By SANDRA LORD — Caribbean (read bio)

(©) 2010 Lord Sisters. All Rights Reserved.

When I see the Real Housewives of any city or state, or any of the other reality TV shows whose very success thrives on drama replete with backstabbing, jealousy, envy, division and the destruction of friendship/relationships, I have to ask, WHAT does “friendship” mean these days?

Whenever I read or hear about a source “close” to a celebrity or public figure revealing privileged information to tabloid media, I cringe. Who are these close sources? Surely they must be people who are trusted enough to be in that person’s inner circle. Doesn’t that in itself count for something? Whatever happened to loyalty, as in “I got your back,” to those people whom we call friends?

Meaningful friendship — you know, the type exemplified in the beautiful lyrics of the Golden Girls theme song that starts with, “Thank you for being a friend…your heart is true you’re a pal and a confidant…” or what Dionne Warwick meant when she crooned, “That’s what friends are for… knowin’ you can always count on me for sure…in good times, and bad times, I’ll be on your side forever more,” or Simon & Garfunkel with “Bridge Over Troubled Water,” or Carole King with “You’ve Got A Friend” — seems to be dying a slow, painful death.

Nowadays, as everyone fights to get into the spotlight by any means necessary, these great lyrical expressions of gratitude, loyalty and unflinching support go out the window faster than Heidi Montag will go under a plastic surgeon’s knife. (more…)

By Guest Blogger: SANDRA GLUSCHANKOFF — Argentinian (read bio)

One, two, five… ten. One.

That was the number of homeless men I counted while I strolled two blocks down a very quaint little town in the Central Coast of California.

Ten men and one woman.

The ages? Very hard to guess.

Under the many layers of clothing they wore, and behind the deep creases in their skin left by the incessant beating of the sun, these men could’ve been anywhere between their twenties and forties.

This is not the first time I have encountered homeless people in my life.

I come from a country where hobos are an institution. It is a tough pill to swallow because down there, a huge number of these beggars are children. Unlike the adults we are used to seeing begging on the streets wearing everything they own, these children are barely dressed. Their feet are blistered from their constant barefoot walking on the rough pavement and their faces smeared with dirt from their precarious living conditions. (more…)