Elaine Ambrose

Bestselling Author, Ventriloquist, & Humorist

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The Broad of Broadway

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Thirty years ago, I traveled to New York on business and managed to secure a single ticket to the hottest show on Broadway: Les Misérables. I was 36 and wore an elegant suit, four-inch heels, and carried a designer bag. People smiled at me. Last week, I traveled to New York for a writing conference and found a single ticket to the hottest show on Broadway: Hamilton. I wore prescription eyeglasses, hearing aids, a knee brace, sturdy shoes, and carried a utility bag with cough drops, tissue, eye drops, arthritis cream, and acid reflux meds. People ignored me. I’ve added new meaning to the term “old broad” on Broadway.

 

The musicals continue to lure me across the country from my home in Idaho. I’ve experienced more than a dozen Broadway shows, from Cats to Miss Saigon to The Phantom of the Opera. My favorites are Les Misérables (eight times) and The Lion King (three times.) My perfect musical would combine the two as a passionate story of freedom fighters dancing with lions. I would play the lead, Hannah of the Savannah.

I grew up in the village of Wendell, Idaho when the population was 1,000. Our tiny school didn’t have musical productions, but we had a choir, and I sang with gusto. I’ve seen the massive performance halls in city high schools, and I wonder, “what if?”

At my age, I’m tickled pink to be able to travel. The past few years have brought some unwanted consequences of living this long. I’ve worn glasses since I was ten years old, but now the lenses include adjustments for distance and for reading. I also tote a pair of computer eyeglasses and a pair of prescription sunglasses. My eyes water all the time, so I bring special drops that work for a few minutes. People think I’m crying, but I’m just sad because my eyes are watering.

Hearing aids are the most recent addition to my growing list of necessities. I had been reading lips for several years because I couldn’t hear conversations. I had the television volume turned so loud, the neighbors could hear the news from across the street. I finally relented to the hearing test because I often watch my darling grandkids, and I didn’t want to miss one sweet song or one frustrated tantrum. My hearing aids are so fancy, they can connect to my electronic devices through Bluetooth. I don’t know what that means.

My new malady worries me the most. I’ve developed osteoarthritis in my hands and there are ugly nodules on the first joints of my fingers. I’m having a procedure soon to cut off the biggest growths. As a writer, I need my fingers to type. I’ve been advised to try a dictation device and to change habits after half a century of typing. I also enjoy playing piano, and the hand doctor told me I would need to relearn how to play with flat fingers. And, so I will.

After 30 years of Broadway Musicals, I’m moving a bit slower but I still give my regards. Last year, I saw the musical Beautiful featuring the music of Carole King. It reminded me of a time so far away when I felt like a natural woman. Now I’m tired and often wonder if my family will still love me tomorrow. As long as I can feel the earth move under my feet, I’ll venture back to Broadway. The Great White Way, nicknamed in the late 1890s when the street was one of the first to be illuminated by electric lights, is some kind of wonderful.

 

 

 

 

Tears from Italy on Sept.11, 2001

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9-11 newspapers Italy

(Featured on The Huffington Post 50, Sept. 11, 2015)

On a clear afternoon on September 11, 2001, the internet café in Florence, Italy bustled with tourists, students, and animated baristas shuffling plates of pastries and demitasse cups of steaming expresso. I paid for an hour of computer time to write and email a travel update to family and friends back in the States. Around 3:00 pm, I finished a long letter and pushed “Send.” Nothing happened. I groaned about a perceived computer error and continued to hit the “Send” button. Suddenly, all the screens in the café went dark. That’s when we knew the problem was serious. The time in New York was 9:00 am.

I rushed back to my hotel room, turned on CNN news, and watched in horror as the South Tower of the World Trade Center in New York City collapsed in a nightmare of smoke and debris. Then the second tower fell, and images flashed of the Pentagon on fire. I was almost 6,000 miles from home in Idaho, I couldn’t make a telephone call to my family, and all flights were cancelled. I gasped for breath.

Hungry for information, I hurried to the lobby and joined other Americans from our tour group. We huddled around television sets, alternately hugging, wiping tears, and praying. The hotel staff opened the bar and offered free food and drinks. Our group quickly expanded to include people from several nationalities, and near twilight a spontaneous chorus erupted with all of us signing “God Bless America” and the National Anthem. The Italians proved to be our new best friends.

We still didn’t know the extent of the attacks or if any more airplanes had been intentionally crashed. The telephone lines remained down for another day, but the Internet returned on September 12. The hotel offered free access, and we lined up for our five-minute turn on the antiquated computer. I sent a bulk email and quickly read touching emails from my children, both in their early 20s. The Atlantic Ocean became an insurmountable obstacle for an unknown time. I remembered standing for a photo between the Twin Towers and couldn’t imagine the enormous level of destruction and evilness.

twin towers elaine

I devoured every newspaper I could find and still have copies of Il Mattino, The Wall Street Journal Europe, USA Today Italia, The Herald International Tribune, and other publications from that time. Most of the Europeans we met were supportive of Americans and mad about the terrorists. As more details emerged about the evil murderers, the moods of the Americans in our group changed from sorrow, disbelief, and fear, to anger and patriotism. The breathtaking beauty and splendor of Tuscany was momentarily clouded by our emotional pain.

A few days later, we learned we couldn’t fly home until September 22, so we continued on our journey. For a stranded tour group, Italy was the place to be. The food tasted better, the wine flowed freely, and we became best friends. None of us personally knew any of the victims, but we shared a strong American heritage. Going through the airport security in Venice became a stressful ordeal. We were thoroughly searched and patted, everything was removed and repacked in our luggage, and we stood in lines for hours. Finally we boarded the flight to New York City.

Landing at La Guardia Airport was a surreal experience. The passengers all clapped when the plane landed, but then quietly filed out of the plane. The airport was almost deserted, even though it was a Friday afternoon in New York. We boarded the airplane for Seattle and there were only a dozen passengers on the entire 747 airplane. We could see smoke and haze over the city, and we prayed until the plane had been in the air for twenty minutes.

I had several rows of seats all to myself, so I stretched out and tried to sleep. When awake, the polite flight attendants brought all the food and drinks I wanted. I made eye contact with them, and could tell which ones had been crying. We landed in Seattle, and I felt like kissing the ground. A few hours more, and I was back in Idaho.

twin tower new

I’ve returned to New York several times since then, and two years ago I took a photo of the new tower under construction. The strength and beauty of the new design is a testament to the resilient spirit of the people who love this country. I continue my love of travel, my respect for the United States of America, and my distain for the godless cowards who slaughtered so many precious lives and destroyed valuable property 14 years ago. We will never forget.

 

How to Pack Light for a Conference in New York

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new york skyline

 

All day I’ve been crooning my inner Sinatra: “Start spreading the news. I’m leaving today…New York, New York!” For a farm girl from Wendell, Idaho, going alone to the Big Apple is 85% exciting and 20% terrifying. (I’m not good with math.)

I’ll be attending BlogHer 15, the world’s largest conference for women content creators. The three-day event is sponsored by SheKnows Media and attracts thousands of national and international bloggers. This year, I will be recognized as one of the “Voices of the Year” winners because of a post I wrote about my late mother. The honor is bittersweet.voice of the year badge

I love to travel and have a few tips to make the experience less stressful.

  1. Start with quality luggage. I’ve visited 32 countries around the world with my 15-year-old Hartmann pieces. They are tough, easy to transport, hold a week’s worth of clothes, and qualify as carry-on luggage. I put my purse inside the top bag.

Hartmann luggage

  1. Take only comfortable, fashionable, washable, wrinkle-resistant fabrics that can be rolled. Prepare for the first travel day with an emphasis on ease and comfort. It will take at least 10 hours to go from my home in Idaho to the Hilton in NYC, so I’m wearing sensible black Capris with a snappy shirt and a colorful jacket.

dress blogher pants3.  Pack at least one “hot” outfit with color. For Friday’s award reception, I chose a bright, burnt-orange sundress with bedazzled scarf. I coordinated jewelry and will use some of the same pieces several times.

dress blogher

 

  1. Include a black sweater because it travels and photographs well. Wear it over a simple dress for a professional look.

dress blogher blue

  1. Don’t be afraid to try something out of your comfort zone. I’m taking a sharp black and white dress that I’ll wear over leggings. It’s a new look for me.

dress blogher leggings

  1. Remember the essentials: a Mophie battery pack will charge Ipad and Iphone, and use a resistance band to exercise in your room so you can have wine and pie with dinner. I hand out bookmarks instead of business cards, and I organize a file with separate compartments for airline schedules, hotel reservations, and the daily conference itinerary.

dress blogher batteryblogher bookmarks

 

 

  1. As a present to myself, I’m going to the Broadway production of Carole King’s musical, “Beautiful.” I’ll wear a black, sheath dress with bling and a fringed scarf. I’ll rely on Uber car service to take me to and from the theatre.

dress blogher black

  1. I only take three pairs of shoes: I wear one and pack two. I don’t take high heels because they hurt my feet, and I don’t take tennis shoes because they’re too bulky.
  2. Use only enough toiletries and medications to last for the time you’re there. Keep jewelry simple and interchange pieces.
  3. Pack an extra tote bag to bring back purchases, conference materials, and swag. Then check one bag coming home.
  4. Expect to learn new skills, meet new friends, and connect with valuable associates.

I always return energized after attending a conference either as a participant or as a speaker. The experience keeps the brain working, and at my age, that’s a definite advantage.

 

Thanks, Mom! My Blog is a Winner

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I’m going to New York as one of the winners in the BlogHer Voices of the Year Competition. Since 2005, BlogHer has presented the largest conference for (mostly) women online content creators on the planet. At the heart of the conference, presented this year in New York City from July 17-19, is the annual Voices of the Year ceremony.

Thousands of entries were submitted by both content creators themselves and their fans and were reviewed through a juried process, winnowing the list down to a mere 5% of submissions that will be honored.

The honor is bittersweet because my winning blog is titled “My Mother’s Body Got Lost.” She’s smiling at me, still.

 

Here is my winning blog: My Mother’s Body Got Lost

I’m trying to plan my mother’s funeral, but we have a problem. We can’t find her.

My mother passed away Saturday after a long illness. I had all the funeral arrangements planned months in advance, so I was prepared when the inevitable happened. After she died, I contacted the proper authorities to transport her body 100 miles to her hometown of Wendell, Idaho for the funeral and burial. Some things don’t always go as planned. Two days later, we know that the body is gone from her assisted living facility but it’s not in Wendell. This is a cause for concern.

During the past few years, my mother has been lost in dementia. Even after moving her to a secure nursing home in Boise, there were times when I visited and couldn’t find her. The staff and I would search the facility and find her in someone else’s room and the two residents would be talking about their old times that never happened. No harm was done, and we gently, lovingly participated in their storytelling. But, I always knew she was somewhere inside the building.

Today I called the funeral home in Wendell and they hadn’t received the body. How do you lose a casket? I thought I had completed all the necessary arrangements, but I wasn’t familiar with the procedures for this dilemma. I used my inside voice and calmly requested that somebody do something. I called back an hour later and needed to employ my outside, aggressive tone. This last resort has been known to get immediate results and leave people trembling. I’m not proud of this trait, but it works.

At last, I received a call from Wendell that they had found her body still in Boise and the transportation was being arranged. A few hours later, I received a call that said she was near Bliss, a tiny village along the route.

“Of course she is,” I responded.

I hope she had a nice weekend and enjoyed having the last word. But, Mom, now it’s time to go home. Please.

Planning a funeral is similar to planning a wedding. Family and friends come together, some cry, music plays, and people wave goodbye. Except, at a funeral, the goodbye lasts a long time. This last momentary interruption is my mother’s way of telling me I’m not always in charge of everything. Somewhere, my parents are laughing.