Spring Equinox Update 2025
March 19, 2025
Vernal Equinox, March 20, 2025, is supposed to bring balance. Winter ends and Spring begins. As the date drew near, I was not feeling it. I seemed to be stuck in a liminal space between those equally long days and nights. Clearly, one phase of my life was over, but the next phase had not shifted into gear.
At the beginning of February, my landlady in Madrid raised my rent. She hadn't raised it for the five years I'd lived there, so she decided to ask for five times the cost-of-living raise she was entitled to. It went from €850 to €975. Whether that is legal under Spanish law is open to debate. I was expecting a raise within the legal three percent, so it was a shock. As you know, I live on my pensions which don't go up just because the rent does.
The apartment is a small studio, only 300 sf, looking into courtyards with clotheslines, and without air conditioning (which is a huge hardship during Madrid's scorching summers). Granted, it is in one of the city's most desirable neighborhoods. I looked for rentals in Madrid. Anything I could afford was smaller and more uncomfortable, even in neighborhoods where I didn't want to live. I wanted more space. I wanted more comfort. I wanted more sunlight.
As much as I didn't want to leave Madrid, I had to admit I was priced out.
The first time I visited Spain in 2016, I went to Granada to see the Alhambra. When I was standing in a 700-year-old neighborhood, an inner voice said, "You should live here." As my journey progressed, Madrid was the place I made friends and connections. I've thrived during my eight years there. I've visited Granada several times since. I always fall under the spell of that enchanted town presided over by the elegant Moorish palace.
Granada was the capital of the Arabic empire for 800 years, a time of peace and tolerance between Muslims, Jews, and Christians until it was conquered by the Catholic kings in 1492. Gypsies still live in caves in the hills above the city. Flamenco echoes down cobblestone streets. It inspires poets and captivates travelers. Its universities attract students and teachers from all over the world.
I looked up rentals in Granada online. They were far cheaper than Madrid. I took a train to Granada. I stayed for a week and looked at rentals. I identified two viable options. One worked out. It's in the old Jewish quarter called Realejo with narrow cobblestone streets. It's twice the size of my Madrid studio with two bedrooms, three balconies, and air conditioning. Space! Comfort! Sunlight! For €750 a month.
I went back to Madrid and packed up. I arrived in Madrid with four suitcases. How did I get so much stuff? It took a whole month to pack. Since my Madrid apartment was unfurnished, and my new Granada place is furnished, I sold my furniture to my landlady for about half of what I paid for it. I hired a van and driver. I rode to Granada in the passenger seat. On February 27th, the handsome Romanian driver unloaded my boxes and went back to Madrid.
I started settling in. I love the neighborhood. My new bed is comfortable. I have excellent wifi. Promised repairs were not made. Some furniture that had been there was no longer there. The new sofa was there as promised, but the desk was not. Things werre coming together little by little, but I was impatient. I wanted things done now perfectly! I wanted to get on with my life.
Finally, on March 16, workers showed up to assemble my new IKEA furniture. Suddenly, the gears engaged. Everything had a place. I unpacked the last of the boxes and recycled the tattered cardboard. My space opened up. At last, I feel at home. I still need to add finishing touches, but the tender sprout of my new life has pushed aside the soil and is opening to the warmth of the sun.
New community is also coming together. When I visited Granada in October, I took a workshop from a flamenco artist, Cristo de Anda, who has become a supportive friend. I've been going to a meetup group for expats and have made friends with a few American women. I've been befriended by a 22-year-old policeman that I met in a bar. Other connections are out there. Now that I've unpacked these boxes, I'll seek them out.
Granada means pomegranate in Spanish. Images of the spherical fruit bursting with ruby red seeds are all around me-- carved in stone, cast in bronze, glistening in souvenir stores. I see this symbol of juicy potential everywhere. I want that sweetness, but at the moment of Vernal Equinox, the pomegranate's tight brown buds are just beginning to unfurl into petite orange flowers. I remind myself to be patient. I'll need time to cultivate a new life. Balance is stasis. Forward movement requires a tilt of the scale.
Since our last newsletter, Dolly Parton announced that her husband died. I worked with Dolly when I was the trainee on "The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas." She's one Superstar that I thoroughly respect and admire. She's endlessly creative and unfailingly professional. She works for literacy and is a generous philanthropist. While she is doing all that, she manages to be kind and caring to all her coworkers.
Here's an excerpt from my memoir 20 Years in Hollywood: Tales to Tell to be published later this year:
I was given the job of getting breakfast for Dolly and her makeup and hair crew. Her elaborate look took time, so they were usually the first on set. I would greet them and make sure everyone on the team had arrived. I'd take their breakfast orders, call them into the commissary, pick them up, and deliver them to her huge motorhome dressing room. Dolly and her crew were always pleasant in the early morning hours, which I deeply appreciated since it is not always the case with diva actresses. They were always on time too. What was really unusual was that I never saw Dolly without makeup. She would arrive with the basics already applied. By that time in my career, I was used to seeing beautiful women arrive bare-faced and looking quite ordinary. After three hours of hard labor by a team of two or three, they looked like movie stars. Dolly, however, arrived gorgeous and became even more so.
One day, I was switched to another early morning assignment. That afternoon, I was working on paperwork at a makeshift desk I had set up on stage behind the scenery. Dolly came looking for me.
"There you are! Are you OK?"
I was surprised to see her in my dark corner.
"Yeah. I'm fine. What can I do for you?"
"Nothin'. I was just checking to be sure you're OK."
"That's so nice, but why?"
"Well, you bring me my breakfast every morning, and this morning you didn't. I thought something might be wrong."
"Nope. They just gave me another job, but how sweet of you to miss me."
"Glad you're fine. See you tomorrow?"
Remember, I was the lowest person in the production hierarchy.
I admired her marriage. She and Carl Dean adored each other. He encouraged her creativity and professional accomplishments. She didn't demand that he stand by her side in the limelight. They each did their own thing separately and enjoyed being together when they could be together. They gave each other the freedom to be themselves. I think that's what made the marriage last for six decades. After his death, she wrote a song celebrating their love, soothing her grief with her signature creativity. In their relationship, I find the definition of "blessing," both noun and verb.
May our petals unfurl in their own exquisite time as we grow towards our full bloom!
I have more tales to tell! Read them here:
Honey in the River: Shadow, Sex and... by Scarbrough, Marsha (amazon.com)
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