RIP, James E. Burke

The world lost a bright light – and I lost one of my heroes – with the recent death of former J&J CEO James E. Burke.  Ironically, he passed away right around the time that marks the 30^th anniversary of the TYLENOL crisis, the event for which Burke was best known.

In September of 1982, seven people died in the Chicago area from ingesting TYLENOL that had been tampered with, the capsules opened and the acetaminophen replaced with deadly cyanide.  To date, no one has ever been convicted of this reprehensible crime.  The event – and Johnson & Johnson’s public response to it – has been cited as a textbook case of crisis management.  Soon after its return to the market, TYLENOL regained its place as the market leader in the pain reliever category. 

Plenty of people take credit for their roles in this well-known case, but it was Burke himself who called the shots.  Not armed with a “crisis manual” – they didn’t exist at the time – he relied on his instincts, his heart and on the Johnson & Johnson Credo to do the right thing and guide his actions, which included recalling all bottles of TYLENOL and damn the cost (which added up to about $100 million).

But it is not the Jim Burke that brought the business back who left an indelible mark on me.  It is the Jim Burke who, during a nationally televised press conference from our New Brunswick headquarters, choked up in mentioning the seven victims.  It is the Jim Burke who allowed “60 Minutes” to sit in and broadcast strategy sessions with senior management, and the Jim Burke who won over a live audience of mostly women, and, in the process, a national audience, by appearing on the daytime talk show hosted by the king of daytime, Phil Donahue.  There, viewers got the measure of this remarkable man, his humility, his humanity, his sincerity.  That was the Burke I knew.

Mr. Burke became chairman in 1976, and I worked closely with him on presentations until he retired from J&J 13 years later.  I was young and too far down on the org chart to meet one-on-one with the CEO, but that happened frequently.  When his executive assistant – my still-good friend and fellow graduate of Somerville High School, Helen Hughes – would summon me to his office, I always asked if I should bring my boss, because that was proper protocol.  No, she’d say, “he said ‘Just Tina.’”  To this day, she calls me “Justina.”

Burke was an exceptional and inspiring leader, a brilliant businessman who combined a creative streak and business acumen, and who considered the ideas of others and sought their input but who was not afraid to make a decision.  You could not outthink him.  If I came up with a dozen ways to illustrate something, he’d suggest another one that I hadn’t considered.  Not that I always appreciated his input, especially during long days, night and weekends revising and revising and revising his presentation to the shareholders, but you could not get mad at this man, because he wanted the best and always delivered on his end.  Once, after we finished a rehearsal of his talk for the shareholders, J&J President Dave Clare got up to speak.  He had no sooner uttered, “Good morning, Jim,” when Burke interrupted him to make a change.  Hmm, I thought, if he’s changing, “Good morning, Jim,” we are in for a LONG day.

After a grinding stretch, which required countless hours of preparation, and finally the culmination of that work, when he would deliver his speech, Burke would send me a note or give me a bone-crushing hug.  I would feel the warmth and gratitude of that man as his arms enveloped me.  Now, we’d worry about sexual harassment, but then, it was like was two friends who had worked together in triumph, sharing a victory. 

Jim Burke was about as down-to-earth as a major business leader could possibly be.  Once we went on the company plane to California, where he addressed a group of West Coast employees.  The next day, he wanted to check out the packaging on the diaper boxes in a local supermarket.  He bought a few boxes, but, since he didn’t need the diapers, he stood at the cash register and offered the diapers to the other shoppers.  I could feel their eyes follow us out of the store as we got into a huge stretch limo.  “Who was that masked man?” they must have thought. 

The most profound impact Jim Burke made on me was in 1979, when he ended his presentation to a major management conference by telling everyone in the room that they should be having fun.  Fun was something I hadn’t considered much at work since I was usually too busy working.  But Jim Burke gave me license to have fun, and that is advice I not only followed but also have passed along to everyone who ever worked for me:  Work hard, do your best and have fun, and if you aren’t having fun, you are in the wrong place.  I even consoled my nephew with those words of wisdom after he would be the goalie on the losing soccer team.  I hope the people to whom I provided this advice will pass it along to the next generation as I did.

I have been fortunate to have some great role models and heroes in my life: My parents, my high school English teacher, Larry Foster (the man who hired me and helped me flourish and who knows more about public relations than ANYONE), my next boss (Bill Nielsen) and, last but not least, Jim Burke.  I’ll remember him in his prime, handsome and robust, the smartest man in the room and certainly, the most fun.  RIP, Mr. Burke.

Tina's September Movies

Here are the few movies I had a chance to see in September. Numbering picks up from previous months, and movies I had not seen previously are marked with an *.  Movies are rated on a scale of 1 to 5 cans of tuna fish, with 5 being the top of the scale.

96. Love Story (1970) – What can you say about a 25-year old woman who died – 42 years ago? That she appeared in a corny, sappy and irresistible movie that even now I adore watching – not all the time, but every once in a while. Erich Segal’s tearjerker involves rich preppie Harvard guy Oliver Barrett IV (Ryan O’Neal, looking FINE), who falls hard for poor, smart and snarky Radcliffe girl Jennifer Cavalleri (Ali MacGraw). They meet cute, marry, suffer through estrangement from his incredibly wealthy father and endure poverty as they put him through law school, and just as he is getting himself established with a prestigious law firm in New York, she comes down with movie star disease (you can assume it’s cancer, but they never name it, she has no symptoms, and it will kill her quickly, the doctor advises Oliver). No amount of money will save Jenny, leaving poor Ollie to look forlorn. The memorable score by Francis Lai adds to the melodrama, and I can’t help but think about the Carol Burnett-Harvey Korman send-up of this movie, but, truth be told, I am a sucker for sap and I love “Love Story!” 4 cans and a box of Kleenex, please!
97. Thief* (1991) – James Caan channels his Sonny Corleone tough-guy persona in this story about Frank, a man in the car business by day and the safecracking business by night. An ex-con, Frank is an expert safecracker, but he wants just one more big score so he can get out of the business and on with his life. He marries Jessie (Tuesday Weld) and adopts a young son, but the complicated score he is working on gets more complicated when his “client” (Robert Prosky) changes the terms of their deal. If you know anything about filmmaker Michael Mann, you will immediately recognize his visual style and pounding soundtrack (think “Miami Vice” but without the pastel suits). There is plenty of violence and tough-guy posturing, and Frank, like Sonny Corleone, doesn’t mind taking matters into his own hands. Drop the gun and grab the cannolis. 3 cans.
98. Chapter Two* (1979) – James Caan sheds his tough-guy persona here to star as George Schneider, a New York author who is grieving the loss of his beloved wife Barbara. His friends and his brother Leo (Joseph Bologna) want to set him up with new women, and when he meets actress Jennifer (Marsha Mason), he falls hard and fast. In no time, they get married, but George has trouble allowing himself to enjoy his new life and wife while he hasn’t finished mourning the last one. George can be charming one minute and sullen the next, but Jenny is patient and plucky and in for the long haul. This movie was written by Neil Simon, who based the story on his own experiences and was married to Marsha Mason. It contains some of the witty repartee for which Simon known, but not enough to lift the veil of gloom. I give it extra points for co-starring Valerie Harper as Jenny’s best friend. 2½ cans.
99. Somebody Up There Likes Me (1956) – Paul Newman plays middleweight champ Rocky Graziano, whose roughneck style in the ring came from his life on the streets on New York. Rocky Barbella, his real name, was a hoodlum growing up, someone the cops knew by name and sight, always in trouble, hanging out with a gang (including a young Sal Mineo), looking for the next score and backing down from no one. His bleak future grows yet bleaker when he is drafted into the Army. Intolerant of any kind of authority, Rocky simply leaves one day, but eventually he is captured and sent to Leavenworth to do hard time. There, one of the inmates sees him fighting and tells him to come by Stillman’s Gym when he gets out. With nothing better to do, Rocky shows up one day, offers to spar, refuses to train, and devastates opponents with a brutal right hand. Along the way, he changes his name to avoid bad publicity, actually finds a nice girl to marry him, and turns his life around completely. Newman is all twitchy and jumpy as Rocky and scores a knockout performance as the champ. This movie does make you wonder why anyone would want to be a professional fighter, although in Rocky’s case, he would have been fighting in the streets for much less of a payday. 3½ cans.
100. Arbitrage* (2012) – Richard Gere has eased handsomely into silver-fox parts. Here he plays Robert Miller, millionaire head of a family-owned investment firm, a philanthropist and philanderer who is trying to sell his company before it crumbles around him. He is altruistic and generous – and desperate about that little $400 million hole in the books. Like the part he played in “Unfaithful,” he commits a reprehensible act and acts amorally, relying on others for the cover-up, which he professes to do because too many people would be hurt. Never mind the crime and its ultimate end, he’s just ever so thoughtful. I kept waiting for more suspense or twists, but instead had to watch the dogged, Columbo-like detective (Tim Roth) try to crack the case by harassing the young man Miller enlists to help him, who the detective figures will crack. I haven’t seen Gere this emotional and frustrated since Louis Gossett Jr. tormented him as Private Mayo in “An Officer and a Gentleman.” Here, he is neither. 3 cans.
101. Inherit the Wind* (1960) – Esteemed barristers Henry Drummond (Spencer Tracy) and Matthew Harrison Brady (Fredric March) face off in a sweltering Hillsborough, Tennessee, courtroom in this movie based on the Scopes Monkey trial. Young teacher Bert Cates (Dick York) is accused of teaching Darwin’s theory of evolution to his high school classes, much to the consternation of the religious right, led by Reverend Brown (Claude Akins), whose daughter is engaged to Cates. The drama examines every angle of the story, of religious fervor, of scientific analysis, of the relevance of the Bible and the role of religion and in the laws and how they are administered in the court system. Tracy delivers a stellar performance, matched in histrionics by the more volatile March, in this thought-provoking drama. Preachy at times, it nonetheless holds your attention, though I confess I can’t imagine this film having a wide commercial success, given the subject matter. It is a classic that I finally took time to see. 4 cans.
102. A Star Is Born (1976) – Barbra Streisand’s prodigious talents and prominent proboscis are on display in this tale of a singer whose star is on the rise while her husband’s career hits the skids. Kris Kristofferson plays John Norman Howard, a rock star whose performances on stage are fueled by drugs and alcohol and whose life is in free fall when he meets club singer Esther Hoffman. With his help and connections, she becomes a star and marries him, despite his warnings that he’s probably not good for her in the long run. The end of the movie is inevitable, but just seeing Barbra in her curly perm and pantsuits and hearing her sing “Evergreen” makes the movie worth seeing – but no more often than once every 20 years or so. 3 cans.

Random Thoughts for September 2012

I got a call recently from a company doing a survey, and the woman launched immediately into a question about the number of people in my household. I countered with a question of my own: "What is this survey about?" She said she couldn't tell me the sponsor, but I told her I wasn't interested in the sponsor, just in the nature of the questions so I would know whether answering them was worth my time. She said it was a matter of national interest. Politics? Religion? Environmental affairs? She said she didn't know the answer to my question. So, someone is calling to ask me questions in a survey and she doesn't know the nature of the questions? I'll pass, I told her.

Speaking of unwanted phone calls, is anything more annoying than the robocalls that tell you there is nothing wrong with your credit card but that they want to talk to you about getting a lower rate? Once I actually pressed the key to speak with a rep to tell him that it is illegal to call someone on the Do Not Call list and I wasn't interested in the services of his company. He wouldn't give me the name of the company or let me speak to a manager. Instead, he launched into a string of profanity the likes of which was rather startling. Rather than hang up, I proceeded to goad him by complimenting him on his colorful vocabulary, asking him if he had to undergo special training to master this impressive skill and telling him that his parents must be so proud of the career he was pursuing. All the while he kept insisting I should perform physically impossible activities. I think if I were him, I'd rather take tolls at the Lincoln Tunnel. I don't think there's much of a future in his line of work.

Before I went on Weight Watchers, I used to crave chocolate. Now I crave fruit. And chocolate. But not together, please.

“The Hunger Games” has a whole different meaning in this house, though it is all about survival in our respective worlds. Eat less, move more.

One of the advantages to losing weight - and there are too many to list - is that I can now throw my clothes in the dryer and not worry that they will shrink. In fact, I actually have to throw some things in and hope they WILL shrink, or they will be too big for me after one wearing. I know now that when I buy new things to keep the tags on so I can always take them back if they are too big by the time I am ready to wear them. Kohl’s is especially good about returns.

How did my iron ever fit in the original box? I store it in there now and despite working every angle, it is impossible to get it back neatly into the box. How did it come that way?

Why is the hair on my legs so much more noticeable when I have no access to a razor? I can sit by the pool and count all the strays I missed when I shaved them the last time. Not that I can remember when that was.

Do you ever get a song running through your head that drives you crazy? They call them "earworms," I'm told. Today I had two: "Ring My Bell" (probably because it is played while I do aqua aerobics) and Bobby Brown's "My Prerogative" (probably because while exercising to "Ring My Bell" we discussed perogies. Get it?).

There is so little food in my house sometimes that when I open the refrigerator, it looks as if I either am moving that day or just moved in.

I don't watch golf on TV, but I caught the end of a tournament recently. I don't understand how the golfers can tell where the ball lands when they are so far away from it. Is it the roar of the crowd? The crowd would roar for a good shot, but how can you tell if the shot is merely good or if it goes into the hole? Especially if it curves 40 feet and lands completely outside your line of sight.

Are you still using the knives, kitchen gadgets and towels you got as shower gifts or when you first moved out on your own? If so, isn't it time to replace them? You don't need a bridal shower to venture into the housewares section on your own and step up your game. BTW, the things I most often use in my kitchen are a pair of tongs and a spatula when I am cooking, cutting boards (individually designated for fruit, vegetables or chicken), and a spreader, which tells me I eat too many carbs if I am always spreading something on them.

I am busy walking outside these days, but even there, I have my rules. I don't like to backtrack. I have to find routes that let me keep walking but without turning around and passing the same way going home. Don't think this is easy. I do the same thing in the supermarket. No backtracking allowed.

When I was young, all kids wanted to be firemen or teachers or baseball players. I wonder if today's kids aspire to work for a paper shredding company or a storage facility.

What happens to all those houses with solar panels when there is no sun? No heat? No electricity? How about the street lights? Is that why Hillsborough seems so dark at night?

Speaking of night, here's some advice: Don't get locked out of your house at night. The locksmith who comes to help you has you over a barrel. It's not like I wanted to spend the night on my front porch, and it's not like I went out for a walk without my key. The front doorknob lock just froze, stranding me with - thankfully - a cell phone. $400 later, I was in, the lock was replaced and rekeyed to work with the existing deadbolt and key and all is well. But the next time I get locked out, I'll try to do it during the daytime.

Whatever happened to mail boxes? I walk all over my side of town, up and down numerous residential streets, and I have yet to find one. Meanwhile, the local post office here in Hillsborough isn't open for business until 10 AM. Really? Yes, you can throw a letter into the mailbox in the parking lot, but don't try to go inside to mail a package on your way to work. I know the USPS is in financial straits, but if the post office isn't open convenient hours, people will find another way to mail their packages. And that won't put $ in the coffers of the USPS. I just said that so I could use the word "coffers."

Is your brother-in-law's brother also your brother-in-law - but once removed - or do you simply refer to him as my brother-in-law's brother?

I can't believe I have been out of college for 40 years. How is that possible when I am so young?

What's with all these stink bugs? They are the slowest bugs I have ever seen. I'll find them hanging on the edge of a lamp or crawling slowly across the floor, making it easy to scoop them up and give them a ride to the toilet. If you crush them, they live up to their names and STINK. I pay the exterminator over $300 to spray the house to keep them out. I don't know where they came from, but I wish they'd go back.

Everybody cleans the house the day before the cleaning lady comes, right?

I've lived in this house for 5 years now and still am not used to all the noises. The humming refrigerator, the busy ice maker, the wine fridge, the attic fan, the furnace/air conditioner - and that's not counting the washer, the dryer, and the birds and the crickets. It's no wonder I have trouble sleeping.

My sister and I had a recent conversation about pillow tickings. Do people even know what they are (they are pillow covers that zip over your pillow to protect it. From what, I’m not sure.) We use them, wash them and swear by them to protect our pillows, but I wonder, do young people know what they are? Do people still have them/buy them/wash them/use them? Wow, I do have too much time on my hands.

Have you seen the gigantic eyeglasses athletes and stars are wearing these days? I have a few old pairs that are the size of a windshield but not nearly the contemporary style, so I can't wear them. Why do I still have them? I have no idea.

To me, wearing a hat is a commitment. Once I put one on – which I do every time I go out for a walk – I know my hair will be affected in some way, and probably not in a flattering way at that. So once I wear a hat, I have to wear it the rest of the day. It’s a commitment.

If the 80s ever come back, I am ready. I have lots of double-breasted suits with pleated pants and huge (football player huge) shoulders. If they ever remake the TV show “Dynasty,” they can put me in charge of wardrobe.

I use I Can't Believe It's Not Butter (Light), but, unfortunately, I can.

Tina's August Movies

Between the Olympics and social obligations, I only had a chance to see 7 movies in August, including two on Lifetime TV, thereby breaking my rule against watching movies with commercial interruptions. Next month I will try to do a better job. Numbering picks up from the previous month, and movies marked with a * are ones I haven't seen previously.

89. In & Out (1997) – Kevin Kline stars in this funny farce about a high school teacher/drama coach who is “outed” at the Oscars by a former student who wins the award for best actor (and the scenes of his movie are hilariously bad). About to marry a fellow teacher (Joan Cusak, who almost steals the show), Kline vehemently denies the charge that he is gay, though he is forced to examine his love for all things Streisand and whether he can forego dancing to “I Will Survive.” Tom Selleck, a TV reporter assigned to the story in rural Greenleaf, Indiana, reveals that he, too, is gay. Debbie Reynolds and Wilfred Brimley play Kline’s parents and Matt Dillon is the Oscar-winning actor in a story that poses the question, “Is everybody gay?” All I know is that everyone is laughing, because this is a funny and charming movie. 4 cans.
90. Hope Springs* (2012) – Whenever there is a Meryl Streep movie out, you go to see it full of hope that it will be memorable, outstanding and entertaining. “Hope Springs” qualifies on the lowest rung of that scale. Meryl and Tommy Lee Jones are an old married couple in this “romantic” comedy, going through the motions of a dull and drab life together in their empty nest. He comes down for the same breakfast every day and silently reads the headlines while she serves him. In the evenings, he falls asleep in the recliner watching the Golf Channel before retreating to his bed in the guest room, while she pines for intimacy, romance and any conversation that doesn’t involve someone’s tax returns. Realizing they need help, she signs them up for a $4000 week of couples therapy in Maine, which he insists is not only completely unnecessary – isn’t the fact that they have been married 31 years enough to show they have a successful marriage, he ponders – but way too expensive. She decides to go anyway, and he reluctantly joins her. Steve Carrell is completely wasted in the role of the sincere and helpful therapist who gets the recalcitrant couple to do things they haven’t done in years – and possibly ever (and I was more that a little uncomfortable watching Meryl stoop to some of the assignments). I wish there had been more comedy here – can you imagine Bob Newhart as the therapist? – but any movie with Meryl starts with at least one can. Jones is a good match for her, as grumpy as she is sincere, but overall, despite a few humorous moments, there is a lot of pain to witness here. OK, but not great. Sorry, Meryl. 3½ cans.
91. Anywhere But Here* (1999) – Susan Sarandon and a very young Natalie Portman play mother and daughter Adele and Ann August. Flighty Adele moves her 14-year old from her familiar surroundings in Wisconsin to Beverly Hills, despite the fact that they can’t afford to live there. The eternal optimist – except when she takes to her bed in a fit of depression – Adele is determined to make their meager existence better, even if it means lying to do so. Who is the mature person in this relationship, you wonder. Sarandon and Portman give outstanding performances as the eccentric mother and the sometimes sullen teenager. Ann realizes she needs to break free of her mother, but Adele is not about to let go easily. I somehow had missed this movie that I always had wanted to see, and I am happy I finally caught up with it. 3½ cans.
92. J. Edgar* (2011) – Leonardo DiCaprio is J. Edgar Hoover in Clint Eastwood’s biopic about the man who led the FBI for nearly 50 years. Fiercely loyal to the agency and protective of the U.S., Hoover became more powerful than virtually anyone in the country. He pioneered the establishment of a federal registry for fingerprints and championed the federal legislation on kidnapping after conflicts with NJ law enforcement during the Lindbergh baby’s disappearance. A vengeful man, he didn’t hesitate to take credit for things he didn’t do or to establish an enemies list that even Richard Nixon could envy, tracking the private lives of anyone who disagreed with him or crossed him. Ironically, he had a long-term relationship with a man he hired at the FBI, Clyde Tolson (Armie Hammer), all the while railing against homosexuals. This movie depicts a zealot who abused his power absolutely, answered to virtually no one yet remained devoted to his mother and his job. DiCaprio looks more like Philip Seymour Hoffman than Hoover, but he does a credible job, looking angry enough to burst at the seams throughout the movie. It was hard for me to separate my disdain for Hoover from the credibility of the movie, but Eastwood and DiCaprio do a good job of shedding light on a very dark man. 4 cans.
93. Air Force One (1997) – Harrison Ford plays the very brave and resourceful president of the U.S., who is forced to outwit, outplay and outlast the bad guys who take over his plane in this action-adventure. Indiana Jones as president, I guess. Glenn Close plays the VP, manning the Washington contingent and trying to deal with terrorist Gary Oldman as he systematically executes the passengers on the aircraft. Who knew Air Force One was so huge? There are sets of stairs, conference rooms, a huge office and lots of places to run and hide, which helps the president in his retaliation against the terrorists. I’m not a big action fan, but having the action in a confined space that no one else can enter makes this story an intellectual as well as physical fight. I hadn’t seen it since it appeared in the theater 15 years ago, and I’m probably good for another 15 before seeing it again, but as action movies go, this one really takes off. 3½ cans.
93. & 94. Fatal Honeymoon* (2012) and Natalie Holloway* (2009) – I don’t generally watch Lifetime TV’s heroine in distress movies, but I was familiar with both of the cases on which these dramas were based, so I watched them back-to-back one night when nothing else was on. Both are based on stories of attractive young women whose fate is sealed when they find themselves with sociopathic guys who will do them harm and refuse to tell the truth. “Fatal Honeymoon” is the story of Tina Watson, a Southern beauty who falls for Gabe, a manipulative creep whom her father (Harvey Keitel) immediately recognizes as the wrong guy for his precious daughter. Gabe marries her then hauls her off to Australia for their honeymoon so they can scuba dive around the Great Barrier Reef – despite her lack of experience as a diver and her expressed fears. She mysteriously drowns, and there is plenty of evidence that he either disconnected her air supply or, as a certified rescue diver, should have been able to save her. Her father pursues the case vigorously, eager to see his son-in-law of 11 days pay for what he is sure is his daughter’s murder (his motive? Collecting on the life insurance policy her urged her to take out but which she ultimately did not do.). In “Natalie Holloway,” Tracy Pollan delivers a gritty performance as Beth Twitty, the anguished mother of 18-year old Alabama high school graduate Natalie, who goes off with her friends and classmates on a celebratory trip to Aruba, meets Joran Van der Sloot and is never seen again. Desperate to find her, Twitty arrives in Aruba and takes on the lax investigation by garnering as much media attention as possible to force Joran to tell the truth. Neither of the parents in these movies can possibly be satisfied with the outcome of their cases, so there is a strong parallel here. And the lessons learned are that kids who drink can end up as tragedies, and parents who worry too much are probably right. 3 cans a piece.
95. Zorro the Gay Blade* (1991) – Sometimes when someone recommends a movie highly I worry that it cannot possibly live up to the hype and that I will be disappointed. This was definitely not the case in this campy and outrageous version of Zorro, with George Hamilton playing the title role and also playing the hero’s twin brother, “Bunny.” Hamilton is all arched eyebrows and megawatt smiles as he attacks this role with more relish than you can find on all the hotdogs at Nathan’s on July 4th. Whether facing off against his arch enemy, the autocratic altalde (Ron Liebman, delightfully evil) or fending off advances from the altade’s wife (Brenda Vaccarro – remember her?), Hamilton is dashing and dazzling. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Mel Brooks directed this romp, and it is almost on a par with his brand of inspired lunacy. Lauren Hutton chips in to the hilarity as a woman out to do good who falls in love with Hamilton. There are duels galore, lavish sets and costumes and enough of a “pronounced accent” that I might just have to see it again to catch all of the good lines in missed. I urge any of you “pipples” who may have missed this gem to rent it or catch it on TV. 4 cans.

Taking It to the Streets

Has anyone ever been attacked by a gaggle of geese? How about deer? When they are frolicking around and dodging cars, do they ever morph into “Deer Gone Wild?” These are just a few of the questions I ponder as I pound the pavement in and around Hillsborough, NJ, in my new attempt to get healthy and fit. I am Adele, always “Chasing Pavements,” and happy our respective bodies no longer resemble each other.

I’ll admit that my relationship with my new best friend, DVD Walking Queen Leslie Sansone (available through Amazon or wherever exercise DVDs are sold), was short-lived. Though I appreciated her ability to lead me through indoor walking and marching in inclement weather, I found her relentless cheeriness annoying, especially in contrast with the calming introspection I find while taking daily walks.

Mind you, I have lived in my house on Joshua Drive for five years now, and in all that time, I rarely had ventured off my horseshoe-shaped street by foot. Once in the fall my sister got me to walk around the block, but one lap (less than a mile) was about all I could manage.

At one time I was a regular walker, but then my knees began to ache and plantar fasciitis began to plague my feet. I started gaining weight, which only made it more difficult to walk. In 2010, my Achilles was so sore that I ended up in a cast – twice – and occasionally I was forced to rely on a cane. I lost hope of ever being able to approach any degree of fitness.

Now, however, thanks to the combination of aqua aerobics and the fact that I have 75 pounds less to schlep all over town (courtesy of Weight Watchers), my knees feel better, my Achilles doesn’t feel like it is about to snap, and I’m taking it to the streets once more. A while back it dawned on me that my weight loss would not continue merely by cutting back on my food intake and counting my Weight Watchers points, so I had to ramp up the exercise. Aqua aerobics wasn’t enough to cut it, so to speak.

So now I walk. Not with the same fervor as my sister – who I am convinced is going to leave her house one morning at 6 AM and keep walking, until she ends up in Iowa – but I am trying to do it every day. In the sweltering heat, I am out the door by 7 AM. I figure since I can’t sleep anyway, I might as well beat the heat. If I have enough energy and the weather cooperates, I often take a walk in the evening, too.

I have turned into one of the people I used to envy as I drove past them on my way to work. How nice, I thought, to have nothing better to do than take a walk in the morning. When I retire, I’ll do that, I told myself. It only took me 5 years! Now I understand that these people are walking with a purpose, working hard at getting or staying healthy and fit. It is great to get out in the morning, knowing that I’m not late for something or that I have to get work done. Stress eating, anyone? After all, desserts backwards spells stressed.

My ever-encouraging sister has come to walk with me, and I have gone to walk around her neighborhood with her. She was even good enough to drive around my area while I took notes on what roads went where and the mileage from place to place so I wouldn’t either get lost or overextend myself. She has explained to me her theory of “petiquette,” which she has decided is imperative to maintain safe streets (please keep your dogs out of her way and always scoop that poop!).

I am up to 3 miles at a time now, so during the course of a day, I can easily reach 6 miles. Armed with my trusty, official, Weight Watchers pedometer, I try to top 10,000 steps a day. All this from someone who used to drive out of the ShopRite parking lot if I couldn’t find a “good” parking space. Now I don’t care how far away from the store I park. It just adds to my daily step total.

When I am not walking, I spend my time studying Google Maps and Google Earth to plot new routes and discover new paths that don’t appear on the maps. When I drive these same routes, I am astounded that I can walk that far. Me, whose idea of exercise was getting out of the recliner and walking into the kitchen for a snack! Now I am plotting out 4-mile routes and wondering if I am strong enough to go even further.

I relish the peace and quiet of these walking sessions. There’s very little traffic, apart from the main road, so it is calming and safe to walk. I listen to the 5000+ songs on my iPod, really hearing the words for once. Who knew the lyrics to the Crystals’ “He’s a Rebel” were “he’s NOT a rebel,” and not “he’s MY rebel,” which I have been singing for years? I tend to listen to music from the last century – Broadway soundtracks, Kenny Loggins, the Eagles, anything Motown, Billy Joel and Simon & Garfunkel. The other day I heard the Turtles Greatest Hits, and another day it was Blood, Sweat and Tears. I listen to Wilson Pickett sing “Funky Broadway” and it makes me smile. When James Brown proclaims, “I feel good,” I want to dance down the street in agreement.

In the morning, it is me, the squirrels, rabbits and deer on the streets, along with the occasional runner. I marvel at the runners, their smooth, taut bodies gliding along, their feet lightly grazing the sidewalk or road, while I plod along. I notice their defined calf muscles and I am reminded of Leonardo DiVinci’s explanation of his sculptures, which he said he pictured within the blocks of granite with which he worked. I wonder, is there a tight, taut body hidden under my years of accumulated girth? Will I, too, someday be able to run? Is there a sports bra strong and bold enough to take up the challenge?

On the weekends, it is me and the lawn mowers. Now that I am exploring my neighborhood, I check out the neat and tidy lawns and notice which houses have additions and pools. I know which side of the street has the most shade at any given time of day, and I know where I have to avoid the sidewalk and the tree branches that hang too low even for me. I know where the sleeping dogs lie and I am ever so grateful for invisible fences that keep them away from me as I pass. I know to walk west in the morning and east in the evening to avoid the sun in my eyes. If I walk after 7:00 in the evening, I wear sunglasses and take my regular glasses so I can see as it gets darker. If there is even a threat of rain, I carry a small umbrella. I always wear a hat.

I have even ventured to local parks and pathways for a change of scenery and to keep the exercise fresh and interesting. Thanks to a friend from aqua aerobics, I discovered a pond hidden behind the housing development just across the main road. You can’t see it from the street, but you can follow a number of paths that lead to it and walk all the way around it. I can’t wait until fall, when the trees around it turn color and the sunrise/sunset will illuminate their leaves. I’ll be walking with a camera then. Meanwhile, I know to keep my head down and avoid the prodigious amount of poop deposited on the path by the flocks of geese that call the pond home.

One of my friends recently proposed that we walk all the trails listed on the County Park Commission website, and I jumped at the chance to start in the fall, when we can do one lap for exercise and another for me to take pictures. I’ve gone to the Grounds for Sculpture, Duke Farms, the Natirar estate, the tow path along the canal and Colonial Park in Somerset, all great places to take a walk.

I walk slowly, yet I cover nearly three miles in an hour, so I know I am getting faster. I remind myself to walk in my best homo sapien erectus manner and to avoid my usual slouching. I must fill out my full 5’ 1” frame before it gets even shorter.

For a break in the routine, one night I hauled out my bike, which I have used once since I bought it years ago. You know that expression, “It’s like riding a bike?” Well, that didn’t exactly work for me. Going straight was fine, but starting, stopping and steering were more challenging than I remembered, and I never had to tackle any uphill climbs. At least when I fell it was on grass and no one saw me, because I hurt more than my pride. But I was proud of myself for getting up, riding home, and immediately going out for a walk. I think I’ll tackle the exercise bike at the gym. I can’t fall off that – right?

My feet sometimes get blisters and my ankles and Achilles sometimes hurt, but I keep walking. I worry that I have been up and down a few streets so often that the residents must think I am casing the joint. I am sure that by fall I will be ready to take on a 5K walk for some good cause. I know it will be good for me, too. Meanwhile, I’ll just keep walking.