Teaser Tuesday

Here's how to play.

• Grab your current read
• Open to a random page
• Share “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page
• BE CAREFUL NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!)

Kick: The True Story of JFK's Sister and the Heir to Chatsworth by Paula Byrne. Kathleen Kennedy was the sibling closest to JFK when he was growing up. I've been fascinated by her ever since I saw a photo of then-Senator Kennedy reading in his apartment, and on the wall were multiple framed photos of the same young woman, his deceased sister, known to all as "Kick." As one who has always suffered from brother envy, I was curious about their bond and his enduring devotion.

Kick was the fourth child and second daughter of Joe and Rose Kennedy. She was vivacious and confident and, while in her late teens, she took pre-War London by storm when her father was FDR's Ambassador to the Court of St. James. Her life was glamorous, short and tragic -- almost Shakespearean in how pointless her death at age 28 ultimately was.* My favorite part of this book is when Byrne reprints Kick's own letters. Like this one to a friend:

One thing to be sure of: Life holds no fears for someone who has faced love, marriage, and death before the age of 25.

 *Like JFK Jr. level pointless.

Trustbridge, Hospice by the Sea

That's where Henry will live out his remaining days. He's receiving palliative care, so I am trying to find comfort in his comfort.

I found out the way Reg's 552 Facebook Friends did, with a social media post titled, "Hello, Everyone." He reports he hasn't cried. Just like Reg, to make this about Reg. I wonder how different Henry's life would be today if Reg could have just once gotten out of his own way and listened to other people who also love Henry.

But I'll never know that.

Henry's faith in God has always been unwavering. As a gay man raised Catholic, he's had major problems with organized religion over the years. But never with his faith. I don't know for sure what's going on in that bruised and broken mind of his, but I know he's conversing somehow with God. 

For his body to be in comfort and his soul at peace, that's what I wish for him now. He was a dear, loving man. If he loved you -- and he loved me -- he saw only good. He deserves all the grace God can give.

His mother died recently. She's waiting for him in Heaven. Their reunion will be beautiful.

 

  

He was on my mind

When I was a little girl I loved a popular song that began, "When I woke up this morning, you were on my mind ..." When I woke up this morning, that song and Anthony Rizzo were on my mind.

He went down in the 7th inning of the Yankees-Red Sox game. He collided with another player, fell, and rolled onto his right wrist. In the moment, I thought the important thing was that he was safe. After all, Rizz has been hit by pitches more than 200 times. He acknowledges the sting but then just shakes it off and takes first base.

But then he didn't get up.

He walked off the field with his manager and the Yankees medical team and was replaced on the base pads and in the line up. A preliminary fluoroscope at Fenway showed no broken bones, but he was still in pain, so more tests will be performed today.

This breaks my heart. I have always believed baseball is a metaphor for life, and Anthony Rizzo's travails seem to be about so much more than the game. 

In 2021, the Cubs traded him at the deadline. He did not want to go. Obviously. But he threw himself into being a Yankee. No whining, no complaints. In 2022 he was the victim of a botched epidural (a rather extreme way to treat back strain!) which cost him playing time. No whining, no complaints. In 2023 he played through an undiagnosed concussion (fuck you, Yankees medical staff), which not only threatened his career but his long-term cognitive abilities. This year he has fought to come back. He struggled and was even benched for a couple games -- embarrassing for a star of his stature -- but no whining, no complaints. He'd just regained his timing when this happened.

This should not be happening to him. He plays with such joie de vivre. A cancer survivor, he gives back with the same joy and passion. (Here's a recent post about his good works.) Yet he's in physical this morning as the New York press and some Yankee fans are literally feeding on his carcass. You'd think they'd be cheering for the hero in their midst to rebound, but no. They are calling for him to be dumped at the trade deadline.

I hate the unfairness of it. I have a gripe with Yankee fans and press but also with destiny and karma. Sometimes life just pisses me off so much!

Yes, when I woke up this morning, he was on my mind. And I'll be obsessing about him until the Yankees release word on his condition.