I ran away from home in 2019 after suffering severe grief, had to leave my hometown of San Francisco and get a fresh start to my life. IT WAS NOT EASY. But, I persevered, got a job with USPS and I now have my own VERY EXPENSIVE apartment. My world is shaping and forming and moving forward. As for how I got featured in a commercial? Well…
Sometime mid 2022 I answered an email from work about being in a commercial. I thought it was a USPS training video, but turned out to be a national commercial! I did not get to speak, I’m not even sure if my face will be shown, but the contract states I am a “principal” and it enables me to join SAG/Aftra.
I had always wanted to be an actor way back a thousand or so years ago when I was a young girl I even studied acting at Conservatory. But, my dreams were deferred – I have worked since I was 13 years old, it is all I have ever known.
At my age now, hell life is too precious not to take leaps of faith. Oh, I will keep my job with USPS, let’s face it, rent and eggs are very high right now. Matter of fact I changed my position from bussing to and from work for almost three very long and physically painful years to working from home for USPS next month. Being at home will help me focus on not just the ole 9-2-5, but on joining the Union and spring boarding from there. Maybe I will become a commercial spokesperson or something, who knows?
So, for now I feel blessed. And as some folks say, God is good. No disrespect to any Deity, but I would like to think my late mother is helping me along. Never give up on your dreams, right? So, here we go!
I have come to realize that I am resilient, tougher than I could ever imagine and determined to have the life I deserve. That being stated I have not been on my blog because I am, as most of us are, navigating life in this tough economy. We all are doing what we can to catch up. For me, catching up means I am grateful to have found creating activity books as a means for an extra income. I actually created a children’s coloring book, me!
The sound of crunching leaves beneath my bare feet,
The smell of fresh bread from a nearby bakery,
The beauty in life could not shake
what lurked above and beyond the clouds, I spoke out loud as I wrote.
He rolled over, annoyed.
“What’re you doing? Why aren’t you sleeping?”
“Can’t sleep. I wonder, why am I here and when will it be MY turn to leave?”
“Life is so short, there is so much going on, it’s hard to find a light at the end of the tunnel.”
“It’s not hard. Just write something cheerful then go to bed.”
“That won’t help.”
“You’re annoyingly optimistic.”
“That’s me. How ‘bout a martini?”
“You know I don’t drink when I’m worried or sad. Besides, I’m out of vodka.”
“Just write something positive. Something that’ll cheer you up.”
“Fine. Roses are red, violets are blue. I’m sick of wearing masks, vaccines, innocent people being attacked and killed for no reason, and I am tired of uncertainty. How the hell are YOU?”
“Funny.” He whispered then he buried his head into his pillow. Seconds later, “Did I ever tell you the story about the Depressed Tree?” His voice was muffled underneath his pillow.
“What?” I was annoyed. “A what? A Depressed Tree?”
Last week I went to CVS, I think I was going to CVS.”
“You “think? You sure you were at CVS and not some old girlfriend’s house?”
He heaved a strong sigh. “Yup, that’s exactly where I was, at my old girlfriend’s house, the one before I met you. Actually, she was my first love. I went to her house and before you knew it we had a secret wedding and we’re expecting our first child this year. I’m excited.” The smart-ass smiled.
“Fool boy, what the hell is a ‘depressed tree?’
“Okay…” He sat up in bed. “…So, I was at CVS and at the corner there are these huge trees. Well, one of them broke apart, maybe a quarter way from the base of the trunk it broke off. It smashed open a parking meter.”
“So, I looked at it and thought it might be depressed, you know? It split apart and fell in empathy to what we humans are enduring in this current environment.
I squinted at him. “Are you drunk?
“You know I don’t drink. But, I think what I saw was a metaphor, know what I’m saying? The trunk split and fell over, it broke apart in empathy of our current modlin situation. It exposed its soft, yellow splintery slivers that looked like the inside of a mango, to empathize with humans that it is as tired of this world right now as we all are. It’s a depressed tree.”
“Sir…” I squinted my eyes again at him and groaned. “…What the fuck kind of story…trees don’t get depressed, they’re not human.”
“Well, if I was a tree I’d be empathetic to what humans are currently dealing with. I would have done what that tree did. I believe trees are emotional, they have feelings.”
“Okay fine. Take me to the liquor store, we’re out of Vodka and olives. I’ll drink my martini and you’ll blaze up for all the empathetic trees in honor of us humans. How’s that sound?”
“I’ll get my coat.” He replied.
This blog post is dedicated to the victims of Buffalo , N.Y. 2022 and to ALL victims of senseless crimes perpetrated by soul-less tragic individuals.
As of December 26, 2020 I am Covid-free, have a job, roof over my head, new friends and new hope. I plan to remain Covid-free until the clock strikes 12:01 tomorrow night and many more years after. I will stay home and literally focus my tired eyeballs on my clock until the last tick toks its way into 2021.
Lets all flush the disastrous last four political years and look forward to getting our lives back with a prosperous, happy and healthy future! LDS
There are no words to share with any of you tonight that would sum up the lovely woman who called me “friend” for more than a decade. We had many discussions, we laughed and she tried to get me to dance at one of her nighttime music fests. I cannot give this woman enough credit, she was an inspiration to me, and one of the people who talked me into going solo to Paris in 2009. I can only wish that I could have been a light for Sylvie in her supreme darkest hour.
Sylvie Le Mer, a Brittany, France native, was a profoundly spirited and loving woman, a talented and head strong businesswoman, she was sole owner of Ti Couz Crepery in San Francisco for 19 years, (at 16th and Valencia). Whatever darkness she faced, she chose to find the light at the end of a very painful tunnel and transition to a better horizon in her own way the evening of October 24, 2020. My heart is broken, but I accept Sylvie’s transition and I will hold her in my heart always.
Thank you for introducing me to the many great people who worked at or visited Ti Couz! Rest in splendid peace, my dear.
2002 was a tough year for me. My mother was diagnosed with Dementia and Parkinson’s and I found a cute 1-bedroom, rent-controlled apartment, but had a hard time moving in – owners/landlords did not want to rent to me. But, I persevered and lived at the The Alturas for 17 years, more than proving myself a worthy tenant.
The Alturas is a cozy 1910 Edwardian at 3116 16th Street located in the Mission district of my hometown of San Francisco, Ca. It sits above what is now Giordano Brothers and a current corner grocery store that was once a Wells Fargo bank. ( The design of the ceiling at the current corner store is the same in all Wells Fargo banks.)
I lived above Ti Couz Crepery long after it was considered one of the hottest places in the Mission. You could not get into the place back in the day, lines were around the block. By the 2000s, Ti Couz and many other sole proprietorships and “moms and pops” businesses were suffering financially, times were changing.
May, 2007, four years before Sylvie was forced to surrender her business, I held a staged reading of a book of poetry that I wrote about my mother, Courage, Strength, Faith, at Intersection for the Arts Theatre which was around the corner from where I lived. When I first noticed Sylvie, I rarely spoke to her, she was always bustling and busy with her business. When we did speak she was very sweet. Sylvie was nice and unpretentious. I mentioned about my reading.
“Oh, you’re a writer!”
“Well, I call myself a writer. I majored in Psychology.”
“Well, if you know people then you know we love to celebrate. You will need bottles of bubbly for your event.” Sylvie said with a bright smile.
“Oh. Well, how much will that be?” I sheepishly asked. I was working for the city at the time and was my mother’s power of Attorney. Every dime I had, including mom’s retirement money went into her private assisted living care.
“For you, my Lorrie, nothing, nothing! You are doing something wonderful for your dear mother and you will need to have bubbly!”
Sylvie sang her words. I will never forget how she acted like my event was the cure all to end all, like I was Toni Morrison having a soiree and Sylvie was the caterer. And to make it even more generous, one of Sylvie’s long-term staff, Miguel Flores, whom I had come to know as a very kind, humorous man, helped wheel the liquor around the corner to the theater. Sylvie evoked a family-type atmosphere at Ti Couz and with me she gave me a reason to visit Ti Couz, I felt like belonged there anytime I wanted to be.
In 2010 when I was laid off as administrator for the Health Dept. Sylvie sat with me. She did not speak, but she let me know she was there. Another time Sylvie had a pop-up of various neighborhood crafts vendors to sell their wares, I was one of them, I have knitted since I was a child.
I am sure mine will not be the only story to share about Sylvie Le Mer, but I am grateful to those of you who are reading my story. As for mental health “issues,” I will not leave suicide prevention information, I cannot tell anyone in pain to “reach out,” when I know life is not always that simple. All I can state here is that when someone leaves you much to remember, hold those memories dear and let them flourish as you grow older. It makes all the difference in the world.
No other reason to state that I was born today, August 27th, than to announce the obvious…I was born.
I will continue to celebrate whatever and whenever I can without depression, without fear and anxiety. I will continue to celebrate with the breath, creative energy and courage and strength flowing inside me and I will move forward in good faith, happiness and peace. Happy birthday to me!! LDS
Lorrie Denise Sargent, aka “Lolo.” I gave myself that name because my mother told me I could not pronounce my name properly.
I was born with the “family forehead.” Tee, hee! *snort*
One of many fancy dresses my late Aunt Annie, my father’s childless married sister bought for me.
Me with one of two dolls I still have, Cassabooba. Except an evil babysitter, Brigette, cut off both my doll’s hair cause she was jealous I had them.
Humbled that I got to live this long!!
(Bday pix at top courtesy of Pinterest/Red Bubble)
2019 – Grief, debt, living my 6th decade on this earth in a new place and living with a ridiculously unprofessional, ill-equipped, non-existent American leadership. I am happy to state that I am hopeful.
2020 – All of the above plus a new job and of course, for all of us, Covid. I am happy to state that I am hopeful.
August 2020 – For my 61st decade of life I would love to not struggle for air at a time when no one of us are certain the air is even real. I am happy to state that I am hopeful.
For my 61st decade of life I would love to believe in lavender bliss, deep, long lavender bubble baths and a lavender cocktails that taste exquisite. I am happy to state that I am hopeful.
For my 61st decade of life I want to laugh from the inside, even when I am not happy. I am happy to state that I am hopeful.
For my 61st decade of life it would be nice to embrace the guy who I am astrologically and creatively compatible to. Unfortunately Idris Elba is already taken. Plus, I heard Covid got his gorgeous, asthmatic ass! Get well Idris. I am happy to state that I am hopeful, but you know not for Idris, ’cause you know he’s not available and I am no homewrecker, but just sayin’.
For my 61st decade of life I would love for all Americans to strongly consider that in order to make America great we must ensure that every hard-working American is fed, educated and able to make a living to support themselves and support and maintain the cities in which they live. THAT is what makes America great for all concerned. I am happy to state that I am hopeful.
For my 61st decade of life I would love to see Justice for Breona Taylor and every black person and BLM sympathizer I have witnessed just this year alone who have had to suffer indignities because of three letters that seem to irritate the status quo, BLM. I did not make up the moniker, but I DO know that we ALL are of one imperfect race, HUMAN. We, humans, are not privileged or chosen to persecute other human beings. The only thing any human being is CHOSEN to do is die and we are not even PRIVILEGED to know when or how. And that is the one thing that makes people of all colors the same. I am happy to state that I am hopeful.
For my 61st decade of life – I will work hard to teach my brain that I am not on this earth to suffer. My heart is healthy and both my brain and my heart will rise above it all. We ALL will rise above it all. I know this is true.