of the loop", you were welcomed; if you were not accepted, you were. The great mayor of Providence, Mayor Buddy Cianci (the last mayor I met), was the first to host to walk the Gay Pride parade through Bristol, acknowledging the prominent power that group was playing; he was, and is, a class/political act. Rhode Island is a gem that I always say has "been passed by time".

I was called into work today under emergency conditions at the unGodly hour of 8 AM. (Hadn't they already read that the day before that we slept until 3.30 PM, and body clocks are not something to be toyed with?) No harm was done, though; I am always ready to do something my old, New York buddy, Laurie Ketcham, used to tell me: "Tiger, when you have have to, you get back up on that bloody horse and charge!" No truer words were ever taught to me.

There are still some fabulous (actually, more than a few, in my life) people I listen to. One is the unsinkable, ubiquitous, Thomas Barker.
He will be the Toast of The Town on August 15 at The Betsey Ross Hotel in celebration of his birthday. It seems only yesterday that we met up and bonded with a nuclear-minded aim to have fun; he has never disappointed me, and he stood by me through the troubled times and the best. I know my friends.

Speaking of "friends", I had the honor of running into Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish at Twist yesterday, and she had the nerve to loudly pronounce that she had commissioned a "Chum Belt" for me when we venture out on to The Atlantic on The Wilmerding's boat. Little did she know that I have already purchased enough tuna to feed American Samoa to "chum" the waters around--and, I mean AROUND-- her social magnificence. I was once at the "clothing opential" beach on St. Martin when a lifeguard told a friend of mine to take off his diamond pendant as it attracted sharks; seems to me I have a glistening necklace Mamie would look good in (even if such a short while). She is a dear, though; and, I wouldn't want anything to ever happen to someone so close who has that many photos of me. I, mean, it wouldn't be right!

Who made Jaws?

Probably for the better, the Wilmerdings postponed the boating trip. It is so hot that it makes no sense to go out during the day any more; we both had the day off and stayed in bed until 3.30 PM. This will give me more time to acquire enough tuna to chum the water when Mr. Stuyvesant-Fish jumps off the boat; it will take a great, GREAT white shark to swallow that social magnitude. I went into the pool yesterday to clean the twigs out of the filter and the water must have been close to 90; there is no relief and none of us remember it being this hot and dread this hurricane season. Fortunately, there are several bars around that are, indeed, refreshing and off we head there.

Something has changed. Although I am awake at four in the morning, my chronic sleeplessness seems to be gone. Something happened in January when I had to put KiKi down; I went into a seemingly endless death-spiral, and actually wished for death. For some reason, Mr. Astor held on to me and lectured and promised things I thought were long lost. I really don't know how I made it through these six months.
But, often, you are allowed to look back and see who the friends were; who stood by you as you fell; who were always there. There are many; but, when I stand back and think about what happened in the last six months, there are so many I need to thank for bringing me back from the precipice. Luis and Steven, Mamie, Baroness....they never left my side; I deeply bow to them.

Now, back to business. Mrs. Wilmerding insists that I recreate The Four Hundred as a rule to determine who can really talk to whom. She owns a whole block in Mid-Town and wants to open an establishment for like-minded Society Woman. This being a small town, I believe it will be a multi-tiered system. There will be The One Hundred who constantly know and feel comfortable with each other. There will be The Second Hundred, who really belong in The First, but fight for it. And, there will be the two hundred "fringe" elements. And, Mr. Astor, Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish, and The Wilmerdings love "fringe". There is something about that very word that makes it a happy thing.

My immediate worry is that Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish is threatening to leave and go back to Nashville and take care of her mother. I don't know if I can really, solely hold up the morals of society without her. We have moderated behavior in this town for five years, despite our constant bickering and her fondling of Mr. Astor; total anarchy might soon take over if she leaves.

The Wilmerdings are picking us up with their yacht at the dock in Sunset Harbor on Tuesday; hopefully, I can talk some sense into Mamie then, when she is not land-locked. I can't be left alone to run this town; I need the only person ever able to counter my weight, my social weight, my--as Pearl Bailey used to say--my "social magnificence".