It’s no secret that I’m a bit high strung, but I learned long ago that pharmaceuticals are not the answer for what ails me. I used to apologize for my idiosyncrasies, but the older I get—well, what would Popeye say? My friend Lynne was just here for a visit, and it was nice to have company for the last few days. Because we’ve known each other since junior high, there was no need for apologies or excuses, and I could just be myself, “warts and all” —which is totally liberating and far less exhausting than having to be on my best behavior for days on end. Who has time for that? As usual, I had a jam-packed schedule of events to attend, and although Lynne is perfectly content to just hang out and catch up, she is always game to tag along and join in the fun that is my crazy, crazy life.

I wasn’t particularly nervous about taking her to a concert at Bethel Woods, where Peter Frampton and the Steve Miller Band were on the bill last Friday, but it appeared that Frampton was, and his performance was (IMHO) a bit wooden and weird, until he warmed up. While I frantically photographed the show, Lynne was far less critical and simply enjoyed the music and people watching, which is often worth the price of admission. When I joined her during a break, she suggested that I might want to “calm down,” so I took a few deep breaths in lieu of medication. “When did they get so old?” I asked Lynne, as I reviewed the photos I had just taken, noting the wrinkles and gray hair on stage. “Have you looked in a mirror?” she laughed in response. “You and I met in 1967,” she added. “Do the math!” Steve Miller seemed more at ease than Frampton, but when both played together, sharing anecdotes about their respective careers and lifelong friendship, he seemed to be more relaxed, just as I was with Lynne’s non-prescription encouragement, making me more likeable, too.

“You sure do get around,” Lynne said on the ride home, referring to a party we attended the day before, honoring Cathy Paty, who has stepped down as the president and CEO of the Sullivan County Chamber of Commerce in order to pursue new adventures. I wasn’t particularly flustered at the going-away shindig, but I was a little emotional (we’ve been friends for years) and busied myself taking photos of Cathy and her many well-wishers, including New York State Senator John Bonacic, who also shared that he would miss Cathy and her infectious smile. With my arm in a sling and my dog in a stroller, I felt like a jerk, and made my way home where I meditated (instead of medicated) and went to bed, a little bit nervous about my appearance the following day “entertaining” at a fundraiser for the Bethel Council of the Arts (BCA) in Kauneonga Lake.

“If it can go wrong, it will,” I scrawled in my notebook backstage as the sound system failed and workmen showed up to noisily build a deck just outside the open door of the BCA gallery, where dozens of fans whirred in defiance of the record-breaking heat wave that had descended on our neck of the woods. Just as I took my seat, I admitted to the sold-out crowd that my nerves were a bit frayed and actually popped half a (prescribed for my seizure-related illness) Xanax right in front of them; that elicited a laugh and eased the tension, but by then the damage was done. While waiting for my medication to kick in, I regaled the audience with lackluster stories about my checkered career and thought of Peter Frampton, wondering if he ever used pharmaceuticals to calm down while performing.

“Woulda, shoulda, coulda,” I mumbled to myself as I weakly shook hands with folks after the show, imploring them to support the arts in spite of my poor attempt to entertain, while simultaneously advising against abusing prescription medication. “There’s nothing funny about using drugs,” I said in closing, before slinking out the door. “And today was a perfect example. When in doubt,” I said, wagging a finger at the crowd. “Just say ‘no.’”