New Year's Eve in the Hofburg Palace~Oh! What a Night!

Heidi Goldman attends the Imperial Ball in Vienna, Austria New Year's Eve

Going to a ball on New Year’s Eve sounds glamorous.  Even romantic.  Twenty-three hundred Europeans dressed in jeweled ball gowns and starched tuxedos having a formal dinner in the Hofburg Palace in Vienna and me, a teacher from Tucson, Arizona living out this dream.  Everyone waltzing the night away, bringing in the New Year in style is like a fairy tale.  Too good to be true?  But, it was true.

Most people in the United States are either celebrating at a party in a friend’s house, paying exorbitant price fixe dinner rates at a restaurant with a complimentary glass of cheap bubbly at the end of the evening, or watching the ball drop in Times Square on television.  Sound familiar?  That’s what I always did, too, until I was invited to attend the Imperial Ball, the first ball of Vienna’s season on New Year’s Eve.

I wondered if I could even find a ball gown, a Cinderella dress to-die-for.  Not an easy task compared to how I would ever be able to ship it to Austria considering the voluminous size and many layers involved. But I did. Wrapped in a sheet, I reluctantly pushed and shoved my gown into its own suitcase and lovingly sent it on its way by plane with the rest of my luggage.

That resolved, other questions arose.  Would I fit into a limousine wearing a gown the size of a continent?  

The dress had taken on its own persona:  it had accessories, stood up on its own, weighed twenty-five pounds and took up an entire closet.

Heidi Goldman's Ball Gown

It’s one thing to go to a ball, but let’s face it, how does one go in a ball gown?  I didn’t have to face that dilemma yet, but I couldn’t help wonder.

You may assume I must know how to ballroom dance.  After all, everyone has been watching So You Think You Can Dance for seasons.  Considering I have two left feet, next came dance lessons only to discover that learning the Viennese Waltz is the most difficult dance to learn- it’s not the hokey pokey.  Humbly, I took many challenging lessons for months. 

Have tickets...Will Travel

Heidi Goldman's tickets to Vienna's Imperial Ball New Year's Eve

Fast Forward to December 31…

My date and I entered the Hofburg Palace, the center of the Habsburg empire for centuries and were overwhelmed by its size and grandeur.  We were welcomed by the Grenadiers of the K.K. Infantry and had champagne cocktails in the Entrance Hall of the palace.

Heidi Goldman New Year's Eve ~ Hofburg Palace Vienna, Austria

Men and women from around the globe wearing magnificent ball gowns and tuxedos, mingled and listened to a string quartet playing music by Strauss, the king of waltz.

Excitement overcame me and after my last sip, I rushed up the red carpeted marble staircase, no easy feat in a large gown, to see the Grand Festival Hall, where we would be spending New Year’s.  It is the largest and most opulent of all the rooms.  

The architecture, ceiling frescoes and enormous glittering, crystal chandeliers were exquisite.  Price of admission (Eur 540 pp) to this room included a four-course dinner, welcoming cocktail, white and red wine, mineral water, champagne, musical entertainment by live-orchestras, dancers, opera singers, dancing and an operetta at the end of the evening.

Once inside this fairy tale-like room that was elaborately appointed with enormous displays of red and white roses on pedestals, guests twirled to a traditional Viennese orchestra under the golden glow illuminated by the grandiose chandeliers, while others found their tables and joined people who would become new friends by night’s end.  

Our table comprised of two dignified Russian couples and two effervescent couples from Malta.

Heidi Goldman in white at the Imperial Ball Vienna, Austria
New Year's Eve

Suddenly a brass band marched into the room playing, The Radetsky March. This particular song in Vienna brings everyone to their feet, clapping wildly to the rhythm.  And tonight in all its splendor was no exception.

Costumed dancers then followed and on the raised stage, danced the traditional Polonaise. 

Guests returned to their seats for the next course, but when the other orchestra, a big band jazz ensemble began to play, everyone abandoned their table and returned to the dance floor.  I couldn’t believe I was in a palace, boogie-ing in a ball gown to In The Mood, Rock Around the Clock and current songs of Michael 

Buble to Stevie Wonder.

When the brass played regal music announcing the arrival of actors impersonating Emperor Franz Joseph and Empress Sisi, everyone stood up.  An entourage walked in front of the Imperial couple as they walked amidst the guests who immediately parted themselves on the dance floor, like Moses parting the Red Sea and were seated on stage in Baroque style chairs.

Emperor Franz Josef and Empress Sisi

Enthusiastic people counted down to midnight in their own languages yelling, “Happy New Year!” as sparkling fireworks lit up the big screen.

A ballet ensemble danced to the strains of The Blue Danube.  When they finished, Emperor Franz Joseph stood and thanked all of us for celebrating with him, wishing us peace, happiness and good fortune in the New Year in several languages.

Next, the operetta began.  For those of you who are thinking:  Boring!  Think again.  Viennese music is filled with a joie de vivre.  These internationally famed stars performed with joy and whimsy.

In the wee hours of the morning, a dance professional invited everyone to the dance floor to form a line facing one another and taught us hundreds of traditional steps so that we could try to participate in the Fledermaus-Quadrille.

The music raced wildly; people twirled rapidly, laughing and bumping shoulders.

Then, the Big Band, with its loud expansive sound played Cha Cha, Samba, Swing and popular music until three-thirty to a room of dance and party enthusiasts who wished the evening would never end.

The Imperial Ball at the Vienna Hofburg Palace is the event that begins the seasons of Balls.  So, for those of you who want to do something dazzling on New Year’s Eve, throw away your sweat pants, grab your tuxedo and elegant ball gown and waltz the night away into a spectacular New Year in the Hofburg Palace.  

Oh, What a Night!

Heidi Goldman ~ New Year's Eve in the Hofburg Palace ~ Vienna, Austria

The "It" Factor

When I was a little girl, my mother was the most glamorous woman I had ever seen.  To me she looked like a movie star.

Heidi Goldman's Mother
Helene Goldman

She had a perfect figure, Marilyn Monroe blonde hair that never moved an inch…frankly it wouldn’t dare.  

Even her hair stayed in line from the mini, but mighty Mom. She was always “dressed” in the fashion of the day, perfectly appointed with jewelry, furs and accessories that made me so proud to have her as my mother. She was my walking, talking Vogue magazine.  I couldn’t wait for her to volunteer in my class so I could show her off to all of my friends.

I remember one day I came home from school, concerned.  I told my mother we had to talk.  The latest fashions had just come out.

In my ten year old opinion, she needed an immediate wardrobe update.  She never blinked and eye.  I insisted she had to have the latest and greatest fashion:  mini skirts and go-go boots.  She just had to!

I don’t remember her response, but the next day after school she lead me into her room and on her king size bed were dresses, skirts, sweaters, silk blouses, belts, pockabooks, (it’s a New York thing) and Go-Go boots Galore in every color…it looked like a fashion spread out of Vogue.  And by today’s standards, this layout would have been pinned and repinned on Pinterest.

I couldn’t wait for PTA meetings and class excursions when she’d be a supervising parent-dressed to the nines.   I must say she was a vision in stilettos, camel-colored pencil skirt and matching cashmere sweater, butter-soft brown leather gloves, jewelry of course, and hair perfectly coifed…certainly not the attire of a mom joining a classroom full of kids going to the planetarium or the Wonder Bread factory where each student received a sample of delicious white bread-the bread of choice those years.

The other mothers on the excursion looked matronly in their baggy pants and Keds, compared to my haute couture fashion-plate.  It was the Jackie Kennedy years and my mother could have been her twin. She looked like she belonged on a run-way. 

Whether she was class-Mom with a lot of class or just hanging out with the family at Jones Beach or in a snow drift, my mother always had her own sense of style.

Helene Goldman in sequin bathing suit at  Jones Beach with proud daughter~Heidi Goldman

Heidi Goldman's mother, Helene Goldman
Snow Bunny

In the words of Coco Chanel: A girl should be two things: Classy and Fabulous.  That’s my mother.

Heidi Goldman (bottom left sneaking a peek) at
Helene Goldman and brother Bobby

Heidi Goldman's beautiful mother, Helene Goldman

Heidi Goldman's mother Helene Goldman
before Heidi was a twinkle in her eye.

Helene Goldman ~ The Glamour Years

Helene Goldman~The year of the floral hat
Stunning!

Heidi Goldman's mother, Helene Goldman
Just Gorgeous!

Heidi Goldman with her beautiful family

Ralph Lauren stated, “Style is very personal.  It has nothing to do with fashion.  Fashion is over quickly.  Style is forever.” So true and because of that statement I want to share with you my mother's most valuable asset and accessory:  Hats?  No.  Gloves?  No.  Shoes?  No.  Haute Couture?  Still no.  

Something far more important...   

My mother owns one special something that makes her more beautiful than most.  It’s not haute couture which is in style today, but gone tomorrow.  But what she does have is classic. And it’s not in her closet, unless she’s in there.  

It’s her smile.   Her smile brightens up even the darkest of rooms, radiating warmth and brilliance to everyone around her.  My mother has a joie de vivre…A certain je ne sais quoi…The “it” factor.  Whatever it is baby, she’s got it and then some!  

Heidi Goldman's radiant mother~Helene Goldman
Dazzling Smile~Dazzling Girl

Like Mother...

Heidi Goldman's glamorous mother, Helene Goldman

Like Daughter...

Heidi Goldman~Helene Goldman's dolled-up daughter

What can I say about the pose?  The love of fashion?

                                

               That’s the gene I definitely got!

I dedicate this little memoir to my mother: 

Helenista, the Fashionista. 

Don't Mess with Mabel!

Helene Goldman~Heidi Goldman's Fabulous Mother

My mother is an amazing writer and like many writers she only cares about the story.  She doesn’t care if she’s published or not.  She simply wants to write. 

Not me.  To me, being published is a sign of validation and when I heard about a contest that The Society Of Southwestern Authors was having, I suggested she send off  Dear Mabel, one of her short stories.

She poo-pooed me at first.  Then she said maybe, hoping that would be enough of a deterrent for me to stop nagging her to enter the contest.  But as a child, I learned that when a parent says, Maybe that means No, so I continued to suggest, beg and plead.  And still she said no.

So, I went to the computer and typed out her story, looked at the clock and had fifteen minutes to get to the post office to have the story postmarked before the five pm deadline.

Why should I hurry alone?  So, I demanded she come.  Mom basically came kicking and screaming, so to speak.  “I don’t know why you’re doing this to me.  I’m not going to win.  I don’t even care if I win.  I enjoyed writing the story.  That’s enough.”

Sounding uncharacteristically bossy,  I said “Get in the car!" And off we drove, with The Theme to Barber of Seville racing in my ears, my mother shaking her head at my stubbornness and we got her story postmarked with seconds to spare.  And I mean seconds.

Fast forward a few weeks.  My mother received an invitation from The Society of Southwestern Authors to attend a luncheon where they would announce the winners.

And guess what?  Unbeknownst to her, she was one of the winners being honored.

It is with great pleasure that I publish Helene Goldman’s story, Dear Mabel, on my blog.

Dear Mabel,

I have never written to you before but I have read all of your columns.  I never thought I’d have the courage to write to you about my problem.  I am married to a wonderful man.  He is the father of our two children.  He is the most important person in my life, but I’ve been living with a liar.

I’ve known for a long time he is married to another woman who lives one hundred miles from our home.  He also has children with her.  He doesn’t know I’ve found out about his secret, and I’m really not sure I want him to know that I am aware of his double life.

When I was growing up, my father walked out on my mother, my little brother and me.  Years later, I was told he was involved with another woman and got her pregnant.  My mother divorced him and worked two jobs in order to raise my brother and me.

She never went out and had fun, and even if she could she was too tired at the end of the day.  She never took her anger out on us.  She tried so hard to buy us whatever we needed and found time to play with us and encourage us to be all that we could be.

Now I am married to a very wealthy man.  For the first time in my life, I can have the kind of life I only dreamt about.  I belong to a country club, work for all the charities and my children attend private school.  I am a respected matron in my community.  I take care of my mother and because of my support, she doesn’t have to work any longer.

Now for my problem:  The woman my husband is married to is really my half sister.  Her mother is the woman my father left my mother to live with when he abandoned us.

I would truly love to meet my half sister, but at the same time she is married to my husband.  It creates quite a dilemma.  If I reveal my information to the authorities, they will arrest my husband for bigamy and he will be incarcerated.  That would bankrupt him.  It would be the end of my lifestyle and the security I value for our children.  If I say nothing, I realize I am committing a grave injustice, both  religiously and legally.

I don’t think his other wife is aware that he has another family, but I realize his children are related to ours.  It’s really become a complicated situation, and I am writing to you for advice and guidance.

S/Mums the Word

Dear Mums,

Nothing was ever settled by ignoring it.  You are entitled to an explanation of your husband’s impropriety since there is another family involved.  I think you ought to confront your husband and resolve this issue.

S/ Mabel

Dear Mabel,

Thank you for your advice; but of course it’s always easier to be objective when you’re not involved.  How would you like to become a street person- going from riches to rags?

S/Very Upset

Dear Very Upset,

You wrote to me in desperation asking for an objective opinion and I gave you my best shot.  If you are not happy with my advice, I would suggest you see your parish priest.  Let me hear from you.

S/Mabel

Dear Mabel,

I am really upset that I have started this communication with you.  How would you like to tell your priest that your husband, who happens to be a very big donor to the church, a counselor to the congregants and a respected assemblyman in the community, is really a lying bastard?  You really aren’t offering me any advice I can participate in.

S/Disgusted with You

Dear Disgusted,

I wasn’t aware that your husband was such a prominent member of the church and the community you live in.  I would further suggest that you seek help and see a family counselor in your area to help you work through your problem.  Keep me posted.

S/Mabel

Dear Mabel,

Your suggestion really blew me away.  How can I possibly follow your suggestion when my husband has the most prominent family practice counseling service in the community?  Don’t tell me to seek someone else.  I’m very well known by all the therapists practicing that specialty.

S/Annoyed with You

Dear Annoyed,

You really are in a difficult position.  Don’t give up hope.  Can you travel to the next city to seek help?  You would not be recognized there by any of the therapists and you could get the counseling you are seeking. Hope this will work.

S/Mabel

Dear Mabel,

Your advice will not work.  Aren’t you aware that all the therapists in this region are familiar with each other?  I trusted you and had hoped you would have a solution to my problem.  I’m beginning to doubt my confidence in you and I’m feeling deserted.

S/Forlorn

Dear Forlorn,

Please don’t feel no one cares.  I really do.  I am trying very hard to help you find a solution to your complicated problem.  First, I must ask you the name of the city one hundred miles from your home.  Waiting for your answer.

S/Mabel

Dear Mabel,

Aren’t you getting a little personal?  I had hoped to keep this entire affair anonymous; therefore I must ask, why are you inquiring about the name of the city?

S/Suspicious

Dear Suspicious,

The reason I asked you for the name of the city was so that I might help you find a therapist who might be discreet and who would help you with your dilemma.

S/Mabel

Dear Mabel,

Please excuse my last reply but you can’t blame me for feeling threatened at this point in my life.  I don’t know who to trust and I am trying to maintain a low profile while I pursue a course of action.

S/Heartbroken

Dear Heartbroken,

I sympathize with your domestic problems.  I am both glad and relieved that you have confidence in me to reveal the name of the city we are discussing.  I will try to be of assistance to you and hope we resolve this issue.

S/Mable

Dear Mabel,

I feel so relieved.  You really have made me feel more relaxed about the circumstances.  The city we are discussing is Summerville.  I appreciate the effort you are making on my behalf.

S/Confident at Last

Dear Confident,

Good news!  I’ve finally located a list of professionals, one of whom may be able to alleviate your problem.

S/Mabel

Dear Mabel,

I have made an appointment with one of the persons you recommended.  My husband’s other wife lives in that city, too.

S/Getting Excited

Dear Excited,

I’m glad I redeemed myself and you made an appointment to see one of the five therapists I suggested.  Hoping some of your concerns will be alleviated.  Keep in touch.

S/Mabel

Dear Mabel,

I like the therapist I finally selected.  She and I have great rapport.  She seems deeply concerned with my unfortunate situation.  Perhaps that is because our children are so similar in age, and she and I are, too.

S/Finally Understood

Dear Understood,

Thank you for continuing to share your experiences with me and for keeping me apprised of your situation.  There are always many fine professional therapists helping situations to become more bearable.  I’m sure my readers will agree with me.  Continue to share with me.

S/Mabel

Dear Mabel,

I can’t believe my therapist and I have so much in common.  She is understanding and compatible.  I feel as though she is my friend and not my psychologist.  She is very sympathetic about my situation and is helping me through this period of adjustment.  I think I am finally becoming strong enough to take a stand and make a decision.

S/Decisive

Dear Decisive,

Wonderful news!  You have progressed quickly, and you sound self-assured and ready to take charge of your life at last.

S/Mabel

Dear Mabel,

The break through finally happened.  I’ve decided to divorce my husband.  My therapist is like a sister to me and has encouraged me to have the strength of character that I never knew I had.  I’m going to tell my husband my intentions.

S/Almost Free

Dear Almost Free,

You sound happy and secure with your decision.  I would caution you not to move too freely.  You are facing a major decision in your life; think it through carefully.  Therapists are only there to guide you, not to make decisions for you.

S/Mabel

Dear Mabel,

You are a dear person to be so caring about my decision.  I’ve made up my mind.  I’m going to divorce my husband and move to Summerville to be near my therapist.  She is a wonderful friend and is looking forward to our relationship.  I’m very happy and lucky to have found her.

S/Renewed

Dear Renewed,

Your letter saddens me.  In the field of psychology, therapists are not supposed to become involved with their patients.  I fear she has crossed the line and that is unacceptable behavior.  Please have second thoughts before you commit.

S/Mabel

Dear Mabel,

Too late!  The worst possible scenario has occurred.  I confronted my husband, finally.  He admitted tearfully to his indiscretions, but I was totally unprepared for his confessions.  His wife in Summerville was though unknown to me at the time, my therapist.  She, in turn, knew who I was and used her influence and power of persuasion to convince me that the relationship with my husband was unhealthy.

She suggested the best possible solution was divorce.  In the mental state I was in, and believing her to have my best interests at heart, I of course accepted the theories she subscribed to.  She, all along, only wanted me to divorce my husband without suspecting her motives.  My husband, who incidentally is her husband too, would no longer be considered a bigamist.

When I confronted my husband and he confirmed his infidelity, he informed me that my therapist was his wife in Summerville.

Blinded with rage and anger, I ran up to my bedroom where I had a revolver in my night table.  I removed it, placed it in my purse and drove the one hundred miles back to Summerville.  I was seething;  I had been so terribly deceived.  I ran stumbling into her office and pulled the trigger, killing her instantly.

I am writing to you from my prison cell, and I am in desperate need of a lawyer.  Can you help me?

S/Incarcerated

Inmate No. 715316606