A bit of progress to report for those dying to know: I am now able to receive ADHD medicine for free. It took some doing but I managed to get it. It's difficult to explain to people how crippling ADHD can be. I also hesitate to discuss with people because ADHD is now one of those catch-phrases for ANYONE who has trouble focusing on mundane tasks. I have trouble reading numbers. You don't even want to know how much trouble that has caused me in basic check book maintenance. Beyond funny. I am hoping this medication will help change certain things in my world.
This past long holiday weekend I spent time reading and writing and not much else except for my bizarre attachment to the videogame CALL OF DUTY 2. I suppose that would be appropriate given the Memorial Day weekend.
The book I'm reading is one that I didn't expect to be a page turner for me but it was. I love biographies and this one is about movie director John Ford. This director had a real obsession abuot being Irish (his parents were from Ireland) and some sort of emotional upheaval based on the Irish famine which occurred well before his birth but affected his ancestors. I dunno - sounds a little whacked out to me but there you are. The book delves into the professional and private life of the legendary director in just the right proportion for a biography. I dislike bios of actors, directors or any artist that dissects to the inth detail every single work. That sort of detailed review belongs in a book strictly about one's life work. This bio by McBride balances researching the neurotic director's life and intersecting that with a basic overview of his major work. And he writes well. One reason I love reading bios is that along the way you find out about other books written by those in the field that the author references. Many times I was not even aware such a book existed.
I generally keep two books going. The other one that I am almost finished is Ann Rice's The Vampire Lestat which I never read before. I was so intrigued with her more recent novel Blackwood Form that I decided to go back and read the chronicles of Lestat de Lioncourt in the proper order.
I never have trouble focusing/concentrating on reading a good story!
Monday, May 29, 2006
Sunday, May 28, 2006
Memorial Day
Memorial Day is really the same sort of holiday as Thanksgiving when you think about it. We (supposedly) give thanks for those who risked their lives in the quest for freedom. But few people go out to the Memorial Day parades (unlike the Thanksgiving Day Parades) where it would be grossly inappropriate to have huge balloons of Sponge Bob and the Rugrats. But the Thanksgiving Day parade represents little of what actually took place when the pilgrims landed here. History has long ignored that the very tyranny the pilgrims were fleeing they came to North America and inflicted horrible things on the native Indian population. In essence, we give thanks on Thanksgiving for what the pilgrims were willing to do in order for us to get out of England and set up our own hateful tyranny, at least from the Indians' point of view.
When I think of Memorial Day I also recall that World War II had its own ironies, again, passed over in the history books I read growing up. The U.S. made it impossible for Japan to enjoy free trade and when the U.S. ignored Japan's entreaties, the Japanese dropped bombs on Pearl Harbor. We ignored Hitler's murderous march through Europe until WE were threatened and then acted, all too late. Millions of Jews and others had been murdered by that time. We didn't think the murder millions and millions of people was a threat to us.
Now Americans face the reality that our men and women are a part of an invasion and occupation of a country. Unlike the Vietnam years when so many Americans turned their backs on the returning vets from that conflict, Americans are careful to point out they object to the war but support the troops who are sent into combat.
But they choose to join the armed services knowing there is chance to go into combat, yes? Or is the armed service a roll of the dice where you are likely to get through your service without seeing combat and get an education?
Whatever the reason, it makes my stomach turn when I see televised ceremonies for a returned vet in his or her coffin. They wound up in the service for their own reasons and followed the course whether or not they agreed with the politics of the war in Iraq.
I've been battling some medical issues lately and when I feel particularly unwell all I need to do is look at the television set and see the aftermath of those young men and women whose lives were cut short. They deserve some tribute.
When I think of Memorial Day I also recall that World War II had its own ironies, again, passed over in the history books I read growing up. The U.S. made it impossible for Japan to enjoy free trade and when the U.S. ignored Japan's entreaties, the Japanese dropped bombs on Pearl Harbor. We ignored Hitler's murderous march through Europe until WE were threatened and then acted, all too late. Millions of Jews and others had been murdered by that time. We didn't think the murder millions and millions of people was a threat to us.
Now Americans face the reality that our men and women are a part of an invasion and occupation of a country. Unlike the Vietnam years when so many Americans turned their backs on the returning vets from that conflict, Americans are careful to point out they object to the war but support the troops who are sent into combat.
But they choose to join the armed services knowing there is chance to go into combat, yes? Or is the armed service a roll of the dice where you are likely to get through your service without seeing combat and get an education?
Whatever the reason, it makes my stomach turn when I see televised ceremonies for a returned vet in his or her coffin. They wound up in the service for their own reasons and followed the course whether or not they agreed with the politics of the war in Iraq.
I've been battling some medical issues lately and when I feel particularly unwell all I need to do is look at the television set and see the aftermath of those young men and women whose lives were cut short. They deserve some tribute.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Emotional murder
I wrote about having the sort of family who do not spend time fighting with each other. They don't. What they dislike about another family member is put to the side - feelings are made known and then put aside. I don't look to my family for emotional security or support. They are kind people and all but do not and never have understood anything of what I'm about. It's not that they won't: they just can't wrap their hands around it. And I made peace with that fact years ago. There is a certain freedom in not looking to family members for approval. It's never been there and not likely to suddenly emerge. If you aren't true to yourself you will never make yourself happy or anyone else for that matter. That's my piece of profound wisdom for the day.
I don't think I'm particularly odd but my ambitions and interests have always been different than those in my immediate environment. It was a very painful existence for the longest time mainly because I believed I was mildly retarded . . . a belief I carried with me for forty years. If you have read this blog from the beginning, you know that long before it became a catch all name for any lack of attention or focus as being ADHD. Far from being a convenient catch all phrase for a batch of inconvenient symptoms, it has been my reality. The simplest organizational things and functions elude me in critical places. I've lost jobs because of it and embarrassed to the point of tears and dehibilitating depression. It was until recent years that anyone talked about the fact ADHD doesn't disappear when you become an adult. By and large I'm thought to be (in my family) to be a somewhat scattered individual who goes here and there and does not commitment to anything or anyone. That all sounds rather negative. Learning to work with one's affiliction can work wonders. I've learned to embrace it and since learning to create an environment that works for me rather than try to adapt to an environment that doesn't life gets better. But it's not something that is understood or really much sympathized with at least in my environment.
But I am not bitter about it anymore. It used to make me angry that no one I loved or who loved me really understood how the intense humiliation of not being ablle to do or function in ways most people do easily. That sort of embarrassment causes pyschic pain that cannot be articulated. Years of ravaging my self esteem still leaves me standing. The confidence gets shaken and kicked in the gut but somehow I manage to press on. What else is there?
I'll give you an example of a family member who is a little slow mentally but able to function. She chooses not to. One of my aunts is mentally retarded. When her mother was giving birth, my aunt did not get enough oxygen during the birth process and wound up with some brain damage. It was said at the time - this was backed in 1930 - she would not live the night. Well, 75 years later she is alive though lately spending a lot of time in the hospital with a spleen ailment. She married and gave birth to three children - the two sons who made good lives for themselves and the daughter who is a little slow but able to get around fine (she has a license) and graduated from high school at 20. She chose to live with her parents. When her father died in 1996, Peg stopped working full time jobs. She had been working full time jobs in the cleaning industry - worked a decade for a hotel and then another decade for the maintenance staff at a local shopping mall. When her father died, that was the end of that.
Peg's mother collects a pension (she worked in the cleaning industry too) and money from her dead husband's pension). Her mother, my aunt, is really getting sicker and sicker now and with some of the problems she has, the writing is on the wall that she is running out of time and luck. We have attempted to get my aunt into an assisted living facility but behind our backs we know Peg is fighting it.
Why would she fight against something that would help her mother? Because it would mean she would have to get a full time job and support herself, that's why. She doesn't want to do that. I have gotten her in the door of places with people who would hire her that day and she made an excuse suddenly as to why she couldn't work. She loses jobs because if it snows a flake, she won't drive to work. If it rains, she won't go to to work. If she wakes up with a headache, she won't go to work. See why employers have an issue with her? If you think I am exaggerating, you're mistaken.
But the time is coming that Peg's craftiness won't change the reality that once her mother is dead, no more money will be available to her. My uncle Herb's son, Tom, gave money out of his father's estate to get Peg and her mother a car. Theirs had died some time before. It is a very nice, used car and Peg keeps it immaculate. She's a very good housekeeper.
In a fit of pique while in the car, I admired how nicely it was kept and told Peg she needs to keep it that way as she will eventually be living in it.
No response. But when that day comes, she will receive no help from any family member because she doesn't even try. Many of the older members of the family remember themselves taking (or their parents) on three jobs to make ends meet if that's what it took.
Peg expects to be taken care of.
Big surprise looming on the horizon. You don't try - you get nothing. My instinct is to help anyone who needs it - friend or stranger - but I won't budge on this. I have struggled to make my life work with my affliction, so can she.
I don't think I'm particularly odd but my ambitions and interests have always been different than those in my immediate environment. It was a very painful existence for the longest time mainly because I believed I was mildly retarded . . . a belief I carried with me for forty years. If you have read this blog from the beginning, you know that long before it became a catch all name for any lack of attention or focus as being ADHD. Far from being a convenient catch all phrase for a batch of inconvenient symptoms, it has been my reality. The simplest organizational things and functions elude me in critical places. I've lost jobs because of it and embarrassed to the point of tears and dehibilitating depression. It was until recent years that anyone talked about the fact ADHD doesn't disappear when you become an adult. By and large I'm thought to be (in my family) to be a somewhat scattered individual who goes here and there and does not commitment to anything or anyone. That all sounds rather negative. Learning to work with one's affiliction can work wonders. I've learned to embrace it and since learning to create an environment that works for me rather than try to adapt to an environment that doesn't life gets better. But it's not something that is understood or really much sympathized with at least in my environment.
But I am not bitter about it anymore. It used to make me angry that no one I loved or who loved me really understood how the intense humiliation of not being ablle to do or function in ways most people do easily. That sort of embarrassment causes pyschic pain that cannot be articulated. Years of ravaging my self esteem still leaves me standing. The confidence gets shaken and kicked in the gut but somehow I manage to press on. What else is there?
I'll give you an example of a family member who is a little slow mentally but able to function. She chooses not to. One of my aunts is mentally retarded. When her mother was giving birth, my aunt did not get enough oxygen during the birth process and wound up with some brain damage. It was said at the time - this was backed in 1930 - she would not live the night. Well, 75 years later she is alive though lately spending a lot of time in the hospital with a spleen ailment. She married and gave birth to three children - the two sons who made good lives for themselves and the daughter who is a little slow but able to get around fine (she has a license) and graduated from high school at 20. She chose to live with her parents. When her father died in 1996, Peg stopped working full time jobs. She had been working full time jobs in the cleaning industry - worked a decade for a hotel and then another decade for the maintenance staff at a local shopping mall. When her father died, that was the end of that.
Peg's mother collects a pension (she worked in the cleaning industry too) and money from her dead husband's pension). Her mother, my aunt, is really getting sicker and sicker now and with some of the problems she has, the writing is on the wall that she is running out of time and luck. We have attempted to get my aunt into an assisted living facility but behind our backs we know Peg is fighting it.
Why would she fight against something that would help her mother? Because it would mean she would have to get a full time job and support herself, that's why. She doesn't want to do that. I have gotten her in the door of places with people who would hire her that day and she made an excuse suddenly as to why she couldn't work. She loses jobs because if it snows a flake, she won't drive to work. If it rains, she won't go to to work. If she wakes up with a headache, she won't go to work. See why employers have an issue with her? If you think I am exaggerating, you're mistaken.
But the time is coming that Peg's craftiness won't change the reality that once her mother is dead, no more money will be available to her. My uncle Herb's son, Tom, gave money out of his father's estate to get Peg and her mother a car. Theirs had died some time before. It is a very nice, used car and Peg keeps it immaculate. She's a very good housekeeper.
In a fit of pique while in the car, I admired how nicely it was kept and told Peg she needs to keep it that way as she will eventually be living in it.
No response. But when that day comes, she will receive no help from any family member because she doesn't even try. Many of the older members of the family remember themselves taking (or their parents) on three jobs to make ends meet if that's what it took.
Peg expects to be taken care of.
Big surprise looming on the horizon. You don't try - you get nothing. My instinct is to help anyone who needs it - friend or stranger - but I won't budge on this. I have struggled to make my life work with my affliction, so can she.
Monday, May 22, 2006
Sunday, May 21st - Life Moves
It was hard to leave Indian River Inlet this morning. The sky was clear and the weather warm.
Of course it was.
I inherited from my father a "trick" ankle. I will up and fall for no apparent reason. I didn't trip over anything. I just fell. It would happen to me in my athletic days when I played hockey or lacrosse. I would be driving the ball down the field, no one anywhere near me, and I would just fall. Hard to explain to people. It happened again while we were playing mini golf on Saturday night. I woke up Sunday morning so stiff and sore it was hard to move but move I did eventually. I have to get this ankle business look it as this is happening a lot lately. It's embarrassing and it hurts like hell, causing swelling in the offending ankle.
The ride to Wilmington was fine. Spent the rest of the day catching up on mail and writing.
Of course it was.
I inherited from my father a "trick" ankle. I will up and fall for no apparent reason. I didn't trip over anything. I just fell. It would happen to me in my athletic days when I played hockey or lacrosse. I would be driving the ball down the field, no one anywhere near me, and I would just fall. Hard to explain to people. It happened again while we were playing mini golf on Saturday night. I woke up Sunday morning so stiff and sore it was hard to move but move I did eventually. I have to get this ankle business look it as this is happening a lot lately. It's embarrassing and it hurts like hell, causing swelling in the offending ankle.
The ride to Wilmington was fine. Spent the rest of the day catching up on mail and writing.
May 20th - Will it rain or what?
Woke up this morning not sure if we would see the sun or not. It was bloody cold yet the fishermen were out there in their boats and wading in the cold water clamming. The mood of the sky kept changing. The wind picked up and then died down. Would it rain or not?
After a lazy morning enjoying the view and not doing anything, Mom, Kay and I went to Fenwick Island, the next town over, had dinner and played mini golf on this faux Viking ship. It was fun. Back at the ranch we watched the sun go down over the water. Kay and I went into Dewey Beach, a notorious college kid retreat, and not yet Memorial Day weekend the college students were lined up out the door of most tavern establishments. We did manage to squeeze into one tavern called the Crabber's Cove and received the most watered down libation (beer) I have ever had in my life. I couldn't even drink the thing. I guess they figured the college students were less particular or too drunk to notice the difference. I noticed. Beer things - I notice. I am one who loves to try new microbrews and notices the taste difference between beer brands, even the most mundane ones.
Back at the ranch I sat outside next to the bay and just watched the boats with their spotlights cruising around and stared up at the beautiful star-filled sky. What a wonderful break and I didn't have to pay for it. Good thing as I couldn't. I would have liked to for my mother's birthday but that simply wasn't happening. I tried not to beat myself up over it. I succeeded for the most part . . .
After a lazy morning enjoying the view and not doing anything, Mom, Kay and I went to Fenwick Island, the next town over, had dinner and played mini golf on this faux Viking ship. It was fun. Back at the ranch we watched the sun go down over the water. Kay and I went into Dewey Beach, a notorious college kid retreat, and not yet Memorial Day weekend the college students were lined up out the door of most tavern establishments. We did manage to squeeze into one tavern called the Crabber's Cove and received the most watered down libation (beer) I have ever had in my life. I couldn't even drink the thing. I guess they figured the college students were less particular or too drunk to notice the difference. I noticed. Beer things - I notice. I am one who loves to try new microbrews and notices the taste difference between beer brands, even the most mundane ones.
Back at the ranch I sat outside next to the bay and just watched the boats with their spotlights cruising around and stared up at the beautiful star-filled sky. What a wonderful break and I didn't have to pay for it. Good thing as I couldn't. I would have liked to for my mother's birthday but that simply wasn't happening. I tried not to beat myself up over it. I succeeded for the most part . . .
May 19th post - a day at the beach
I have been offline since Friday morning so I am posting what I wrote in my daily log on each day. Starting with May 19th - -
Mom's 74th Birthday. It is a birthday that she shared with her brother William Herbert Walls, though he had been born a few years earlier. Mom decided some months ago - maybe even late last year - that she would do something nice for herself and book a weekend at the Delaware Seashore National Park at the Indian River Inlet/Marina in downstate Delaware. There are cottages right along the water and that is where we celebrated her birthday on Friday. Mom had invited her relatives (most of whom live downstate) and brought along her best friend Emily Ramsey from Wilmington. I brought my best friend, Kay, along as well since she looks upon Mom as her adopted mother.
Our place had a lovely screened in porch overlooking the inlet. The place was indeed cottage-like, well maintained and sunny. You couldn't want anything else as a guest. I sat on the porch, enjoying the breeze, watching the boaters and fishermen, and made notes on ideas for writing projects I am doing. I tried to not think about the fact I have no job right now and things that need to get done but cost money. I have many prospects and try to focus on that.
I realized something too. I came to understand why I view some things the way I do. I recently read a book on the history of politics in the State of Delaware. Why would that be book? Politics are done very differently here. In this state, if you are in a race for an office and start throwing mud and accusations at your opponent, even if they are true, you will probably lose the election. Delawareans do not like mud throwing done in vindictiveness. Many a political career has been ended because of this misstep. If you are a politician and accuse or raise questions about another's personal life or relationship with a spouse, you will lose the election. People in this state do not think that fair game. There is a long history of politicians who vigorously oppose each other on a Bill and argue long and hard in a debate but go out and go hunting together, even socialize together. It's nothing to attend a high level function and see political rivals having a good time with one another. They will even do favors for each other. This is not to say this never happens anywhere else outside of Delaware but it is more about how things are done here usually than not. We have relatives who were state senators and held a variety of offices throughout the state and they have related the same thing. It can be a good or bad thing depending on which side of the fence you are on morally. Cronyism isn't about those of the same party doing special favors for each other in this state.
I look at that and then my own family. We are a very small family. There are those who have very different interests and personalities but there is hardly ever big arguments and hurt feelings. It doesn't happen. The people in my family are the sort who mind their own business unless you invite them into your business and then they are supportive. I can't think of a single soul in my family who would not help a total stranger in need if they could. They are all genuinely good people with a wicked sense of humor. I hear so many horror stories about families who do not get along or parents who pressure their children into finding a spouse and starting a family.
No one in my family ever pressured me or anyone who was single to find a spouse and have a family. It's one of those things that falls under "it's not your business" to bring such a thing up. They understand that the desire to have a spouse or a family is a very personal thing and not something for others to involve themselves in if only for an opinion. The choice is there to not get married or have children. Not everyone is cut out for one or the other. The only thing my family seem to state an opinion about is having good friends in your life. I more than fit that bill. Readers of this blog are already familiar with my being thankful for having loyal, good friends. Not "yes" men/women but friends who are there for me as I am for them and loyal. If you don't have that in your life at all, then you are in bad shape. That's the one judgment I will make about someone else. If you can't attract people like that in your life . . .well, it's just sad.
How we see family life and problems and how most view politics in Delaware seems to dovetail into my own views on life and politics. Odd.
Mom's 74th Birthday. It is a birthday that she shared with her brother William Herbert Walls, though he had been born a few years earlier. Mom decided some months ago - maybe even late last year - that she would do something nice for herself and book a weekend at the Delaware Seashore National Park at the Indian River Inlet/Marina in downstate Delaware. There are cottages right along the water and that is where we celebrated her birthday on Friday. Mom had invited her relatives (most of whom live downstate) and brought along her best friend Emily Ramsey from Wilmington. I brought my best friend, Kay, along as well since she looks upon Mom as her adopted mother.
Our place had a lovely screened in porch overlooking the inlet. The place was indeed cottage-like, well maintained and sunny. You couldn't want anything else as a guest. I sat on the porch, enjoying the breeze, watching the boaters and fishermen, and made notes on ideas for writing projects I am doing. I tried to not think about the fact I have no job right now and things that need to get done but cost money. I have many prospects and try to focus on that.
I realized something too. I came to understand why I view some things the way I do. I recently read a book on the history of politics in the State of Delaware. Why would that be book? Politics are done very differently here. In this state, if you are in a race for an office and start throwing mud and accusations at your opponent, even if they are true, you will probably lose the election. Delawareans do not like mud throwing done in vindictiveness. Many a political career has been ended because of this misstep. If you are a politician and accuse or raise questions about another's personal life or relationship with a spouse, you will lose the election. People in this state do not think that fair game. There is a long history of politicians who vigorously oppose each other on a Bill and argue long and hard in a debate but go out and go hunting together, even socialize together. It's nothing to attend a high level function and see political rivals having a good time with one another. They will even do favors for each other. This is not to say this never happens anywhere else outside of Delaware but it is more about how things are done here usually than not. We have relatives who were state senators and held a variety of offices throughout the state and they have related the same thing. It can be a good or bad thing depending on which side of the fence you are on morally. Cronyism isn't about those of the same party doing special favors for each other in this state.
I look at that and then my own family. We are a very small family. There are those who have very different interests and personalities but there is hardly ever big arguments and hurt feelings. It doesn't happen. The people in my family are the sort who mind their own business unless you invite them into your business and then they are supportive. I can't think of a single soul in my family who would not help a total stranger in need if they could. They are all genuinely good people with a wicked sense of humor. I hear so many horror stories about families who do not get along or parents who pressure their children into finding a spouse and starting a family.
No one in my family ever pressured me or anyone who was single to find a spouse and have a family. It's one of those things that falls under "it's not your business" to bring such a thing up. They understand that the desire to have a spouse or a family is a very personal thing and not something for others to involve themselves in if only for an opinion. The choice is there to not get married or have children. Not everyone is cut out for one or the other. The only thing my family seem to state an opinion about is having good friends in your life. I more than fit that bill. Readers of this blog are already familiar with my being thankful for having loyal, good friends. Not "yes" men/women but friends who are there for me as I am for them and loyal. If you don't have that in your life at all, then you are in bad shape. That's the one judgment I will make about someone else. If you can't attract people like that in your life . . .well, it's just sad.
How we see family life and problems and how most view politics in Delaware seems to dovetail into my own views on life and politics. Odd.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Diddy
Before Sean Puffy Combs wanted to be called "Puff Diddy," there was a "Diddy" in my life. He was my father, Stanley Kersey. Years of smoking burned all the hairs on his throat and despite the warning to stop smoking, he didn't. Cancer took his life on May 18, 1999. He was 72 years old.
Two images are forever seared in my mind: seeing the South Tower of the World Trade Center break apart and collapse and seeing my father take his last breath.
The first image was visually traumatic and violent. The second was peaceful and emotional. Peaceful for Dad; emotional for us.
Dad had the soul of a poet but no idea how to function in the world. He muddled his way through in that department. Anxiety and self-doubt plagued him enough to prevent him from doing anything more than become a local celeb for his limericks, publishing religious newsletters and his bottomless well of music knowledge. Lots of "I could haves" came at the end of his life. I felt badly for him when he thought this way and I attempted to remind him of all that he had for people. He and my mother bought me books from the time I could crawl and I learned to read before the average child. I loved Dr. Seuss and Dad loved to read to me. If you took your shoes off in the living room and then went into the kitchen to get something, he would put the shoe high up on something - a place you would never expect to see a shoe - until you realized the shoe was gone and you were looking all over for it. Dad always looked innocent but you knew the shoe didn't walk on its own.
Baby Diddy Kersey
Just as I bond with my mother over our innate understanding of how the things work in the world and other more practical issues, Dad and I shared an instinctive understanding what what made our very being - those invisible lenses we use to take in what's around us and absorb what is not easily articulated. Music does a lot of that for us too. I'm very lucky to have gotten the best of my parents; each have marvelous gifts. I need some of all of those gifts to be what I am.
A few days before May 18th, Dad fell into a drug-induced coma. He was at home under the care of Delaware Hospice. The doctors had provided him with morphine from the start so the pain would be minimal. His stomach was upset from the medication though so he was not free of discomfort. Those who came in each day to visit him from Hospice had gotten to like him. One nurse had asked him how he was feeling today and his response was "With my hands."
The family knew Dad was terminally ill. My uncle Herb (whom I mentioned yesterday - my mother's brother) and Aunt Joan flew in from Washington State on May 10th to visit with us. Dad had not allowed anyone else to see him but was happy to have Herb and Joan there. Dad had survived from intense anxiety all of his life and now this manifested itself into not being able to breath well at times. He had an oxygen tank beside his chair. Prior to Aunt Joan and Uncle Herb arriving early that evening, Dad pulled the oxygen tube and mask over to his face and was taking in air. He knew he didn't look very good and this bothered him.
When Aunt Joan and Uncle Herb arrived, they didn't make any big deal of the fact they were here (we all know they were here to see Dad before he died) and when Uncle Herb went into the living room where my father was sitting with the oxygen mask around his face, Uncle Herb picked his foot up poised over the oxygen tube on the floor and said, "Hey Stan! How about I put my foot down here?!" That cracked my father up. It was a good laugh. One of the visuals that could put my father on the floor was The Honeymooners episode where Ralph put the vacuum cleaner hose in his mouth to try and blow out whatever was stuck in it and Norton turned the power on. Uncle Herb was my hero that day and the rest of his life. He handled the situation beautifully.
A week later, Dad was in a bed downstairs in the living room and I heard Dad stop breathing for a moment. I yelled to my mother in the kitchen, she came in and each of us took one of his hands and as we told him how much we loved him, he took a few gulps and was gone.
I never really knew what sorrow was until that day. I thought I did but I really didn't. It was as if someone had opened up my chest cavity and pulled my heart out, stomping on it all the while. Grief is physical pain. I was relieved for him, of course. It's no picnic deteriorating as he did but fortunately Dad did not live long after the diagnosis and was only unable to take care of himself the week before he died.
Nothing prepares you for losing a parent. It's shattering. It's how the life cycle works but intellectual understand of anything flies out the window at the moment a loved one dies. You do go on, of course. I know I will see him again and he won't be sick anymore.
The following day a telemarketer called asking to speak to Mr. Kersey. My brother, Chris, who had answered the phone, was caught off guard. "Uh, he's resting," he finally spat out. Mom, Chris and I then were hysterical with laughter. It was dark humor my father loved.
A friend of mine opined that we used humor to deflect the pain. Not really. We don't use humor as a tool for anything for that would put humor in the last resort category. Humor is in the fabric of life. Bad things will always happen. There are always obstacles. Just as that is true, humor is there as part of what is delightful about life, what makes us smile and lightens the burdens we face. When future telemarketers called asking for Dad, my mother or whomever was visiting and answering the phone would play along "Oh, he's unavailable right now" or something like that. It amuses us to come up with something.
It would have amused my father. I still miss him and there are days where the grief is just as fresh as the moment he died practically in my arms. Today was one of those days probably because other things are up in the air and I feel very insecure.
If you ever do get online, Dad, in the great hereafter - remember this!
I meant what I said and I said what I meant
I will always love you 100 percent!
Dad around 60
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Uncle Orney
Even if it was not the anniversary my uncle suddenly passed away, it would be a bad day. I am so frustrated now and in need of some medical testing to be done - with no insurance and currently no income. If it waits much longer I might not even be able to work because of not getting treatment if the pain and discomfort continues. I need to get something done before the middle of next week and I'm not sure that will happen.
I spent time looking at my collection of fly fishing bait tails my uncle Herb made. I have them hanging up actually. Jonathan suggested I put my uncle's photo on the canvas showing him making one of the fly fishing tails. I did. It's a nice remembrance. It sharply contrasts with how I felt three years ago when I got the call from my stunned cousin Tom in Washington State that his father died of a massive heart attack. Poor Tom - his mother had passed away just eight month before. We were suprised about Herb's sudden death yet we weren't. He was lonely and missed Joan. He told my mother this only a month or so before. Still, it was a soul searing event for my mother that her brother, with whom she shared a special, soul-mate type of bond, was suddenly gone. She was devastated. The event itself and watching the pain of her grief explod as it did was something I will never forget.
All that happy stuff said, we strive to always remember the good times and there were plenty of those to be had. My uncle Herb was an engineer and a had a sharp wit. His pride and joy, besides his wife Joan, was his son Tom Walls (a redhead like me!), grandson Ian Walls and daughter-in-law Diane. He thought of Diane as his daughter.
Uncle Herb was ornery as a boy. He refused to tuck in his shirt so to ensure that he would keep the shirt tucked in, Grandmom sewed lace to the end of his shirt. It worked.
Oh the stories could fill a book! I am close to my cousin Tom and his wife Diane. I especially their son, my second cousin, Ian. He's now in graduate school in Rhode Island.
Miss you Uncle Ornery. You were a character bar none!
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
The First One
May is the Death Month in my family. My first boyfriend/fiancee died today, 14 years ago. My uncle Herb died suddenly a few years ago on May 17th and my father in 1999 on May 18th. I don't know what the attraction is dying in May . . . . my poor mother, whose birthday is on May 19th and shared it with her brother, Herb, lives in constant fear when May comes that someone will die that month or right before her birthday. For whatever reason, we have spent at least two of her birthdays either in a funeral parlor picking out a coffin or preparing to attend a funeral.
I don't sit around on the anniversary of a death dwelling on the death. The first anniversary is hard but after that the anniversary of a precious loss moves out of the marrow of my bones and nudges me gently. To do the retrospection bit? I don't know. I can't help but think about Mickey Schulz, my first serious relationship and the man I wanted to marry . . . for a time. I used to joke that his name sounded like that of a gangster. He was anything but, of course, and he died tragically far too young. He was a good man; restless and too smart for his own good it seemed. I had the sense to know that marrying him would be a mistake no matter how strong the love. He never did accept my realization as being something that saved us pain down the road and we drifted apart, occasionally being in touch. I missed him for a long, long time but I have no doubt I made the right decision.
My first big crush was a guy in high school named Dino DiOssi. I thought it was such a cool name and I loved Italian-looking guys. He never knew I was a alive, of course. A grade ahead of me and travelling in a totally different social circle. I met two other people named Dino DiOssi in later years; one living in New York City with whom I became friends and another a legal assistant living in the midwest.
I don't suppose it's a good thing to lump love and crushes into a post about May The Death Month. This time back in 1999 I was working for a Broadway producer and sorry I ever took the job. It was a side of the business I would have rather not known. I readily left my position to be with my dying father. They were not sympathetic to my plight watching a parent die of cancer so I basically told Mr. Broadway Producer what he could do with a very large and pointy statue in his office. It was ugly besides. I think "sticking" an ugly statue that's also very big where the sun don't shine would be painful. I certainly hope so.
On May 17, 1999, the day before he died, I was sitting with my father who was in a hospital bed in our living room. I held his hand and talked with him. I reminded him that Mom's birthday was in two days.
That was a not so subtle hint not to die on her birthday, yes.
My father, a gentleman in many ways and not one to get hints, managed to get this one and would not die on my mother's birthday.
He would let go in another 12-24 hours.
I don't sit around on the anniversary of a death dwelling on the death. The first anniversary is hard but after that the anniversary of a precious loss moves out of the marrow of my bones and nudges me gently. To do the retrospection bit? I don't know. I can't help but think about Mickey Schulz, my first serious relationship and the man I wanted to marry . . . for a time. I used to joke that his name sounded like that of a gangster. He was anything but, of course, and he died tragically far too young. He was a good man; restless and too smart for his own good it seemed. I had the sense to know that marrying him would be a mistake no matter how strong the love. He never did accept my realization as being something that saved us pain down the road and we drifted apart, occasionally being in touch. I missed him for a long, long time but I have no doubt I made the right decision.
My first big crush was a guy in high school named Dino DiOssi. I thought it was such a cool name and I loved Italian-looking guys. He never knew I was a alive, of course. A grade ahead of me and travelling in a totally different social circle. I met two other people named Dino DiOssi in later years; one living in New York City with whom I became friends and another a legal assistant living in the midwest.
I don't suppose it's a good thing to lump love and crushes into a post about May The Death Month. This time back in 1999 I was working for a Broadway producer and sorry I ever took the job. It was a side of the business I would have rather not known. I readily left my position to be with my dying father. They were not sympathetic to my plight watching a parent die of cancer so I basically told Mr. Broadway Producer what he could do with a very large and pointy statue in his office. It was ugly besides. I think "sticking" an ugly statue that's also very big where the sun don't shine would be painful. I certainly hope so.
On May 17, 1999, the day before he died, I was sitting with my father who was in a hospital bed in our living room. I held his hand and talked with him. I reminded him that Mom's birthday was in two days.
That was a not so subtle hint not to die on her birthday, yes.
My father, a gentleman in many ways and not one to get hints, managed to get this one and would not die on my mother's birthday.
He would let go in another 12-24 hours.
Monday, May 15, 2006
Cruise-ing X
Finally checking in after being computer-less for a few days. I took my mother and a friend up to Niagara On the Lake, Ontario for the Mother's Day weekend. We lucked out with the weather. It was supposed to pour all weekend but it didn't. We had some afternoon showers on Saturday but that was it. Friday was beautiful all day.
I do love Canada. If I were not living in this country I could live there or in Ireland. Those are the two countries I like most outside of the U.S.
Mr. Bush is due to give a speech tonight. It will be without me. The very sound of his voice annoys me out of my skin. And that's simply not a pretty sight.
Speaking of annoying - I have gone from liking Tom Cruise movies to hating the very sight of him. Everywhere you look whether watching TV or simply standing in the line at the grocery store he is SMILING at you from every angle. I don't think I'll ever watch another Cruise movie. His publicist needs to get a grip or tell TC to get a freaking grip. He is annoying the shit out of everyone.
I suspect that most people read the entertainment tabloids for the same reason I do - entertainment. It's amusing. I don't believe three-quarters of what I read but it's fun to read anyway. The purpose is to amuse, isn't it? But how many times do you read the headlines about Ben and Jen, Tom and Katie, Brad and baby and say WHO CARES???!!! Probably as many times as I do.
The temp job I had came to an abrupt end. I'm rather sick about it since now I'm broke at a really bad time. I loved that job too. However, I already have interviews lined up for other potential positions, one of them tomorrow afternoon. I like the temp thing as you get paid every week and the pay is pretty good. But I really need for this to come through quickly.
No matter what the creativity continues to flow and for that I am grateful.
I do love Canada. If I were not living in this country I could live there or in Ireland. Those are the two countries I like most outside of the U.S.
Mr. Bush is due to give a speech tonight. It will be without me. The very sound of his voice annoys me out of my skin. And that's simply not a pretty sight.
Speaking of annoying - I have gone from liking Tom Cruise movies to hating the very sight of him. Everywhere you look whether watching TV or simply standing in the line at the grocery store he is SMILING at you from every angle. I don't think I'll ever watch another Cruise movie. His publicist needs to get a grip or tell TC to get a freaking grip. He is annoying the shit out of everyone.
I suspect that most people read the entertainment tabloids for the same reason I do - entertainment. It's amusing. I don't believe three-quarters of what I read but it's fun to read anyway. The purpose is to amuse, isn't it? But how many times do you read the headlines about Ben and Jen, Tom and Katie, Brad and baby and say WHO CARES???!!! Probably as many times as I do.
The temp job I had came to an abrupt end. I'm rather sick about it since now I'm broke at a really bad time. I loved that job too. However, I already have interviews lined up for other potential positions, one of them tomorrow afternoon. I like the temp thing as you get paid every week and the pay is pretty good. But I really need for this to come through quickly.
No matter what the creativity continues to flow and for that I am grateful.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
FANATICS!
Everyone is a fan or someone or some thing. No exceptions to this rule.
We have all seen the excesses of such an interest: turn on television during any sports event, attend a conference on a literary figure or for a television show or cult film. It can be as innocous as your local dance group where participants live and breathe dance and engage in backstage battles on a regular basis.
As I have indicated here before, when I lived in New York City I made a living juggle projects and odd jobs in the entertainment field. One of those jobs entailed my working with an actor who also attended conventions celebrating the television show in which he starred. I grew up on this particular show and even though I enjoyed it, I'm not a die-hard fan of the show. During the time Mr. Actor attended the conventions, I relished hearing about how the show was made (as I do any production in any medium)and made friends among the other actors, personnel of the series along with the festival organizers and fans. For this reason, I will still attend the convention when it's held in New York City.
What I have enjoyed most about my involvement in the conventions is people watching. I have not been involved in other fandoms personally; I've read about them and watched videos such as the two volume TREKKIE documentaries. My personal experience in the fandom has been a positive one. The less pleasant experiences are ones that amused more than angered me.
Years before I started working for this actor, I worked as a writer and contributing editor to a popular monthly magazine in Philadelphia in addition to some performing arts publications. I was used to people not liking what I wrote because they disagreed. I was not prepared when I became involved in the fandom that those who might envy me would simply make negative things up about me to bolster the rationale for disliking me in the first place. At first I was rather appalled and hurt by it, however, that passed quickly - mostly because the actor told me that was the name of the game for anyone associated with him. Jealous fans would take the green monster a little farther. Once I understood this, I became rather fascinated with it all no matter how bad it got. I enjoyed observing the whole business even if I was a target.
One of my favorite Dumb Fan experiences goes to a man who is a nurse in a hospital or institution for mentally-challenged individuals. I believe he is quite gifted in his field. However, this man is very jealous of anyone whom he feels has more connections in the fandom than he does. We had been friends until I learned he was calling people on the phone saying that I had to be "watched" because I was "dangerous." I found this funny rather than upsetting. There was, of course, some made up reason for this warning. I learned that he had been very jealous about my relationship with the actor he admired very much. Yes, this was a grown man with talents to offer the world but my "rise" in fandom annoyed him.
Fans who are like this can be fully functional in a job but the emotional intelligence is off the charts below normal. He continues to pursue the actor never stopping to think that all his nonsense (and it was ongoing for awhile) was not told to the actor. The actor knows guy is a jerk and dishonest because of the experiences I had with him. But for whatever reason, it doesn't register with this fan that would be the case. So blindly he goes.
I hadn't thought about all this for a long time until I got a funny email from someone yesterday telling me yet another crazy story about this fan.
He hasn't changed one iota in almost twenty years . . . has not moved on.
We have all seen the excesses of such an interest: turn on television during any sports event, attend a conference on a literary figure or for a television show or cult film. It can be as innocous as your local dance group where participants live and breathe dance and engage in backstage battles on a regular basis.
As I have indicated here before, when I lived in New York City I made a living juggle projects and odd jobs in the entertainment field. One of those jobs entailed my working with an actor who also attended conventions celebrating the television show in which he starred. I grew up on this particular show and even though I enjoyed it, I'm not a die-hard fan of the show. During the time Mr. Actor attended the conventions, I relished hearing about how the show was made (as I do any production in any medium)and made friends among the other actors, personnel of the series along with the festival organizers and fans. For this reason, I will still attend the convention when it's held in New York City.
What I have enjoyed most about my involvement in the conventions is people watching. I have not been involved in other fandoms personally; I've read about them and watched videos such as the two volume TREKKIE documentaries. My personal experience in the fandom has been a positive one. The less pleasant experiences are ones that amused more than angered me.
Years before I started working for this actor, I worked as a writer and contributing editor to a popular monthly magazine in Philadelphia in addition to some performing arts publications. I was used to people not liking what I wrote because they disagreed. I was not prepared when I became involved in the fandom that those who might envy me would simply make negative things up about me to bolster the rationale for disliking me in the first place. At first I was rather appalled and hurt by it, however, that passed quickly - mostly because the actor told me that was the name of the game for anyone associated with him. Jealous fans would take the green monster a little farther. Once I understood this, I became rather fascinated with it all no matter how bad it got. I enjoyed observing the whole business even if I was a target.
One of my favorite Dumb Fan experiences goes to a man who is a nurse in a hospital or institution for mentally-challenged individuals. I believe he is quite gifted in his field. However, this man is very jealous of anyone whom he feels has more connections in the fandom than he does. We had been friends until I learned he was calling people on the phone saying that I had to be "watched" because I was "dangerous." I found this funny rather than upsetting. There was, of course, some made up reason for this warning. I learned that he had been very jealous about my relationship with the actor he admired very much. Yes, this was a grown man with talents to offer the world but my "rise" in fandom annoyed him.
Fans who are like this can be fully functional in a job but the emotional intelligence is off the charts below normal. He continues to pursue the actor never stopping to think that all his nonsense (and it was ongoing for awhile) was not told to the actor. The actor knows guy is a jerk and dishonest because of the experiences I had with him. But for whatever reason, it doesn't register with this fan that would be the case. So blindly he goes.
I hadn't thought about all this for a long time until I got a funny email from someone yesterday telling me yet another crazy story about this fan.
He hasn't changed one iota in almost twenty years . . . has not moved on.
Monday, May 08, 2006
MOVIN' ON UP
Big weekend in terms of personal and professional productivity. I thought a great deal about my desire to pursue a Masters in Theater and came to the conclusion that other than obtaining the degree I would need to teach college if I chose that route, there isn't really anything pursuing that goal would do for me. I'm sure I could learn much from it in terms of academics but professionally, it can't do anything for me other than allow me to teach college age students. That unto itself isn't necessarily a goal. Teaching drama and writing to students who had never thought about the discplines before and get them excited is more satisfying.
My love of technology is far stronger. I want to learn more about audio visual equipment and computers. That is more the likely route I will go should I make the decision to go back to school. Yes, there is a ton of money to be made in those fields which certainly is not a drawback.
Ever since I made peace with myself about my need for variety on a professional level my creativity has literally exploded. I have more ideas than I can make detailed notes on which is a good thing. I am now able to put those ideas aside, once secured on paper or audio cassette, and work on them later.
I recently started a regime of taking choline and inositol caplets twice a day. These elements are known to assist the process of neurotransmitters in the brain. When these babies are not shooting in the right direction at the right speed it causes depression and other unpleasant brain chemical issues. This plus the reduction of sugar and salt has assisted a great deal.
Meanwhile, John's website project moves along quite nicely. Sherlock is a brilliant artist. I'm glad that John is so into this. It's good for those in their senior years to have projects that require thought and activity - good to keep that brain working. I'm heading up to Canada for three days later this week so I can better prepare my impending contribution to John's website.
I have Elizabeth's website to work on as well for her production company. I've got that sketched out at least.
Oh, I had an exciting wildlife encounter on Saturday. I left the apartment earlier to go in to work for a few hours and heard a weird noise as I was locking the door. I looked up and saw what appeared to be a baby squirrel in considerable distress, even more so when I started to move back to get a better look. It scurred around on the stucco wall clearly in a panic. I decided to leave it be, figuring it would just take off back out the hallway and outside in due course.
Wrong.
Baby Squirrel was still there when I returned three and a half hours later. It was too scared to move from its perch. I got two industrial strength gloves that I keep in the closet, a chair and proceeded to get on the chair and reach for the squirrel.
The squirrel was not receptive to my grabbing it however gently but I managed to grab it enough to move it from the wall. It squirmed out of my hands, jumped to the floor and then hopped up the three steps of the stairwell and back out ito the parking lot. I have not seen or heard it since.
Only in Kerseyland, kiddies. Only in Kerseyland.
My love of technology is far stronger. I want to learn more about audio visual equipment and computers. That is more the likely route I will go should I make the decision to go back to school. Yes, there is a ton of money to be made in those fields which certainly is not a drawback.
Ever since I made peace with myself about my need for variety on a professional level my creativity has literally exploded. I have more ideas than I can make detailed notes on which is a good thing. I am now able to put those ideas aside, once secured on paper or audio cassette, and work on them later.
I recently started a regime of taking choline and inositol caplets twice a day. These elements are known to assist the process of neurotransmitters in the brain. When these babies are not shooting in the right direction at the right speed it causes depression and other unpleasant brain chemical issues. This plus the reduction of sugar and salt has assisted a great deal.
Meanwhile, John's website project moves along quite nicely. Sherlock is a brilliant artist. I'm glad that John is so into this. It's good for those in their senior years to have projects that require thought and activity - good to keep that brain working. I'm heading up to Canada for three days later this week so I can better prepare my impending contribution to John's website.
I have Elizabeth's website to work on as well for her production company. I've got that sketched out at least.
Oh, I had an exciting wildlife encounter on Saturday. I left the apartment earlier to go in to work for a few hours and heard a weird noise as I was locking the door. I looked up and saw what appeared to be a baby squirrel in considerable distress, even more so when I started to move back to get a better look. It scurred around on the stucco wall clearly in a panic. I decided to leave it be, figuring it would just take off back out the hallway and outside in due course.
Wrong.
Baby Squirrel was still there when I returned three and a half hours later. It was too scared to move from its perch. I got two industrial strength gloves that I keep in the closet, a chair and proceeded to get on the chair and reach for the squirrel.
The squirrel was not receptive to my grabbing it however gently but I managed to grab it enough to move it from the wall. It squirmed out of my hands, jumped to the floor and then hopped up the three steps of the stairwell and back out ito the parking lot. I have not seen or heard it since.
Only in Kerseyland, kiddies. Only in Kerseyland.
Friday, May 05, 2006
The World Interrupts Mine
Yesterday afternoon while on my patio I observed a young male peeking around at me and the immediate environment from another patio several hundred yards away. My sense was giving the furtive glances from this guy he was looking to see if anyone was watching him . . . or the area he was in. He eventually disappeared from view altogether and I went about my business.
Twenty minutes later, the parking lot outside my apartment building resembled a scene out of NYPD Blue. Under cover cops, police canine units and county police converged on several young males in the area and gave chase to a view more across the "valley" area behind my apartment building.
Drug bust.
I get very offended when the world outside interferes with mine. It's insane to feel that way, of course, but there you are. My home is my sanctuary. I don't like people to just drop in unannounced and I don't want to see any nasty situations outside my window. My apartment is comfortable and overlooks a large area of land with pretty trees and lots of green grass. I can look up at night and see a huge piece of sky complete with twinkling stars and always beautiful moon.
Real world, be damned. I do my bit as a citizen and go back inside and allow my thoughts to be encased by the beauty that I do see. My cure for all ills is to look up at the sky and feel there are no troubles in the world at all.
Twenty minutes later, the parking lot outside my apartment building resembled a scene out of NYPD Blue. Under cover cops, police canine units and county police converged on several young males in the area and gave chase to a view more across the "valley" area behind my apartment building.
Drug bust.
I get very offended when the world outside interferes with mine. It's insane to feel that way, of course, but there you are. My home is my sanctuary. I don't like people to just drop in unannounced and I don't want to see any nasty situations outside my window. My apartment is comfortable and overlooks a large area of land with pretty trees and lots of green grass. I can look up at night and see a huge piece of sky complete with twinkling stars and always beautiful moon.
Real world, be damned. I do my bit as a citizen and go back inside and allow my thoughts to be encased by the beauty that I do see. My cure for all ills is to look up at the sky and feel there are no troubles in the world at all.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
My silliness
We all have the little odd things about ourselves few others would ever guess unless we chose to share the silliness. What surprises people the most about you the times you have revealed an interest in a subject or individual they didn't think you would have?
These are the things about me that surprise a few people -
I love to look at photos of Prince William. I even have a screensaver of him. Yep, it's true.
I have an extensive knowledge and book collection on organized crime in America and throughout the world.
I would love to have exotic reptiles and parrots as pets.
In another life I would be a paleontologist.
I like fast, Italian cars. I like fast, Italian men too.
My favorite singer of the golden oldie age is Dean Martin.
These are the things about me that surprise a few people -
I love to look at photos of Prince William. I even have a screensaver of him. Yep, it's true.
I have an extensive knowledge and book collection on organized crime in America and throughout the world.
I would love to have exotic reptiles and parrots as pets.
In another life I would be a paleontologist.
I like fast, Italian cars. I like fast, Italian men too.
My favorite singer of the golden oldie age is Dean Martin.
Monday, May 01, 2006
United 93: Reflection on a Nightmare
I cannot decide whether or not I will see this film.
I want to see it. I consider the people on that airplane to be heroes. Sure, they wanted to try and save their own lives but there is enough evidence to make it clear they knew the airplane was on a deadly mission that day.
On the morning of September 11th, shortly before 8:45 a.m. I was on the No. 1 downtown train to Times Square. Our train was held up for about five minutes prior to entering Times Square station. We didn't know why. We didn't know the first plane had ploughed into one of the World Trade Center Towers.
Once I got out of the subway and headed to my office at HBO, I heard on my walkman that a "small plane" had crashed into one of the towers. I looked up at the bright blue, clear sky and figured the pilot of the plane must have had a medical emergency and lost control of the plane.
As we all know now, there was much more to it than that. I watched the television at my office and watched the events unfold. When I saw that the Pentagon had been attacked and other airplanes were unaccounted for, I panicked. My mother, aunt and her daughter-in-law were all visiting the White House that morning. I knew from talking with my mother the night before they were already on the tour as all this was going on. As the towers smoked, wobbled and finally collapsed, I was punching buttons on my phone, trying to reach my mother by cell phone.
I was listening to the pundits surmize that the attackers had probably targeted the White House. There were planes still unaccounted for out there.
Was one of them going to plough into the White House?
Was my family going to be among the dead or injured?
90 minutes after the first plane crashed into New York City, I finally reached my mother. She had been evacuated from the White House, along with my other family members, and was on her way via train heading out of the city. She told me that upon leaving the White House, she could see cars pulled over to the curb, doors opened and radios blaring the awful news.
I was never so scared in all my life as I was that day. I was afraid that my family was going to get killed. Even though I was sitting there looking outside my window at the Empire State Building, wondering if a plane was going to strike there, I didn't even contemplate if that happened I could get killed as I was just six blocks away. The panic was about my family.
I did send a note to the widow of the man who cried "Let's roll" on United 93 before they attacked the terrorists who had commandeered the aircraft. I wanted to express to someone that the change of track of United 93 that day may well have saved the life of my mother and other family members.
I was profoundly grateful and have yet to stop saying prayers for those who lost their lives that day, especially those on United 93. My indecisiveness about seeing it stems from not wanting to relive that day when I nearly lost a part of my family - and not wanting to see what led to the moment when so many others lost their loved ones.
I want to see it. I consider the people on that airplane to be heroes. Sure, they wanted to try and save their own lives but there is enough evidence to make it clear they knew the airplane was on a deadly mission that day.
On the morning of September 11th, shortly before 8:45 a.m. I was on the No. 1 downtown train to Times Square. Our train was held up for about five minutes prior to entering Times Square station. We didn't know why. We didn't know the first plane had ploughed into one of the World Trade Center Towers.
Once I got out of the subway and headed to my office at HBO, I heard on my walkman that a "small plane" had crashed into one of the towers. I looked up at the bright blue, clear sky and figured the pilot of the plane must have had a medical emergency and lost control of the plane.
As we all know now, there was much more to it than that. I watched the television at my office and watched the events unfold. When I saw that the Pentagon had been attacked and other airplanes were unaccounted for, I panicked. My mother, aunt and her daughter-in-law were all visiting the White House that morning. I knew from talking with my mother the night before they were already on the tour as all this was going on. As the towers smoked, wobbled and finally collapsed, I was punching buttons on my phone, trying to reach my mother by cell phone.
I was listening to the pundits surmize that the attackers had probably targeted the White House. There were planes still unaccounted for out there.
Was one of them going to plough into the White House?
Was my family going to be among the dead or injured?
90 minutes after the first plane crashed into New York City, I finally reached my mother. She had been evacuated from the White House, along with my other family members, and was on her way via train heading out of the city. She told me that upon leaving the White House, she could see cars pulled over to the curb, doors opened and radios blaring the awful news.
I was never so scared in all my life as I was that day. I was afraid that my family was going to get killed. Even though I was sitting there looking outside my window at the Empire State Building, wondering if a plane was going to strike there, I didn't even contemplate if that happened I could get killed as I was just six blocks away. The panic was about my family.
I did send a note to the widow of the man who cried "Let's roll" on United 93 before they attacked the terrorists who had commandeered the aircraft. I wanted to express to someone that the change of track of United 93 that day may well have saved the life of my mother and other family members.
I was profoundly grateful and have yet to stop saying prayers for those who lost their lives that day, especially those on United 93. My indecisiveness about seeing it stems from not wanting to relive that day when I nearly lost a part of my family - and not wanting to see what led to the moment when so many others lost their loved ones.
In the Sandals of Lawrence of Arabia
Saturday and Sunday I was on shoot for the indie film Nora's Choice written and directed by my friend Elizabeth Abell. It will be interesting to see how I am credited at the end of all this since I have written dialogue for this film, assisted with the creation of the trailer and carried gear to and from shoots.
We shot several small but important scenes at Rehoboth Beach, Delaware. Sun-wise we could not have asked for a better day to shoot. However, the wind and blowing sand on the beach was another matter and made things a tad difficult. When you have expensive (and sensitive) camera equipment you have to ensure that you have the equipment covered with material designed for that purpose and that the sand doesn't blow into the crevices and nooks of all the equipment.
We were not recording any audio other than the sound of the waves crashing on shore. The dialogue is going to be dubbed in later. This saved us an enormous headache trying to achieve clear audio on a windy day with sand making noise as it struck different materials. The actors had to walk along the water's edge, allowing the ocean to wrap itself around their feet. I might add that they were supposed to pretend it was warm. They did an excellent job considering they were wearing skimpy outfits for the shoot.
I was not prepared for how tired I was at the end of the day. It's a real workout running around on the sand, carrying and setting up equipment, for several hours.
I'm excited to see how this film turns out. On the basis on Elizabeth's trailer for the film, she has gotten inquiries about other potential projects. I'm working on the marketing end of things when I am not involved in writing projects.
Back to the office today as a legal records analyst. A job I really enjoy doing.
And no sand!
We shot several small but important scenes at Rehoboth Beach, Delaware. Sun-wise we could not have asked for a better day to shoot. However, the wind and blowing sand on the beach was another matter and made things a tad difficult. When you have expensive (and sensitive) camera equipment you have to ensure that you have the equipment covered with material designed for that purpose and that the sand doesn't blow into the crevices and nooks of all the equipment.
We were not recording any audio other than the sound of the waves crashing on shore. The dialogue is going to be dubbed in later. This saved us an enormous headache trying to achieve clear audio on a windy day with sand making noise as it struck different materials. The actors had to walk along the water's edge, allowing the ocean to wrap itself around their feet. I might add that they were supposed to pretend it was warm. They did an excellent job considering they were wearing skimpy outfits for the shoot.
I was not prepared for how tired I was at the end of the day. It's a real workout running around on the sand, carrying and setting up equipment, for several hours.
I'm excited to see how this film turns out. On the basis on Elizabeth's trailer for the film, she has gotten inquiries about other potential projects. I'm working on the marketing end of things when I am not involved in writing projects.
Back to the office today as a legal records analyst. A job I really enjoy doing.
And no sand!
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