WHAT A CHARACTER! Blogathon

 

A TRIBUTE TO GAIL PATRICK

You know her: The dark-haired beauty who bedevils the fair-haired heroine. Stylish and smart, she was always a formidable foe, but -- movies being what they are -- she never wins. In short, spicy Gail Patrick helped make such leading ladies as Carole Lombard, Ginger Rogers and Irene Dunne seem twice as sweet. Her screen persona is clearly illustrated in three of her most famous films: My Man Godfrey, Stage Door, and My Favorite Wife.

My Man Godfrey (1936). At the center of this sublime screwball comedy are the Bullocks, a Park Avenue family has more eccentricities than sense. Gail Patrick is sophisticated Cornelia, the sister who has to win at all costs. The inimitable Carole Lombard is adorable Irene, who has so much heart and humor that they crowd out common sense or killer instinct, making it easy for Cornelia to best her at every opportunity … until a new butler, Godfrey (William Powell). enters their lives and puts his thumb on the scales, tipping them in Irene's favor.

Unlike the guileless Irene, Cornelia is smart and scheming and makes no attempt to hide it. At one point she requests a favor of her current beau, he automatically asks, "Who do you want killed?" She dismisses this comment as silly, not because she's not that kind of girl but because, "I do my own killing."

Cornelia is a beautiful woman, so it's not impossible to imagine men preferring her to the luminous Lombard. In Gail Patrick's best scene, Cornelia makes a serious play for Godfrey. He responds by telling her how he feels about her, calling her a spoiled "Park Avenue brat" who wastes her energies on childish pursuits that are beneath contempt -- even the contempt of a butler. Because Cornelia admires Godfrey, his words hit her like a whip. She visibly winces but then replies haughtily, "Thank you for a lovely portrait." Naturally, we're glad our hero Godfrey sees Cornelia for the selfish scorpion she is and prefers Irene. But the way Patrick plays it, we're touched by her sad attempt to retain her dignity and we find ourselves pulling for her despite ourselves, hoping that she will see the light and turn her life around.

Stage Door (1937).  Instead of an heiress, she's a working girl, just another aspiring Broadway starlet in a very full rooming house, waiting for her big break. While the movie stars the indomitable Katharine Hepburn, Gail Patrick's Linda finds herself tangling not with Kate but with Ginger Rogers' Jean.

Linda and Jean are dancers who compete not only for musical-comedy parts, but for the attention of the much older and very influential producer, Anthony Powell (suave and slimy Adolphe Menjou). As the movie begins, Linda is Powell's current "flavor of the month." Linda relishes this not only because it can advance her career, but because Powell is showing her a life she could never afford on her own. It also gives her prestige in the boarding house. And remember, Linda is sharing space with some very formidable roommates -- in addition to Hepburn and Rogers, the stellar cast includes Lucille Ball and Eve Arden.

It would be easy for Patrick to get lost amid all these  smart-talking dames, but she doesn't. She rises above, working so hard to command respect that she never sinks into villainy. Yes, she's sleeping with the producer to further her career. The movie is rather frank about that. But she's also sympathetic because Linda clearly realizes how tenuous her position is. She attempts to hide her desperation by appearing tough and confident, even when confronted by a pretty blonde replacement (Rogers' Jean).

The scenes between Linda and Jean crackle with tension, because (1) each recognizes how worthy her adversary is, and (2) the prizes at stake -- a modicum of financial stability and even better, a part! -- are so rare and dear in their world.

Linda: If you were a little more considerate, maybe Mr. Powell would send his car for you someday. Of course, he would probably take one look at you and send it back … You know, I think I could fix you up with Mr. Powell's chauffeur. The chauffeur has a very nice car, too.

Jean: Yes, but I understand that Mr. Powell's chauffeur doesn't go as far in his car as Mr. Powell does.

Linda: Well, even a chauffeur has to have an incentive.

My Favorite Wife (1940). At last it looks like Gail Patrick gets the man. And, oh, what a man! At the beginning of the movie, her Bianca Bates marries Nick Arden, played by none other than Cary Grant. But romance never runs smoothly for typical Gail Patrick girls, and Bianca is no different.

The film opens with Bianca and Nick trading I Do's before a judge. Nick has just had his beloved wife Ellen declared dead, a full seven years after she went missing at sea. While Nick and Ellen were once happy together and had two lovely children, he believes it's time to move on.

Unbeknownst to Nick and Bianca, Ellen Arden (Irene Dunne) has just been rescued from the Indonesian island where she's been shipwrecked all this time and she's on her way to back to a joyous reunion with her husband and children.  Uh-oh!

After she receives a tip from Nick's sympathetic mother, Ellen takes off for Yosemite, hoping to interrupt Nick and Bianca's honeymoon and reclaim her man. Just as the elevators close, taking him and his new bride to their hotel room, Nick catches sight of Ellen. But it can't be! He just had her declared dead! Naturally, he's shaken.

After quite a bit of charming slapstick, Nick realizes that Ellen is indeed back, healthy and whole, and he's thrilled to have her. But now he has two wives. What to do?

The contrast between heroine and interloper is so clearly drawn, it's as though director Garson Kanin and screenwriter/producer Leo McCarey used a thick, black magic marker. Irene Dunne is fair-haired, Gail Patrick is dark. Dunne's character is the homespun Ellen, and Patrick is the more exotic Bianca. Ellen is a loving mother, Bianca is childless and, at best, a dubious stepmother. Ellen was able to thrive on a deserted island, whereas Bianca couldn't survive without room service. The sophisticated Bianca calls on a foreign-born psychiatrist to help her understand Nick's sudden coolness and erratic behavior. Ellen is a well-adjusted, neuroses-free All American Girl.

So while the movie itself is funny and endearing, in My Favorite Wife, Gail Patrick found her quintessential, and most thankless, role. With Bianca she's not so much a character as a clever plot device. Yet she acquits herself admirably. Nick makes it clear that Bianca was good to/for him after he "lost" his wife and, if he's not exactly in love with her, he appreciates her and doesn't want to hurt her. So it's Cary Grant's humanity and charm in the role of Nicky that engenders sympathy for Bianca, not the script.

A full career after movies. In 1947, at the age of 36, Gail Patrick married literary agent Cornwell Jackson and walked away from acting. A lifelong diabetic who found childbearing difficult (she gave birth to premature twins who lived only a short time), it's sweet and touching that upon her retirement she opened a playground in her home, an informal daycare for the children of working actors and actresses. She also took her lifelong love of fashion and turned that toward kids, designed a line of children's wear. Happily, she and Jackson eventually adopted two children to complete their family.

Then, in 1957, she returned to show biz, behind the camera. Her husband was Erle Stanley Gardner's agent, and that gave her a huge advantage when she wanted to bring Gardner's Perry Mason character to television. She executive produced 271 episodes of the extraordinarily successful show for CBS and Gardner's Paisano Productions.

She in died 1980 at age 69, but she lives on through the Gail Patrick Charitable Trust Scholarship. In her will, she left $1 million to the help "young women of distinction" continue their education, regardless of their finances. She is also remembered for lending her time and talents to the American Lung Association's Christmas Seals Campaign. "My Man Godfrey" would have been very proud of how beautifully "Miss Cornelia" turned out!

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Three great bloggers/Twitter pals, Kellee (@IrishJayhawk66), Aurora (@CitizenScreen), and Paula (@Paula_Guthat), are co-hosting a celebration of character actors–those indelible supporting players who populate some of our favorite films. As they explain:

“[We] are dedicating an event to the great character actors that so enhanced our classic movies. To the faces, the laughs, the drama presented by these wonderful actors whose names all too often go unrecognized we dedicate WHAT A CHARACTER!

• Would Casablanca be as great without the laughs provided by S. K. Sakall?
• Would we want to look out Rear Window if not for the warnings of Thelma Ritter?
• Can you measure how much Edward Everett Horton added to the fabulous Astaire/Rogers pictures?

We think these and so many others deserve their due. 

So, here we are with a blogathon in their honor.”

The Return of the Sister

My older sister left for California at noon on Tuesday. I really thought that after she glared at me and yelled and yelled Monday afternoon I was done with her. And then she rose again like Glenn Close in the tub at the end of Fatal Attraction.

She spent Wednesday on the phone to lawyers here in Chicagoland and then to my kid sister, suggesting an alternate to the lawyer I have chosen and how I should handle my mother's estate. She did not call me directly.

I don't know what my sister told the other attorney. My mother really had nothing but bills. We don't have a lot of options for how to handle her "estate." And the will is clear -- I am the executor and I make the decisions. My lawyer is my lawyer. I like him, I trust him, he handles wills and real estate all the time. He is handling it.


I just have to be careful to cross my t's and dot my i's in case she challenges everything six months or a year from now. That's why I consulted an accountant this afternoon.

Real estate agents, the reverse mortgage lender, Social Security, a lawyer, an accountant ... I think I'm done with the phone calls for a while. This weekend we'll receive reports from the realtors that will confirm what we already know -- my mother's house is not worth anywhere near $200,000. Then we'll settle with her reverse mortgage lender, file the will, and begin to pay off my mom's final debts.

In the meantime, my kid sister is packing up the house. She has a lot to contend with, too.

If only our older sister would return to the bottom of the tub.

Thursday Thirteen #189

THIRTEEN PROFESSIONS THAT MAY 

BE HAZARDOUS TO YOUR HEALTH

According to The Daily Beast, these are the thirteen most dangerous jobs anyone can hold. They used an intricate equation that includes how many workers are in the industry, how many injuries and how many fatalities. I admit I couldn't follow it all. What I list here are just "the high hard ones." These sobering stats make me glad my mother made me learn clerical skills.

-->

Profession	Per 100,000 workers	Salary
1) Fisherman	200 deaths	$22,160
2) Firefighter	11,600 injuries	$47,760
3) Airplane Pilot	57 deaths	$53,990
4) Police Officer	13 deaths	$55,400
5) Logger	4,200 injuries	$35,360
6) Roofer	5,300 injuries	$41,200
7) Sanitation Worker	25 deaths	$37,830
8) Bus Driver	7,600 injuries	$34,820
9) Dairy Farmer	14 deaths	$24,930
10) Grain Farmer	4,700 injuries	$24,930
11) Courier or Messenger	6,800 injuries	$39,940
12) Industrial Machinery Repairman	18 deaths	$42,220
13) Athlete	6,300 injuries	$44,790

For more information about the Thursday Thirteen,

or to play yourself, click here.

Better living through chemistry

I realized during my mother's service that, even though he died nearly two years ago, I'm still not over her baby brother, my uncle.

At my mom's house I found a letter I wrote him in "Agust 13, 1967" when he was in Viet Nam. Lined paper, torn from my spiral school notebook. "I hear you were in battle. I bet it wasn't fun. Please don't get hurt!" Do you realize he kept that in his foot locker, brought it home, and took it with him every time he moved over the decades until he died? He and I, we loved each other.

I didn't expect to still feel so bad about him. It makes me wonder when the full impact of my mother's death will hit me. 

Consequently, I haven't been sleeping. I am desperately tired, but cannot sleep.

I called my doctor, who told what I am going through is not unusual. She gave me a prescription for sleep meds. Hopefully, if I take a pill at bedtime, soon I'll resume sleeping through the night and wake up refreshed in the morning.

Today is Wednesday. I have four nights, really, to sleep. I'd prefer not to take the meds before I have to be back at work Monday morning.

The Root of All Evil

There is no hell in the afterlife. I know this because I have recently experienced it here on earth.

No one in my immediate family has any money, it seems. This includes my older sister, who had been bragging about how important she is and how well her job is going, yet now tells me she's broke. And boy, is she ever mad at me.

Apparently I am supposed to pay the utilities and property taxes on our mother's house until it sells for $200,000 so that we can break even with the reverse mortgage. Not make money, mind you. Break even. That house is worth $150,000 in this market. She refuses to believe it because the lot is so huge. She thinks someone will pay $200,000 for the land and tear the house down and build apartments. Why would someone pay full price for a home to level when they can buy a foreclosed property for a fraction of that?

She also is willing to wait 3 to 6 months to enjoy the mythic bonanza of riches that we will reap. The thing of it is, the bill from the funeral home is due within 30 days. I have paid $4000 on it already. Another $6400 is due. I am on the hook for it. I told her that all her plans for storage lockers and garage sales and Craig's List and real estate deals don't help me when that bill comes due.

She started yelling at me. And yelling at me. She called me a martyr and said I was grating on her. She told me she doesn't have to give me anything on the funeral home bill. I told her that's just what I always expected her to say.

It was ugly. One niece started to cry until she threw up. The other one hid in the basement.

Then she hugged me and started to cry and said we were sisters. Gee, that explains why she was always around the house. She said that she's broke but promises that, within 30 days, she will "make a dent" in the remaining $6400.

I'm on the hook for it.

My mom's will is clear. I am in charge. If I can't handle it, my kid sister takes control. Only if both of us relinquish control does my older sister get involved. This is not what I wanted. This is not what I expected. But my mother did it for a reason.

I invited my older sister to meet with me and my lawyer to be nice. I didn't have to. Before she arrived, he made it clear to me that as executor, he is MY attorney. He will advise me and answer any of her questions, but he will only take direction from me.

We're going to get three estimates on the house this week. Then what I'll do is call the bank and tell them to take the deed to the house in lieu. That will free up my mom's checking account and her handful of shares of Met Life stock. That will put us to about $9000.

Out of that will come legal costs, my mom's final bills and the storage until until we can have a sale to dispose of her belongings. And my uncle's final belongings. My kid sister can't pay anything, but she's going to handle the lion's share of packing and disposing. It's an emotional and hard job, so I don't begrudge her.

My older sister is a cunt. But she's now back in California where she belongs.

On a brighter note, I think the service went well. My aunt/godmother stayed glued to my side. Four good friends came by and stayed for a good while. I got through it and it's over.

On Heaven

I miss my mother. But only selfishly.

Now she is in Heaven. Healthy and whole and reunited with her baby brother (my uncle) and my dad. My parents had a difficult marriage in its final decades but I know they loved one another once and am convinced that now, in Heaven, they are restored to when they were at their best, and together.

I had a lover who didn't believe in the afterlife and told me it was a crutch. If that's true, well, it's a crutch I lean heavily on right now.

Except it's not true. My mom is in Heaven, sitting on the arm of my dad's recliner with her head in his neck, or laughing at one of my uncle's ridiculous puns.

I may be lonely and hurting but she is at peace. And that is God's greatest gift.

Sunday Stealing: The 88 Meme: The Last Part Thankfully

69. Song you're thinking of right now?

70. Want someone back in your life? My mom. I am laying her to rest today.

71. Will tomorrow be better than today? Oh, please God, yes!

72. What's the color of the underwear you are wearing? I’m wearing my favorite white Hanes granny panties.

73. Who was the first best friend that you ever had? My oldest friend. We met in kindergarten and Beatle bonded in first grade. She was on the phone with me for hours last night.

74. How do you react when someone disappoints you? I’m either pissed or sad.

75. Is there anyone who understands your sexuality? I had a younger lover who really knew where all my buttons were. It’s funny, because he and I had little in common except for his intricate knowledge of my buttons.

76. Are you a naturally happy person? Or is your happiness forced? I’m naturally happy. I’m blessed that way.

77. Is there anyone you wish would fall in love with you? Yes

78. What do you wear when you sleep? Lately I have a pair of “I Love Lucy” nightshirts in rotation

79. Are you obsessed with something right now? Yes. Money. And I hate it.

80. The first person you loved is? My mommy, and she died

81. Something terrible happened with you? I wasted too much time on the wrong man

82. You are locked up with your celebrity crush for days, what happens? It would be Bruce Willis. So please, make your own Die Hard joke here.

83. If you could wish something, what would it be? That today would be over.

 
84. Ever try to force someone to do something? Yes. And I'm seldom successful.

85. When you are alone, what do you think about? Stuff.

 
86. How was your first sex? It was fine. It wasn't great. But I feel lucky because I've heard other girls recall it being painful.

87. What's your favorite music genre? What genre are the Beatles?

88. Are you happy I only wrote 88 questions? Nah. I could talk about myself all the live-long day.

The Calvary Is Coming

Sometimes being surrounded by family feels like being under seige. So later today, when we lay my mother to rest, it will be pretty awful.

First of all, he will be there. The relative who molested me when I was a teen, our family patriarch, will take his place of honor at the service. This is the last time I will ever have to see him. While I'm sorry that he didn't predecease my mother, it is what it is.

Fortunately, my aunt/godmother has flown in for the service. She is my dad's kid sister. With the passing of my mother, her last direct tie to my mother's family was severed and so she seemed to be the logical person to turn to in this. She has no divided loyalties. She has promised that she won't let him near me. I explained to her that my Cousin Rose, the person who may love me most in the world, will be there and has no idea what her uncle did to me. While I have no interest in protecting the old bastard, this is not the time to disillusion Rose or break her heart. Her heart is too dear. So my aunt will simply run interference for me. (Not that it's simple. To me it's a huge relief!)

My older sister is angry at me because I have asked her twice to commit to how much she will help with the $9,615.48 bill that I will be presented with at 3:00 today. I have to put at least $3,205 down today and pay the rest in full in a month.

This is literally keeping me up at night. My mom had no life insurance. If I empty out my savings to pay this, what if I lose my job? It makes no sense to touch my retirement savings because I'll be risking my old age. At first my sister told me that she had to discuss this with her husband. Then last night she snapped at me that we would we do what we discussed -- I would pay for it all of it and she would pay me back. We never discussed that. She told me how upset she was having to fly in and that we would discuss it again when she "can cope." Unfortunately, waiting until I "can cope" is not a luxury I can afford. I'm being handed a bill at 3:00 today my meeting with lawyer to walk me through all this stuff isn't until 3:00 tomorrow. I am terrified I will make an uninformed, stupid mistake that will have ongoing legal consequences.

My mother was not one who believed in organized religion. Her own parents divorced in the 1940s, and instead of being supported by the church community, my grandmother was ostracized as a slut. So my mom had no minister. The funeral home put me in touch with a non-denominational minster who will speak over her. I told him she would want the Serenity Prayer because her mother, an alcoholic, got such comfort from it through AA and so that prayer was a bond they shared. Because my mother loved animals and the outdoors, I requested this verse from Job:

“But ask the animals, and they will teach you, or the birds in the sky, and they will tell you; or speak to the earth, and it will teach you, or let the fish in the sea inform you. Which of all these does not know, that the hand of the Lord has done this? In His hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind."

I asked the minister to tread lightly about my dad, just say that met and married in the same hometown where my mother lived all her life and would be laid to rest. I reminded him over and over not to mention my grandmother's drinking, just that she and her daughter shared the Serenity Prayer. I asked him to mention my mother's brother, the uncle whose death I'm still not quite passed. 

But what do you bet someone will be mad at me about the service? I just know that I did something hideously wrong that I will get slammed for.

Oh, well. My aunt/godmother and Cousin Rose will be there. A couple of my longest-standing girlfriends promised to be there. I have friends who promised to keep their cellphones on if I need to run out during the visitation and scream. So I do have reinforcements.

I just wish today was over. 

I just wish that instead of this mess, I still had my mom.

Saturday 9

Saturday 9: Life is a Lemon And I Want My Money Back

 1.     When was the last time that you asked for your money back? I recently returned a blouse to Macy’s. Buyer’s remorse.

2.     What was the last thing that you did to help someone? I have been working very hard to be sensitive to my niece and nephew since their grandma (my mother) died. They are trying so hard to be strong!

3.     At what point of your life do you think you started to understand who you are? In my mid-thirties.

4.     Are there times when you thought you had taken a fall, only to discover more about yourself? I have discovered through adversity that I am a tough old broad.

5.     What was the last thing you did where you could not believe in what you were doing? Not sure I understand the question. The last time I could not believe WHAT I was doing what I was doing was yesterday, when we were laughing in the funeral director’s office about music for my mother’s service. Her favorite song was “After the Loving” by Engelbert Humperdinck. Hardly appropriate for the occasion (or, well, anything). It was nice to be laughing affectionately with my sister and niece but surreal to be in this situation.

     The schmaltz & sideburns are for you, Mom!

6.     Do you think that you must struggle to become strong? I dunno. I think perhaps you is or you ain’t.

7.     Do you feel that your dreams have meaning or are entirely random? Yes. I mean, I think that reality and symbolism drive our dreams but elements are random.

8.     What was the last promise you broke? I feel bad about this, but I don’t think I’m going to take my mother’s cat, Nora. My mom only had the poor thing a few weeks when she got sick and went into the hospital two weeks ago. Nora isn’t comfortable around other cats (I have three) and has been rattling around, alone, in a big house without the TLC I think she needs and deserves. If I took her, I’d have to leave her closed up in my den until she could slowly adapt to life among my feline roommates, and that seems unfair. So to give her a crack at being a happy only cat in a forever home, I think Nora will be returning to the humane society. I know my mother would not approve, but I have to put my own cats’ welfare, and what’s right for Nora, first.

9.     Do you collect anything? Cats. Because, let’s face it, I may back down and take Nora anyway.

Thank you, Everyone!

I read the messages of support and condolence when I posted that my mom died. I am touched by how kind everyone was!*

I am more authentically myself on this blog than I am anywhere else. Certainly more so than  Facebook. Possibly even more than in real life. So your messages of support here feel just as authentic and real as the Hallmark card that came in the mail.

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

*SHOUT OUT TO VIVIAN: I saw your comment about Sir Paul in St. Louis. Are you the most adorable blog buddy or what! I am too worried about money and time off work just now to even consider it. But please know it made me so happy. You touched my heart.

Day for Night

I don't know how much of it is stress, or grief, or terror, or the remnants of my flu, but I don't sleep like other people any more. I become exhausted in the afternoons and sleep so that I can wake up after midnight. This is not smart.

My mommy died. 

I am overwhelmed. My mom had no life insurance. I have 30 days to come up with $10,000 to pay for the funeral, $2,000 for the burial and about $5,000 in estate/legal/court costs.

I now own a house, and all it's contents. And its reverse mortgage. Which means that until it sells -- and hey, good luck with that, Gal -- I'm now responsible for its insurance and maintenance and property taxes and utilities. Though while looking around for stuff, my nephew did find $1000 in cash and a never-used ATM card. (My mom didn't trust those cash machines.)

I am scared.

I was over at her house today, for the first time since she died, collecting tons of paperwork for the lawyer. I saw the vase of dried lavender stalks I brought back from Colonial Williamsburg. I saw her shower cap hanging on the back of the bathroom door.

She simply left the house one morning for a long Labor Day weekend. She not only didn't mean to leave me this mess, she didn't intend to leave me at all.

How I wish I had HER, and not her STUFF.

My mom died

At about 2:30 this morning. I guess she had a heart attack. It doesn't actually matter, as long as it was peaceful and I'm assured it was. I think she was just tired of being sick.

I am very numb and very tired and I know I will miss her enormously. But right now I keep hearing this Carly Simon song in my head ...


Can you clear up the mystery of the Sphinx?
Do you know any more about God?
Are you dancing with Benjamin Franklin
On the face of the moon?
Have you reconciled with Dad?
Does the rain still make you sad?
Last night I swear I could feel you
Moving through my room
And I thought you touched my feet
I so wanted it to be true
And in my theater there is a stage
And a footlight you can always step into...
I'll wait no more for you like a daughter,
That part of our life together is over
But I will wait for you, forever
Like a river...

In the river I know I will find the key
And your voice will rise like the spray
In the moment of knowing
The tide will wash away my doubt
'Cause you're already home
Making it nice for when I come home
Like the way I find my bed turned down
Coming in from a late night out.
Please keep reminding me
Of what in my soul I know is true 


http://www.lyricsfreak.com/c/carly+simon/like+a+river_20027335.html

Thursday Thirteen #188

WHY EVERYBODY KNOWS SOMEBODY

NAMED "MICHAEL"

According to the Social Security Administration, here are the 13 most popular boys names from 2011.

1) Jacob
2) Mason
3) William
4) Jayden
5) Noah
6) Michael
7) Ethan
8) Alexander
9) Aidan
10) Daniel
11) Anthony
12) Matthew
13) Elijah

I checked 2001 and 1961, and "Michael" appears near the top on those lists, too. While my search was by no means exhaustive, it looks like it became massively popular in the mid-1940s and has remained so ever since.

The nearest female equivalent is "Elizabeth," which hangs rather tenaciously in the top 20 though she doesn't rank as consistently high as "Michael."

For more information about 

the Thursday Thirteen,

or to play yourself, click here.

I Want Wednesday

I want this to all be behind us. My mother wants out of the nursing home she's in. She's currently sharing a room with three other people, all there for long-term hospice care. BUT that is because she was checked in last night at 11:00 PM* and they had nothing else available for her. If she's not in a semi private room today, she will be soon.

She just wants out. The home she's in is "not acceptable." It smells bad. The people in her room make nasty noises. It cannot possibly be the best we can do for her.

Um ... yeah, well it is. It got a 5-star rating from the Department of Health and Human Services and an A on Angie's List. And, thanks to Medicare, the first 20 days are free.

If she leaves there, we'll have to find 24/7 private nurses for her. I don't have thousands of dollars in a box under my bed to foot that bill. And besides, the facility she's in has an onsite pharmacy for pain management and facilities for respiratory and physical therapy, which she wouldn't get at home.

I know she's been through a lot and she's angry about being sick again. But she is where she needs to be.

*Their usual closing time is 8:00, so they stretched the rules to accommodate my mom.

Not sleeping

It's 4:00 AM and I'm blogging. Why?

Because I can't sleep. Mostly because I can't breathe. It's pathetic what a baby I am when I have a cold. I complained less about the discomfort of having my internal organs removed (a year ago at this time!) than about this weariness and nasal congestion (my throat feels better just now).

Part of it is worry about money. My mom checked into a nursing home in her hometown, about 20 minutes from me, this evening. Her doctors in Madison, WI, predict she'll be there two weeks. Which is good because not only is she feeling "antsy," Medicare will pay for up to 20 days.

I hadn't planned for paying for my mother's healthcare costs. I help her out every month because she's my mom. I pay for her Medicare Part B insurance and her snow removal every autumn and give her a $20 giftcard* for the local drugstore each month. That comes out to about $230/month. I can afford that and I'm happy to do it because she is my mother.

I have always known in the back of my mind that I'll have to pay the lion's share of her funeral costs because she doesn't have life insurance and because my sisters are ... well ... the way they are. (One is always broke and the other has never been forthcoming with money for our mother.) This I am not happy about because it's so not fair but hopefully it's not something I'll have to deal with for quite a while.

But this was never on my radar. Not for a moment. I'm going to be 55 in two months. If I empty out my savings to pay for my mom's care, who will pay for my old age and retirement? I don't have kids to lean on.

This scares me awake.

But hopefully she will be strong enough after two weeks that she will be able to come home. Her recovery so far has been really awesome. I'm surprised and impressed by how tough she's turned out to be.

Much tougher than her whiny middle daughter, who has a cold.

*She uses it for "treats" -- nice shampoo for herself, treats for her cat, presents for the grandkids …

Image: FreeDigitalPhotos.net

It bears repeating

On the morning of September 11, 2001, The Today Show did a quick story about an event at Washington's Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts. I have no recollection of what that event was -- naturally the news of the today overtook it -- but I do remember one of the last things I saw before the first plane hit the Tower and our world changed forever.

It was grainy news footage of President Kennedy from 1962 regarding the importance of The National Cultural Center, which would be renamed for him:

"I am certain that after the dust of centuries has passed over our cities, we, too, will be remembered not for victories or defeats in battle or in politics, but for our contribution to the human spirit."

And so it is after 9/11. It's no longer the rage over the unwarranted attack on civilians that moves me. It's the tremendous pride and tenderness I feel when I recall how we all pulled together to overcome it.

God bless everyone who perished, and everyone who persevered, the day Al Queda put "a black hole in the sun."

Ah-Choo!

My niece is having wisdom teeth removed today. My mother is still in the hospital. So I feel guilty for feeling as debilitated by this cold as I do.

I can't sleep but I'm weary to the bone. I can't breathe. I can't think. I have a damp tissue forever embedded in my hand. I just want to lay down.

I suffer from a sore throat, a cough and more than an occasional sneeze. But no fever. So I really should just buck up and recognize that this is really not that bad. (Even though it so feels like it.)

Trifecta

This weekend's challenge: Take the 33 words below and then add 33 of your own words to move the story along:

The last strains of sunlight lingered in the corners, grasping every available point of refraction.  She slid her fingertips along the glass wondering if this was all there ever was. Or could be.

Winter days are always short, and none felt shorter than this. She waited for Christmas all year, planned for it and imbued it with such importance, and then it was over so quickly. 

Blessed and Healed

To most of the world, Eddie Vedder is the lead singer of Pearl Jam. To me, he's a fellow Cub fan. "Go All the Way" is his anthem, and these lyrics mean a great deal to me:

Don't let anyone say that it's just a game
For I've seen other teams and it's never the same
When you're born in Chicago you're blessed and you're healed
The first time you walk into Wrigley Field
Our heroes wear pinstripes
Heroes in blue
Give us the chance to feel like heroes too
Forever we'll win and if we should lose
We know someday we'll go all the way
Yeah
Someday we'll go all the way

I was thinking of this song as I sat there in my seat Friday night, waiting for my friends to arrive and the Boss to begin his show. I was so happy to be in Wrigley Field. It was such a balm to my soul. I have never had a bad time there. How could I while watching my heroes in blue … or sitting through the one Bear game I ever attended with my dad when I was a little girl … or seeing Sir Paul in concert almost exactly a year ago? It always feels like a privilege to be inside The Friendly Confines.

So imagine my surprise and delight when I saw Eddie Vedder get onstage, at Wrigley Field, to sing with Bruce! They performed "Atlantic City" together. I was happy for both Eddie the Rocker and Eddie the Cub fan.