A Year Ago Today

 A year ago I was sitting at my desk at work, and my cell phone rang. I saw the display name that it was coming from Beth Sholom, the home where my mother lived. I had not been happy with something that had happened when I had visited her that previous Sunday. I thought they were calling to discuss the situation with me. I got up to take the call in private, and, for someone who usually can remember everything, I can't really recall the words that were said, but the call was to tell me that she had passed away. I knew that she was probably not going to live much longer, in fact I had prayed for God to take her if he couldn't find a way for me to move her out of the home and in with me, but I was still shocked when the call came. I don't think we're ever prepared to hear that we've lost a loved one. I wasn't prepared. In my way, I held it together while the nurse was talking to me. I asked the questions I thought I needed to, and then I went out to tell my supervisor that my mother had died, and I needed to leave. She hugged me, and I fought it, as I usually do, because I always have to hold it together. She didn't let go of me, and I started to sob. I collected myself pretty quickly because I was the resident grown-up now, and I had to start making some plans and taking care of things, make arrangements. A year has come and gone, and so many things have happened. Some days have been worse than others. It took me a while to pull myself out after Mom first died. For a while, I really didn't care about anything. I had never experienced that in my life before, not even when my husband left me and the girls. I did finally come out of it. I'm not really sure when or what caused it, but I started to feel "normal" for lack of a better word. That's not to say that I don't still miss her, I do. I'm sure I always will. Heartland Hospice had a memorial service in May for all of their patients who had passed away in the previous year last May. It was a beautiful day, and the setting was a gorgeous chapel on a hill. It had been 10 months since Mom had left us, but I cried as if it had happened the day before the service. Sometimes I still cry, but now I laugh too when I think about different times we had together. Oh, and that piece of coconut cake..it still sits in the freezer uneaten, and it probably always will. 

Hurry Up and Grieve!

 In a few short minutes it will be midnight, and the date will be October 18, 2022. What's special about 10/18/22, you say? Well, really nothing special, not to the world anyway, but to me. The 18th of any month is going to be a day I remember. The 18th will mark 2 months since I received a call at work at 2:45 in the afternoon telling me that my mother had passed away, Today has been hard, my friends! That is difficult for me to say, and even worse for me to feel because I have always been the one to "hold it together." I fall apart at movies, TV shows, even commercials, but real life? Not this gal. So today, the 17th, I have been crying on and off all day, and I'm not just talking about shedding a tear or two. I'm talking weeping, audible, can't catch my breath, sobbing. It started this morning as I looked out into my backyard while I was eating breakfast. I just started to cry. Then all day, at random times I would start to cry again and have to pull myself together. I kept thinking, Stop! This isn't me. I don't do this. You're the rock, Terri. You keep yourself together," but I couldn't today, no matter how hard I tried. Now, people will say, it's ok to cry, and I know that, but I am a person who needs to know why so I can fix it. The problem is I can't fix this one. My mom is not coming back, and I can't change that. Now, I have been through a lot of shit in my life, if you follow this blog, I've written about a lot of it, and people have always said, "You're so strong!" You start to believe the hype, ya know? I'm not saying I'm not strong, I am. If not, I'm not sure I would have survived, but being that strong person made me feel like I couldn't break. Forget break, I don't even allow myself to bend. Here's the thing. I'm putting all of this on myself. I'm setting some time limit on grieving like there's a cutoff. I talked a lot today to both of my girls, and they were both wonderful and supportive as they always are, and I realized something. In the last year that I was able to actually see my Mom in the nursing facility, she really didn't talk all that much, so I would go visit and just tell her about life for the week we'd been apart. That's gone now, and I think it really hit me today how lonely that makes me feel. I was just telling her stupid stories about work or some idiot on the highway, but she listened to me and sometimes offered an opinion, or I'd say, "remember that time we...., "and she might smile and add a little to the story. All of that's gone, and I find that incredibly sad. I guess I'm not at the "memories comforting me" stage yet, and I might not be there for a long time, and today I might have taken the first step to tell myself that's ok. No little quips or sarcastic remarks today, just straight up what I'm going through. I'm going to really try hard to give myself some time, and stop saying, "stay strong" all of the time. For now, I think "fall apart" will do me more good. 

An Uneaten Slice of Coconut Cake

My daughter and I were riding home from work together on Wednesday evening, and as we passed the new Ukrops Market Hall at the corner of Horsepen and Patterson you could smell the famous fried taters they make, and she asked if we could stop there as she had never been. I pulled into the parking lot, and we went in. We looked around for a few minutes, and as I passed by the cakes I noticed that they had Coconut cakes by the slice. Coconut Cake has always been one of my mom's favorites. When I visit her in the nursing home, I always try to take her a treat, something she loves, a baked potato with all the fixin's, a milkshake, ice cream, my carrot cake (which she has apparently shared about with several of the nurses) and a good Hanover Tomato sandwich. I was able to take her all those things at one time or another, but never Ukrops Coconut Cake because I was never able to find it by the slice. I was thrilled and grabbed a slice to take with me on my visit Friday. Thursday afternoon, yesterday, around 2:45 pm, I got the call that my mother had passed. She had been in Hospice Care for some time - shoutout here to Heartland Hospice! They were amazing! - and in the past 2 weeks she had definitely declined, and I wanted her to cross over as I knew she would be at peace, but it was still a shock. It's funny the little things that we think about when we grieve. I thought about the fact that she didn't get her slice of coconut cake. It is sitting in the fridge on the shelf, and she didn't get it. She wasn't expecting it. It was just something I saw and picked up because I knew she would love it. I am sure I will have that same thought again when I am out or when I make Carrot cake this Thanksgiving or even next summer when Hanover tomatoes are at their ripest that I should take mom this sandwich or slice of cake, she would love this and then realize she is not there to take anything to....I know I just ended the sentence with a preposition, but today is not about grammar. The point is, we are not guaranteed time with anyone. We will all die someday, that is a fact, we just don't know when. I know it's cliché, but make the most of your time for yourself and the people you love. Like all mothers and daughters we had our issues, but in these last 2 years as roles have been reversed, I have had the time to be with her without all the mess of the world. I would just visit and talk. We'd laugh about Andy Griffith or The Golden Girls or she'd ask me questions about what was going on as we sat there and watched Toy Story, or I'd mock the ridiculous, predictable plot of a Hallmark Channel movie, and she'd laugh. I loved my mom, and I know that she knew that. In fact it's the last thing she said to me when I left her room last Sunday afternoon, and they were also the last words she heard from me. I really can't ask for more than that. I am so glad she is at peace and with my dad, and her parents, and best friend and loving pets, but I know I will never pass by coconut cake again and not think of her, and the uneaten slice in the fridge.

Falling Angels

Today is Friday, September 13^th, but I am not going to write about black cats crossing my path or walking under a ladder being bad luck or all of the theatre superstitions I TOTALLY follow. Today, I want to write about something that everyone was writing about 2 days ago, September 11^th. This is not going to be a minute by minute reminiscence of what I went through that day 18 years ago. This will be more about the feeling I had then and still. On the eleventh I was scrolling through Facebook, I usually do that once a day now, far less than I used to, but I came across a post of an article on my feed. I follow the comedian Elayne Boosler, and she had posted a beautiful article that ran in Esquire magazine called The Falling Man. If you are old enough to actually remember details about that day in the late summer of 2001, you know exactly what this article was about. If you are not, you are lucky. A tiny bit of backstory about me and that day. I have a very photographic memory, not the kind that is instant recall of books I’ve read or papers I’ve seen. My eyes are not cameras, but life event emotions and feelings, I can play them back in my head just like they are a movie, and certain memories are not the kind you want to see over and over again. Unfortunately, once I’ve seen it, I can’t shake it. 9/11 was filled with those pictures. For that reason, I did not watch the news for several days after it happened. It was easy immediately after because I was working at an elementary school, and we were told not to discuss it with the children. No TV’s were on. The days that followed were harder for this TVholic, but I purposely kept the set off. One of the first images I did see, and I think it was in print was a photo of 2 people falling past one of the Towers. They had jumped out of the windows of the Skyscraper. I was overcome with sadness, and a sick feeling welled up inside of me. The desperation, the fear, the absolute horror these people must have felt to leap out of a window 100’s of floors above the ground. Let me pause here and say, I have never had suicidal thoughts. I don’t know what that’s like, but I know that they exist, and are very hard to fight. However, if I had been on the floor with those people that day, I may have made the same choice. And here’s the thing, I do not believe they were committing suicide but instead choosing how they would die that day. They knew that death was inevitable. They knew they were not getting out of this situation alive. They chose “Escape” that day, escape from choking smoke and intense heat, and literally burning alive, and damn anyone who judges them for the choices they made. Yet we have shunned those images and put them away quietly. Whenever someone does speak of them, people freak out. How awful that someone took pictures of that! How disrespectful! How demeaning! The Esquire article was a beautiful tribute to these people. Why have they been left out of “NEVER FORGET?” If anything, I think those images paint a very clear picture of the fear of that day and exactly what was happening. Terrorists decided to execute hundreds of people that day. The people who jumped that day simply wanted the dignity to die in their own way. They were not going to let someone else decide how they would die. People jumped from the Hindenburg, and they were the ones who survived. I am sure they did not know as they jumped from the massive, ball of flame that they would land alive. No one judges them. The heroic people of Flight 93 chose to wreck their plane into a field knowing they would die, but they would thwart evil by doing it. They are revered and remembered as well they should be! Some place the number at 200 people who jumped or fell from the Towers that day. 200 people that we don’t want to remember. These are the images that show us how horrible it was in a mental capacity, and that makes us uncomfortable. We wonder if we might have made that choice, and that scares us. Faced with burning alive, I am not ashamed to say, I would have, as I read in the beautiful article in Esquire, “jumped into the arms of God” with full faith that he would catch me and take me home. God bless all of the “Falling” Angels. I remember you, and grieve for you and mourn the loss of your soul in this world.

Then They Came For Me

Survivors

70 years! What a very long time. 70 years ago, it would still be almost 20 years before I would come into this world. My mother was only 5 years old. My grandparents were 34 and 36. No, I am not writing this so that you will know the ages of my family in 1945. What happened 70 years ago today changed the world as we know it. Auschwitz, one of the Nazi's concentration camps was liberated on January 27, 1945. I cannot imagine what the remaining prisoners must have felt after the horrors they had seen and made to endure daring themselves to believe that it could all be over. How could they even imagine waking up on a morning and not wondering if this would be the day they would die or be killed? We can read memoirs and articles and books, and see movies and television shows and be absolutely shocked, but none of us will ever know what any of those people endured.
What allows someone to survive such unspeakable treatment? How can such evil exist? How can one human being treat another human being so terribly simply because they are different? I wish I had an answer. I don't. It is unfathomable to me that people could be so cruel and actually enjoy it.
This day has been designated as International Holocaust Remembrance Day. REMEMBRANCE DAY. Webster defines remember as to have or keep an image or idea in your mind of (something or someone from the past) to think of (something or someone from the past) again. According to this definition, there are very few left who can remember. I wish it were called something else. Remember seems too trivial to me. I want it to be called International Holocaust this happened, and we can never forget that it happened Day. I am so lucky to have grown up in relative comfort and without fear. So many don't. What these people were forced to do on a daily basis would have made me want to run just so that some SS guard's bullet would put me out of my misery, but so many endured, and lived to tell the story the Nazi's tried so hard to cover up. Thousands of people killed a day, a day, and one man convinced a nation it was the right thing to do. That scares the hell out of me! " The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing." ~ Edmund Burke
What would have happened if one person had stood up for the right when it first started? We sit back and say, Well, it's not here. It's not happening to me. What can I do? I'm only one person?

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

Smile Though Your Heart Is Aching

When I was in high school and hanging out with my theatre friends, we would entertain each other for hours quoting routines from a comedy album called "Reality, What a Concept." The comedian we were imitating was Robin Williams. He had a unique style of just spilling out every thought, and all of it was comic genius. I would often share how amazing it would be to see the lightning speed at which his brain was working. I first saw Robin Williams as an extra player on a revival of "Laugh-In" Shortly after that he appeared in an episode of one of my favorite shows called "Happy Days" Richie Cunningham is visited by an alien named Mork from the planet Ork. The character sparked a spin-off called "Mork and Mindy" I never missed it. He delivered lines so fast, and they were so funny, that I missed half of them for laughing so hard. Then along came a film called "The World According to Garp" This was quite a departure for Williams. It was not a comedy. He proved his acting chops, and role after role followed. Some comedies but just as many serious roles. In "Good Morning, Viet Nam" he found a vehicle to use both his comedic and dramatic talents, and it garnered him an Oscar nomination. He would receive 3 additional nominations for "Dead Poet's Society," "The Fisher King," and "Good Will Hunting." He won in 1998 for "Good Will Hunting" A whole new generation, including my own children, got to experience his comedy when he voiced The Genie in Disney's "Aladdin." I cannot imagine what the lead animator went through trying to bring his manic, improvisational style to life. Then came "Mrs. Doubtfire." Of all of his films except "Aladdin" this is the one I've seen the most. When I'm channel surfing and catch it on a channel, I will usually stop and watch it from whatever point it's at until the end. Yes, he's funny, but also extremely touching and insightful. I've seen him interviewed countless times, and I always have pity for the interviewer. They pretty much just have to sit back until Robin comes back from whatever rabbit hole he's jumped down. My favorite of all interviews I've ever seen was "Inside the Actor's Studio" He takes a pink scarf from an audience member and does a solid 4 and 1/2 minutes of hilarious improvisational comedy. The amount of talent is beyond anything I have ever seen and probably will ever see.
Robin Williams died today from an apparent suicide. He was 63 years old. The reports say he had been struggling with depression, and had entered re-hab recently for his drug addiction. He was always very honest and open about his drug problems early on. He was quoted as saying, "Cocaine is God's way of telling you you are making too much money." He knew the dangers and he knew the consequences, but life is not cut and dried. There are no easy answers to anything when depression is involved. This fabulously talented man who spent his life making other people laugh was struggling. My heart aches that such a bright light is gone from this world. O, captain, my captain, rest in peace.

And in the End....

We're all going to die. That's the plain and simple truth. No one lives forever, so death is no surprise. It is how and when we die that troubles us. I remember seeing a made-for-tv movie when I was 10 about a woman who was dying of cancer. I can't remember the entire movie, but I think it was probably the first time I had ever heard of cancer. My family has no history of cancer, so I had never dealt with a relative having the disease. I do remember thinking, even though I was only 10, if I ever get cancer, and they tell me there's nothing they can do, I'm not going to have chemo therapy because I want to live what little time I have left not being sick as a dog. Now, let me interject here. I am not saying that no one should have chemo therapy who has cancer. I know how much good it can do. I have seen it help my friends. In this particular film it was a matter of you have very little time. We can extend your life a little bit, but you'll be sick for the rest of your days kind of thing. I decided then that I didn't want THAT! 40 years later, at age 50. I still feel that way. At least I say I would make that decision, but, truth be told, I don't think any of us can make a decision like that until we hear those actual words, "There's nothing we can do." I have been catching episodes of a show called Chasing Life. It centers around a young woman in her 20's who has been diagnosed with Leukemia. As she deals with having cancer she meets a young man who has a brain tumor. He tells her that he has opted not to have surgery to try and remove the tumor because of the risks of going into a coma or living life as a vegetable. He wants to die with dignity and his mind in tact. That poses the question is it life we want or quality of life? Right now, without the threat of death hanging over my head, I would choose quality of life even if it was shorter. But....ask me again if living a few extra months, even in a weak and sick state,  would allow me to see my daughters get married or my first grandchild born, and I may have a different outlook all together. I found out today that someone I know has heard those words, and it made me think, and it pissed me off, and I wasn't going to give it the Mary Sunshine treatment and look at the bright side. Let's be honest. When someone tells you you are going to die. This awful thing you have is going to kill you, there is no bright side, and frankly it pisses me off more when people try to offer phrases like, "You've lived a full life," or "5 or 10 more years, that's pretty good!" I'm sorry! No it's not. It's SHIT! I know people mean well when they say these things, but sometimes it's just better to own what's wrong and face it head on, and know we don't always have to put on a brave front. It's okay to be mad as hell that you have cancer and it's going to rob you of your life. I mean, come on! You have cancer! I didn't tell my friend anything except that I was sorry, and I was here for him. And isn't that all we really want in life is someone to be there for us in good times and bad? It doesn't make the rough times easy, but it sure as hell makes them a lot less hard!

"This is Jim Rockford. At the tone, leave your name and message. I'll get back to ya."

Certain actors just captivate you! All they have to do is come on the screen and your eye is drawn to them. James Garner was one of those actors! He was a master of the comedic take and the definition of smooth. Older generations probably first knew him as TV's Bret Maverick and then Jim Rockford on "The Rockford Files" I don't remember watching "Maverick," but I do remember "The Rockford Files." I wasn't really interested in that show, I kind of considered it a "guy's show." When I hear someone mention "The Rockford Files" I always think of a scene from the comedy, "Fraser" between Daphne and Martin discussing the show "The Rockford Files" and how upset Martin gets when Daphne confides to Martin that he reminds her of Rocky, Jim's father. Martin had always fancied himself as the smooth PI, James Garner played, and Daphne's observation struck quite a blow to Martin's ego. I first became enamored of James Garner when I saw him in one of my favorite movies, Victor, Victoria. He plays a straight Chicago Kingpin, who surprisingly finds himself attracted to a female impersonator. The female impersonator, unbeknownst to the public, is actually a "woman pretending to be a man pretending to be a woman" played wonderfully by Julie Andrews. Garner plays the handsome, suave, Man's man to a tee which makes it all the funnier when he finds out the woman he just saw perform this amazing, sexy musical number is actually a man, well, sort of. Confused? Find it and watch it! You won't be disappointed! About 3 years later a movie came out called "Murphy's Romance" starring Sally Field and James Garner. In the movie, two men are vying for her attentions, one, young and very good looking and the other, older but very handsome and charming. The older character is played by James Garner. I was 22 when I saw the film, but I remember thinking, I would pick the older guy. There is a scene in the film where James Garner's character finally kisses Sally Field.

Later in an interview Field said it was the most gratifying screen kiss she had ever received. James Garner received an Oscar nomination for his role in the film. Today's generation probably knows James Garner best as Ryan Gosling's character living out his twilight years in "The Notebook" If you're going to watch that one, get out your tissues. He also stepped back into TV in one of the most difficult ways. In 2003 he joined the cast of "8 Simple Rules" It's star, John Ritter, had passed away suddenly and unexpectedly. Instead of the series going off the air, the show continued and dealt with the death of the actor by dealing with the death of his character on the show. James Garner came in as the Grandfather, and played what he played so well, the man to go to when you needed advice, compassion, or sometimes just a good kick in the pants to send you in the right direction. 

James Garner died yesterday at the age of 86. He will be sorely missed.

Keep Reaching for the Stars

When I was growing up, things were so much different than they are now. Music was then and still is now a big part of my life, but when I really began to listen to pop music I was probably in 4th grade. That would have been around 1974 or so. Being that it was 1974, if you wanted to listen to music, you tuned into the local radio station. I am so old that when I first started to listen to the radio regularly, we listened to AM. The  one I listened to most was WLEE. I can remember those days of sitting and just waiting for your favorite song to come on. Since we couldn't get on the Internet and pull up Youtube or sign on to iTunes and purchase whatever song we wanted for 99 cents, it felt like you hit the jackpot when those tunes hit the airwaves. I remember how thrilled I was when I got a cassette recorder that taped directly from the radio. We would sit for hours waiting for our favorite song so we could press PLAY and RECORD simultaneously to tape it to have to listen to at will. You could purchase music in the form of a 45, short for 45 RPM or revolutions per minute. It was a small vinyl record about the size of a desert plate with usually the "hit" on one side, and the "flip" side had another song by the same artist. The reason the radio was so popular was because there was no way to take music in the car unless you happened to be rich back then and had a cassette player in your dash. Needless to say, I spent many hours listening to the radio and the music of the day, the songs you heard on American Bandstand every Saturday. Along with daily listening, there was something really special to listen to on Sundays, American Top 40. This 3 hour program counted from 40 down to the number 1 song of the week. It was hosted by Casey Kasem. My sister and I never missed AT40, and a big highlight of our years was Casey's countdown of the top hits of the whole year. It was usually played on New Year's Eve, and we would be down at my Aunt Beulah's waiting for them to play the number 1 song. Some of the ones I remember, Don't Go Breakin' My Heart by Elton John and Kiki Dee, Rock the Boat by Hues Corporation and who could forget You Light Up My Life by Debby Boone? Because we were such avid fans, Casey Kasem became a friend every week for 3 hours. He had a great voice that was so easy to listen to, and it always felt friendly and comfortable. Because of his wonderful voice he also voiced several cartoon characters, the most famous being Shaggy of Scooby-Doo fame. Casey Kasem passed away a few days ago. He was 82. I am sure many, as I do, feel they have lost a childhood friend. Because of AT40 and his cartoon work, generations knew him. In fact when I told my girls, 21 and 18, that Casey Kasem had passed away, they both questioned, "Shaggy?" Casey signed off of every American Top 40 broadcast with the same phrase, "Keep your feet on the ground, and keep reaching for the stars." He did reach for the stars and captured them. Rest in peace.

Forever Young

When I was little probably one of the first people I saw in movies who made me think, "Hey, I want to do that," was Shirley Temple. I can remember watching her movies on Saturday mornings back when we had 4 channels to choose from. She started her career in 1931 at the age of 3. In the films I remember most she was probably no more than 5 or 6, about the same age I was. In reality the films had been re-released, and she was actually 41 when I was watching her tap and sing as an adorable little girl. Shirley had a rare quality, something you don't see very often these days in child stars. She was extremely talented, yes, but she wasn't obnoxious and annoying as so many children with fame thrust upon them tend to be. She was the "biggest star in the world" at a very young age. What an awesome responsibility  She danced and acted with some of the greats of the 30's era, Buddy Ebsen, Jack Haley, Alice Faye and one of my hometown greats, Bill "Bojangles" Robinson as well as many others. With her signature golden ringlets and impish smile, she charmed her way into the hearts of generations. My own children were enthralled by her as well as I am sure many will be in the future. She was a true American Icon, and she will be missed but remain in our hearts forever young.

Thanks for Sharing

I recently saw a film called Thanks for Sharing. The film is specifically about sex addiction, but it really opened up a world to me that a lot of us don't see. More importantly, we don't want to see it. It is the world of the addict. When we hear addict we think junkie, someone holed up in some crack house, or shooting up in some alley. There are all kinds of addicts, and I am sure that some people I interact with every day have some kind of addiction. I just don't know about it. They keep it well hidden, but, oh, what a struggle that must be! I do not have an addictive personality. I've never done drugs. I've never smoked, not even for a role on stage. In fact I almost turned down an amazing role years ago because the character was a chain smoker, and when I was offered the role, I turned it down initially telling the director I would love to do the role, but I wasn't going to smoke. She told me they had already decided, given the small space, to eliminate that part of the character. Break for me. I drink alcohol maybe once or twice a year, and never enough to hardly get tipsy. I have some very strong pain medication that I take when I have kidney stones, but I only take them for the pain, and proof of that is that I have a prescription that is years old, and there are still several pills left. I did not list all those things to say, "Look at me! I'm a saint!" I just believe that people are wired differently, and I thank God that I am not wired to fall prey to addiction.
I grew up around addiction. My father was an alcoholic. Now, before I go any further I want to say right now that I loved my Daddy. I don't share this to tarnish him in any way. In fact I was very proud of him when he stopped, and spent the rest of his days as a recovering alcoholic, but it was not easy to be around as his child. When I was very young I don't remember much about it at all, probably because I spent most of the time at my grandmother and grandfather's house just 6 doors down from our own. But.. being the stubborn child I was I do remember once, around age 6 or 7, that I insisted on spending a Friday night in my own house rather than do the usual spending the weekend at my grandparent's as my sister had. My father was not home when I went to bed, but I remember distinctly waking up to yelling and peering through my parent's bedroom door and seeing my father pick up the end of the fourposter bed, and slam it back down to the floor in anger. I quickly went back to bed. I had never seen my dad like that. Let me also add here that my dad was never physically abusive with any of us. As I grew older, in my teens, especially my high school years, my dad never had dinner with us because he would start drinking beer when he got home and would continue beer after beer until around 10 or 11 at night when he was finally ready to eat, and my mother would fix him dinner. If I happened to stick around to interact with my dad after several beers I would almost always leave irritated. When my dad drank beer he would become what I would call a pitiful drunk constantly asking me if I loved him. He would get very thick tongued and unsteady on his feet. I usually didn't stick around for the end stages. I hated it!!!! When my dad drank hard liquor he would get very mean and sarcastic, and often times he would go out driving, something that is incomprehensible to me now. He did this even after I was hit by a drunk driver at the age of 11 resulting in over 100 stitches in my face as the result of the back window exploding in my face. That alone proves it was and is a disease. My father loved me immensely! He would never deliberately put me or anyone else in danger. But I will be honest. I judged him then. I thought how awful it was that he wouldn't stop drinking. He didn't see himself as having a problem. He could handle it. Isn't it that way with so many addicts? I remember how hurt he was when my future in-laws had an open bar at my rehearsal dinner and I asked him to please not drink. It wasn't like it is now back then. People didn't talk about these things. Nobody shared. It wasn't viewed as a problem. I am not sure what the catalyst was that made him stop. It was after I was married and out of the house for a few years, but he did, and he stayed sober for the rest of his days here with us. I was so glad when my children came along that he was sober because they loved him deeply and he them, and they were able to have a wonderful relationship with their Papa because he was not under the influence, but I'm sure every day was a struggle for him.
My last post was about Philip Seymour Hoffman's tragic death due to a heroin overdose. A statement was made by another celebrity over social media that his death was stupid. Maybe that person was trying to convey that taking heroin to begin with was stupid and he should have had more self control and made better choices. Easier said than done, my friend.  After all, isn't addiction the very definition of being out of control? A good friend of mine posted an article today on Facebook about this very mentality and how dangerous it is. I don't think anyone has ever said this better to open our eyes to the life of an addict. Why did I share all this today? Because keeping it quiet is part of the problem. Shaming is part of the problem. Judging is part of the problem. I'd rather be part of the solution.

Sometimes You Just Have to Ask, "Why?"

Today is a sad day. Today the world has lost one of its finest young actors, Philip Seymour Hoffman. I say young because to me, he was. Only 46, 4 years younger than I, but really young in the fact that he had so much more to share with the world. An amazing talent, he began his career in 1991 at the age of 24. I first heard of his death when my daughter called me from college because she was hoping it was a hoax, and asked me if it was true. At this point, the wire services had already picked up the story, and his death had been confirmed. Being a budding actor herself, he was one of her favorites. He was also one of mine. He was definitely one of the most versatile actors of our time. Proof of this came to me when I went to IMDB to search for a film I had seen him in years ago, and as I looked at his body of work, I found myself thinking, "Oh, yeah, I forgot he was in that." Not to say that he was forgettable at all, but that he was so different in each role he brought to life that I certainly remembered the role, but had forgotten that he was the actor. I guess the first time I ever saw him was in Boogie Nights, a very interesting role in a very interesting movie. I've seen him in a myriad of roles since then running the gamut from the priest in Doubt to Ben Stiller's crazy friend in Along Came Polly, but one of my favorite roles of his was that of Rusty in a 1999 movie with Robert De Niro called Flawless. You may have never heard of it, but do yourself a favor and rent it. Hoffman plays a drag queen who is giving De Niro, a wounded cop, singing lessons as a form of physical therapy. The premise sounds humorous to say the least, but it has some extremely touching moments, and Hoffman's performance is nothing short of brilliant! I don't even know how I happened on it to begin with, but I am so glad I did. When I think of Philip Seymour Hoffman, I think of the words fearless, risk taker, bold, passionate and definitely talented, but he was obviously very private as well. You didn't hear a lot about his personal life. No one knows what drives us to do the things we do. He was definitely struggling, and it makes me so sad that yet another giant in the acting world has fallen prey to the monster of drug addiction. I am not passing judgement. I am simply asking, "Why?" I will never understand, and my heart is heavy at the loss of such a bright light who had the world in front of him. What wonderful performances could we have seen if we had not been deprived of another 30 years of his career?