When the going gets tough, the tough go to the movies

I have always been afraid of clowns. The summer when I was 7, I saw The Greatest Show on Earth. A doctor is unjustly accused of killing his wife and avoids prosecution by escaping and joining the circus. He always wears his clown makeup so he won't be recognized and taken back into custody. I entirely missed the "unjustly accused" detail and was terrified of his pointy "I-killed-my-wife" smile. (BTW, I may be the only person in the world who grew up afraid of Jimmy Stewart.)

And so, on Sunday, I went to see IT. Stephen King's Pennywise is the ultimate in clown horror. I didn't misunderstand Pennywise. I got it, loud and clear, when said he liked scaring children before he eats them because fear makes them taste better. He's a voracious, sadistic bastard who is aided and abetted by adults, who either ignore their children or terrorize them in their own way.

I was frightened about my friends in Key West. I tried to watch baseball, but my darling Cubbies were losing ... and to the BREWERS in these all-important late season games. I needed to thoroughly distract myself from real life. And damn, if Pennywise didn't do it for me.

Sunday, terror was my mental sorbet. And I'm grateful.

Four little letters: F-I-N-E

My friends, Henry and Reg, are, in a word, "fine." Have you ever heard a more glorious word?

Instead of evacuating Key West, they rode out Hurricane Irma. They've been incommunicado since Friday night. I can't begin to describe what a frightening and anxious four days I've had.

Somehow today, Reg got word to his father in Maine that he and Henry are "fine." Dad told Reg's sister, who posted it on Facebook. I spread the word to Henry's friend, Katie.

I'm worried about those guys, of course. I can't imagine what their lives are like. Few passable roads and bridges. No power. No gas. No fresh water. I just heard that electricity isn't expected to be restored to Key West until the 22nd, a week from Friday.

Is their house OK? What about their car? And the dogs? Do they have enough food? Are they able to wash and brush their teeth and flush? I mean, it's hot and humid down there!

Right now, all I have are those four letters: F-I-N-E.

It's a relief, but it's not enough.

Saturday 9

Saturday 9: Sign of the Times (2017)

... because Cat recommended Harry Styles  

1) In this song, Harry sings, "We don't talk enough, we should open up before it's all too much." When you have something serious on your mind, who do you share it with? Depends on the situation ... and the timing. Right now, with so many of my friends struggling (see posts below), it would be John because he's the one with the greatest bandwidth. Everything seems to be good with John right now (knock wood).

2) As a kid, Harry wanted to be a lawyer because he can see "both sides." Are you good at seeing both sides of an argument? Professionally, yes. Personally, no.

3) He can't decide which is favorite color -- orange or blue. Help Harry out: which of those

colors do you prefer? BLUE! Specifically Pantone 294, which is Cubbie blue.

4) Harry says he prefers older women, but would never go out with someone older than his mother. Do you think age disparity matters in romance? Yes. Not in terms of sex. I think we can be attracted to the most unlikely people! But in terms of cultural references and shared experiences, I believe age does matter over the long haul.

5) He admits to a big crush on Adele, who is six years older than he is. Who are you crushing on right now? (It doesn't have to be a celebrity.) I once watched the sun rise and bathe the Swiss Alps in pink and gold light. It was almost as beautiful as this face.

6) It makes Harry's skin crawl when he sees people use their teeth to open bottles. What creeps you out? Certain smells. Strong coffee, those sickly sweet skinny cigars, marijuana. BLECH! 

7) When he's on the road, his go-to food is tacos. Do you like Mexican food? Mexican food does not like me.

 

8) Harry has never smoked. Have you ever been a smoker? If you quit, how did you successfully kick the habit? I have never smoked anything. I forgot to add that the thought of blowing smoke out of my nose and mouth into the air around me is one of the things that creeps me out. I mean, how is that NOT germy and filthy?

9) Random Question: As she pulls out of her parking space, an elderly woman in an old car scrapes an expensive car. Then she drives away. You witness the whole thing. Do you make a note of her license plate and leave it for the owner of the expensive car? Or do you just mind your own business? Oh, hell, I don't know. Not being a car person, I don't really have a strong feeling about this. I might think, "Oh, she's old and probably poor or she wouldn't be driving a beater so let's give her a break." Or I might think, "Isn't this why people have insurance?" and leave a note. Or maybe I won't be able find a scrap of paper in my massive purse. This question is beyond me today.

Which leads me to this: As Crazy Sam's staff, I try to visit everyone who plays Saturday 9. But this week, I'm Irma obsessed. Many of my loved ones are waiting for the impact of this storm and I'm sick with worry. So if you don't hear from me this week, I apologize for my distracted slackerness.

The Round Up

So much is going on with my friends and loved ones! So little of it is good!

My oldest friend is battling depression big time this week. She was told that, on October 9, she will be unemployed. The doctors she works for have sold the practice to a Catholic, not-for-profit healthcare service. Ironically, this company that prides itself on providing affordable healthcare to those in need, has told her that the job she needs so badly has been eliminated in the merger. So now, at age 61, with little money in the bank and a litany of health problems, she's starting over ... again. This is the fourth (fifth?) job she's had since she's moved to California. She only left one of her own volition. She's bereft. Unfortunately, I really can't be there for her right now. I'm too keyed up about Hurricane Irma. Besides, I tried to call her right after she shared the news and she didn't bother to pick up. When she gets like this -- when she doesn't want to talk, just wants to pour her feelings out in email after email -- there's little I can do for her. I love her, I depend on her, I worry about her. But I know her. She doesn't want to hear from me. She just wants to know I'm here.

My cousin and aunt are fine. Not happy, but fine. Though they don't know each other -- different sides of the family -- they both happen to live outside Tampa. Cousin Rose is headed for Birmingham with her sister. My aunt, her husband and their big poodle are may already be in Macon. I'm worried about what they will return to after Irma, but at least I know they are safe right now.

My friend Barb has more worries. Yes, she just lost the love of her life to cancer. Yes, she is pre-occupied with planning his memorial service. Yes, she has serious health problems of her own. And yes, the beautiful new home they built -- from scratch, to spec, over the space of more than a year -- is in the path of Hurricane Irma. Hilton Head, SC, has been evacuated. I tell myself this may be a blessing. If God and Mother Nature take her house out, then she doesn't have to decide whether or not she wants to live in it without her beloved husband.

The Cubs lost to the Brewers this evening. At any other time, that would be the lead story of my Friday. Now the Brewers and the Cardinals are tied for second place, four games behind us. This late in the season, I would prefer a bigger lead. I don't expect another World Series, but I would like my champions in blue to make a showing in the play-offs. Also, John Lackey got the loss. Since I have decided to be John Lacky's fan -- I've seen no fans in Lackey jerseys, ever -- I take this very personally.

Good News! My nephew started his first job today! He went through orientation at McDonald's and will work his first shift on Sunday.

"We are leaving it to Irma and Geico"

I texted with my friend Henry all day today and spoke to him tonight. He was really quite cheerful and very busy, preparing to ride out Irma.

He and Reg cleaned out the garage and to make room for their patio furniture and potted plants. They are taking care of the car that runs, the hybrid. But as for the one that doesn't run, the one Reg really, really is going to find parts for someday, "We are leaving it to Irma and Geico."

They set up the generator. I didn't quite understand what he told me he decided to do with the big tree near the back porch. I know he loves that tree, but sometimes his Puerto Rican accent comes between me and comprehension.

Then, Friday evening, he let me know that they relocated, after all. At first I was relieved, now less so. For, while they have their three-story townhouse* farther inland ("inland" being a relative term when you're talking about a small island), they have taken refuge in a big (for Key West) house nearer the ocean. Henry says this house is "sturdier" their wood A-frame. He is more worried about wind than water. The noises here, he believes, be less terrifying to Reg, who is just more naturally afraid of hurricanes.

"We are en suite," he happily reported. They are sharing this 6BR, 3BA with (I think) three other couples. Since they were last to arrive -- and came with three dogs -- they were put in what would, at other times, be the best room in the house but for Irma is the least desirable. They're in the master bedroom on the ground floor in the back. But they have their own bathroom, and this makes him happy, since he assumes they will be there for two nights.

Yes, he thinks he and Reg will pack up "the fur babies" and drive home on Sunday afternoon.

He barely knows the couple who took him, Reg and the dogs in now, at the last minute. The man is the ex-husband of Henry's friend, Sherry. The divorce was decades ago and, apparently, amicable -- perhaps because Sherry left him because she wanted to live as a lesbian, the truest manifestation of "it's not you, it's me" I've ever heard. Anyway, that's Key West at it's best. "You're scared? You need room for a night, or a week? C'mon in, and bring your dogs."

In the meantime, I am sick with worry. I wish it was Sunday night, and I was journaling here about how safe my friends are.
 

*The ground floor is the garage.

Baby!

I saw little Napoleon TWICE in two days! At first I was ambivalent about it. After all, this lively little fluff ball brightens my day every time I see him. On the other hand, I'm really pulling for his humans to get consistent, full-time work before it gets too cold. Sleeping in a tent by the river is not healthy and not safe -- especially not with a Chicago winter on the way.

Thursday I saw him with his male human and got more of the story. Yes, Dad is doing an internship as a window washer in Indiana. And he has to put in a certain number of hours with a supervisor before he can legally make  the full hourly wage. But he has nowhere to live in Indiana, so he's dependent on a friend who travels back and forth to Chicago. I mean, they're homeless. They don't have a car and he can't afford a hotel room in Indiana. So he lives in his friend's car and is dependent on his friend for rides. When his friend returns to Chicago, so must he. His new boss is very understanding of Dad's unusual situation and is supportive, allowing him to spread his internship over the month (where, I guess, most employers would insist it done in a week). He hopes to soon have a marketable skill and begin making $15 to $20/hour. Then he can afford to send for his wife, and Napoleon, and live indoors at a shelter that allows animals until they have enough to get an apartment. His wife is trained as a beautician and once they're living indoors, where she can bathe regularly and keep her clothes clean, she will take the boards to be licensed in Indiana.

Then we started talking about my book, Helter Skelter. He is a fan of true crime books, and knows that Ann Rule is the author of the definitive book on Ted Bundy, The Stranger Beside Me. I found a free copy of an Ann Rule book at my local Free Little Library. I will carry it in my purse until I can get it to him.

All the while, Napoleon slept. Blissful in his dad's lap.

Then today I ran into Napoleon with his "mom." Dad's in Indiana for at least the next few days. She says she's afraid of heights, so she's not crazy about his new career, but he's so enthusiastic about being able to make steady money that she's happy for him. She told me that Napoleon was vaccinated this morning. A kind stranger prepaid it with her credit card and emailed the vet a photo of the kitten so he'd know who to expect. Isn't that great?

She also mentioned to me how much her husband likes talking to me. "The lady with the short hair," he calls me. I was touched. I certainly haven't spent $100+ on shots for them. I think that in the last month I've given them $20 in total, and a can of cat food -- the flavor that my Connie girlcat had rejected. Not a great investment. I think he just likes that I treat him like an equal. We talk cats. Now we talk books. He tells me about his career aspirations. I haven't asked him how he got here -- why a well-spoken young man is begging on a street corner and sleeping with his wife in a tent -- though I'm dying to know.

Today, when I've been so worried about Hurricane Irma and my friends in Key West, cat fur works as a tonic. I'm so grateful to see and play with Napoleon, and to come home to my own two cats.

No friend of mine!

The 2017 hurricanes have such benign names: Harvey and Irma have arrived and Jose is on the way. And I've come to fear and loathe those names.

My friends in Key West have chosen to ride out Irma. I believe this is very unwise and I'm sick with worry.

Their motivation is financial. Henry insists that they are still making their honeymoon trip to see his family in Puerto Rico on the 14th* and doesn't want to "waste" money on motels and dining out. When I pointed out at that it would only be for a night or two, he argued that's not the case -- once you leave the island during an evacuation, the authorities decide when you can return. He's afraid it could be weeks, and that would result in big bills.

I countered that insurance would reimburse him, but he argued that would take months. He really misses his mother and needs to see her. Between the hurricane causing damage to his hometown in Puerto Rico and her advanced age, he feels real urgency about being with her.

I mentioned to him that I he was being crappy, to me. After all, I'm worried about Barb, whose husband just died. I'm worried about my aunt and cousin, both of whom live in Tampa and have fled the storm. I am worried about my oldest friend. I am worried about my own finances. I don't need this additional patina of worry.

He apologized, but said his mind was made up. I could hear his husband Reg in the background, not especially amused or sanguine about riding out a Category 4 storm with a generator, Spam and wine. I figured if Reg can't convince him, I certainly can't.

And so now I worry and pray. These guys are closer to me than family, and I love them very much.

* I have no confidence that the airports in Miami and Puerto Rico will be operating on the 14th, but Henry believes.

I miss him

On Tuesday and Wednesday, I looked for him. I knew he wouldn't be there, but I imagined him there on the street corners where he spent his days. Curled up, sleeping like a tiny fur shrimp amid the hubbub of morning rush hour. Or alertly chasing shadows, wandering as far as his leash would allow. Or attacking one of the cat toys donated by one of his passerby fans. Or, best of all, sitting quietly and making love eyes at me as I scratched him between his ears.

I miss little Napoleon. I am so glad I got to have a nice long chat with his human last Thursday, before the Labor Day holiday. I know that Napoleon and his people left Chicago for a job opportunity in Indiana. If they had just disappeared, without explanation or the opportunity to say goodbye, I would have been tormented.

After all, Napoleon and his humans are homeless, living out of tent. So many things could have happened to the kitten, most of them cruel. And this little doll baby brought me a lot of joy, so I'm far happier imagining him with his people living indoors in Indiana.

And so I shall consider the weekend a success

I really haven't done anything all weekend. Four days of yawning nothingness. And I feel a little guilty about that ... Like I should have done more, or at least wanted to do more. But that's not the fact of it. If I could take Tuesday off to just hang out around the house, reading and watching bad TV and farting around on the internet, I would. Gladly.

But here are some highlights of my four days:

•  I am healthy. My doctor says so, and Transamerica Insurance thinks I'm a good bet to make it at least a few more years, as they approved my application for a 20-year level-term policy. So I got that going for me.

• I remembered to rotate my mattress. When you have a foam/pillow top, you're supposed to rotate it, not flip it, four times a year. This was my autumnal rotation.

• Four for $25! Sunglasses were on sale at Kohl's! I actually got four pairs for what I expected to pay for one! Must remember this for next Labor Day, as I was told they traditionally clear out their summer stock for the new fall looks this weekend. For I love sunglasses, but I'm very hard on them -- I either break them or scratch them or leave them on the el.

•  Pat Hughes. Listening to games is such a joy because the radio voice of the Chicago Cubs is so completely awesome.

•  Hot fudge sundae. There's a tiny seasonal ice cream shop on the other side of town. I realized that summer was over and I hadn't stopped by. And so I did.

Reposted in Tribute to Jerry Lewis: 1926-2017

Saturday, September 05, 2015

I miss the sumbitch

I used to love the Jerry Lewis Labor Day Telethon. The plate spinners, the ventriloquists, the lounge singers performing "Guantanamera" ... it was a smorgasbord of tacky and I adored it. Especially Jerry himself.

I was hypnotized by the greasy hair, the tux and pinky ring. Jerry mugged and wept and insulted people. (I remember the year I heard him call a cameraman a "fag" and wondered if anyone else caught it.) He laughed at his own gauche hilarity. And he sang "You'll Never Walk Alone" to kids who will never walk at all.

Oh, and the crazy bastard raised more than $2 billion. He deserves more credit for that than he gets. He's nearly 90 now and has suffered a litany of health problems himself. Wherever he is this weekend, God bless him.

Sunday Stealing

BACK TO SCHOOL

1.  What kind of school did you attend (Big? Small? Public? Private? Specialty? One-room schoolhouse?) Public grammar school, public high school, and then the local community college for a very short time.

2. What did you wear to school (uniform? dress code? Whatever you wanted?) In grammar school, I actually had to wear a dress or skirt every day. Once I got into high school, it was jeans and t-shirts, day in/day out.

3.  How did you get to school? Grade school: walked to and fro. High school: walked home/car pool in the morning. GAWD how I hated the car pool! It was an awkward collection of girls that my mother cobbled together, based on geography, not friendships. A fucking painful way to start the day.

4.  Who was your favorite teacher? Why? When I was in junior high, we had a PE teacher we all really liked. She wasn't that much older than we were and was so easy to talk to.

5.  What was your favorite subject? Why? English or history. Because.

6.  What was your least favorite subject? Why? Math or science. Because. (School brings out the surly in me.)

7.  Did you belong to any clubs? I was on the school paper for a while ...

8.  Were you a picky reader? Not at all. Read everything I could get my hands on. Especially about Presidents Lincoln and Kennedy.

9.  What did you do in your free time? Read. Listened to records. Watched TV. Rode my bike through the forest preserve. Hung out at the zoo or the mall. Went to the movies ... a lot.

10.  Did you get good grades? I did, except when I didn't. I either got A's or C's/D's.

11.  Did you like/participate in sports? Liked? Yes. Participated? No.

12.  Did you have a boyfriend/girlfriend in high school? 


 
13.  When did you get your driver’s license? 30

14.  What kind of kid were you?  (Popular? Class clown? Shy?  A nerd?  Teacher’s pet?) Nerd

15.  Who were your heroes? Streisand. It's not possible to calculate how important she was. A powerful and unconventional woman whose value was seen and celebrated. 
 
16. Were you ever bullied? Yes. I think, unfortunately, everyone is at one time or another.

17.  Did you learn how to touch type? Yes.

18.  Who was your best friend?  (Are you still friends today?) Her name was Judy. No, we are most certainly not friends today. If you want to read about it, here's our history. I warn you, it's complicated.

19.  What is one thing you regret about high school? I don't think I regret anything. I hated it and would never go back, but not because of anything I did.

20.  What were you most proud about? It made me a better aunt. I'm sensitive to my niece and nephew and how painful adolescence can be.

Bonus:  Did you like high school?  Hell to the no. My parents' marriage was unraveling. My older sister had a breakdown that no one acknowledged (not even to this day). My favorite grandpa died. A relative molested me. That was within my family. Outside, Vietnam dragged on and then there was Watergate. All this was swirling around me, and I was supposed to care about pep squads and candystripers? PUH-LEEZE! It was during those years I clung to something that has always kept me sane -- the movies. 

There were some really great movies released when I was in high school. The Godfather, The Sting, Cabaret, Serpico, Jaws, The Way We Were, The Exorcist ... If only I could have lived all four years in the dark with a package of Twizzlers in my hand.

Stuff

This afternoon I decided to part with 18 books, 3 sweaters, a sweatshirt and 2 t-shirts. That's a box of books and a plastic bag of clothes.

And yet my home is still overflowing. It's disheartening.

Direct from my raisin-sized heart

I know this is going to make my sound like a Grinch, but I encourage everyone to think very carefully before they give to the victims of Hurricane Harvey.

After 9/11, after Katrina, we learned two things about what happens when a tragedy gets intense national attention:

1) People forget about their local charities. It's only natural, really. We each have finite resources. If you're sending $20 or $50 to the American Red Cross or some other national charity, that's money that's not staying in your neighborhood. So smaller organizations suffer, and that's unfortunate because the need for their services doesn't lessen because of a national disaster.

2) Our attention spans are short. Once the news cameras leave Houston, the donations will dry up. And that, too, is unfortunate because the victims of Harvey will continue to need help well into 2018, and beyond.

So please, make sure that when you donate to a Harvey charity, it's not the only charity you support this month. And don't forget to keep donating, even after the leaves fall and the snow comes, and you may no longer be hearing about Houston every day.

Houston Food Bank

Houston Humane Society

Saturday 9

9 to 5 (1980) 

1) This song begins with the clacking of a typewriter. Did you ever learn to touch type -- beginning with your fingers on "the home row" -- or do you hunt and peck? I was a very good touch typist, and it comes in handy now on this MacBook. Part of why I find texting so frustrating is that I can't lay my fingers across "the home row."

2) Much of the video for this song revolves around the office coffee room. Are you enjoying a beverage as you answer these 9 questions? Ice water. I'm trying to drink more water. It's a painless way to live a little healthier.

3) This week's artist, Dolly Parton, loves telling the story of how she once lost a Dolly Parton lookalike contest. What contest or sweepstakes have you entered lately? I won $2 in the Illinois State Lottery this past week!

4) Dolly is one smart blonde. Early in her career she set up a company so she could retain the publishing rights for all her songs. Two alone -- "9 to 5" and "I Will Always Love You" -- made her a multi-millionaire because they have been recorded so many times. Do you have a good head for business? No. And as retirement approaches, I wish I did.

5) Dolly is a crusader for childhood literacy and her organization, Dolly's Imagination Library, has donated more than 10 million books all over the country. What's the last book you read? The last book I finished was Kennedy and Nixon by Chris Matthews. I wasted a ton of time on a mystery I really wasn't into, and I regret it. Both spending the time and abandoning it. For some reason I always feel bad when I give up on a book (unless it sucks, and this one didn't; it just didn't hit the spot for me at this time.)

6) This weekend may offer a golden opportunity for napping and sleeping in. Do you snore? Yes. Loudly, I'm told.

7) Labor Day was introduced to celebrate the achievements of the American worker. How many different employers have you had? Ten (I think).

8) Will you be attending a Labor Day picnic or barbecue? No. I'm cocooning, and thoroughly looking forward to it.

9) Labor Day traditionally marks the beginning of the new school year. When she was a kid, Samantha was crazy for her brand new box of 96 Crayola Crayons. It even had a sharpener in the back! What do you remember about preparing to go back to school? If you're a parent with school-age kids, are they ready? I remember that late-summer shopping trip. There were two independently-owned department stores where my mom loved buying our clothes. She enjoyed those excursions more than I did. She was always very particular about our hair cuts and our clothes.

I passed my blood test!

I just got word that my cholesterol (184) and my LDL/HDL ratio (1.75) are "desirable." My other lab tests came back within the "acceptable" range. I was approved for my $50,000 life insurance policy.

I happened to have a doctor's appointment this morning. My GP was very happy that the tests were so thorough -- saving her lab the task of drawing my blood and her the time of waiting for the results. And she thinks the results are "exciting." Apparently, after reviewing these tests and the results of my colonoscopy, she believes me to be healthy.

The death of my friend Barb's husband has been on my mind. He thought he was a healthy 67-year-old with a cough and then, 11 months later, he was dead. So I'm relieved to learn that all the indicators I can't see for myself point to my being OK.

Friday 56

The Friday 56

Rules:
*Grab a book, any book.
*Turn to page 56 or 56% in your eReader
(If you have to improvise, that's ok.)
*Find any sentence, (or few, just don't spoil it)
*Post it.
    

Helter Skelter: The True Story of the Manson Murders by Vincent Bugliosi with Curt Gentry.

This true-crime classic is not a whodunnit, in that we all know who did it. And we're probably all very familiar with the gruesome nature of the IT at hand. The value of this book is the dignity it bestows upon the victims of those murdered by The Manson "Family" back in August 1969. Never maudlin but often sweet in choosing which details to include, Mr. Bugliosi makes the victims as real and memorable as the colorful perpetrators. 

Of Sharon Tate:

 

She was not a star, not yet. Her career seemed to hesitate on the edge of a breakthrough, but it could have easily remained stationary, or gone the other way.

But for the first time in her life, Sharon's ambition had slipped to second place. Her marriage and her pregnancy had become her whole life. According to those closest to her, she seemed oblivious to all else.

August Happiness Challenge -- Day 31

Rizz appreciates "lucky"

On Day 31, I was happy for a heads-up. Remember Napoleon? He's the wild-eyed little kitten who was rescued by a homeless couple. I may never see the little fella again, and today I was pleased and relieved to learn why.

His human got the offer of an apprenticeship! He can learn how to become a window washer in the Indianapolis area. He told me it takes 60 hours of training,* so he and his wife and the kitten are headed to Indiana to give that a try. He said his prospective employer understands that they are homeless and living out a tent, and has made allowances. His wife, however, is not as fortunate. A professional hairdresser licensed in Iowa, she can't very well show up to take her Illinois (or Indiana) state boards if she isn't cleaned and well groomed. So they understand the first step is for him to get this job, so they can afford a shelter that allows them to bathe thoroughly and on a regular basis.

As he related this tale, he said he couldn't believe how "lucky" he was that his prospective employer understood he was homeless. I told him, "You deserve this luck because you saved a life."

"No," he said, "Napoleon saved our lives." He told me the story of how he found the kitten in the bushes of Millennium Park, curled up beside his dead mother cat. No other littermates were in sight. The human told me how and his wife wiped the kitten's infected eyes clean with tissues and bottled water and decided to keep him. They love caring for him. This kitten has given their lives new meaning.

I know cats. Napoleon is -- right now, at least -- healthy. Friendly and fearless. When I kneel down to pet him, he climbs right up onto my lap and sometimes tries to get into my purse. I've seen him when dogs pass, and he doesn't care. This is an animal who has never known anything but affection. How can I not root for people who share their reservoir of affection with a helpless, abandoned kitten?

This month, I've become attached to this little family. I'll likely never see them again. I'm so happy that the reason is a positive turn in their fortunes, and not something horrible.

 

 *I believe he said 60 hours. A bus went by during this part of the story.


If you want to play along, just come back here (meaning to this blog, not this individual post) each day in August, looking for the Happy Cub. Every day I will try to have a post with the headline: August Happiness Challenge: Day [X]. Leave a comment and then post your own daily happiness, with AugustHappiness Challenge in the title to make it easy to find.

Proud of My Happiness Icon

That's Anthony Rizzo's happy face you've seen here every day during August. As the month comes to an end, it's time to celebrate him.

He's the Cubs All-Star first baseman, a hitting machine and a reliable performer with his glove. He made the last out in the 2016 World Series, ending our 108 year drought and delivering the championship. It makes me especially happy that he was the one to make history, because he's a stellar young man.

During the playoffs, Cub fans heard him -- when he didn't realize he was mic'd -- first apologize to an umpire and later confess to being nervous. How great for kids, especially boys, to see good manners and honest emotions embraced!

And he's a cancer survivor, who hasn't forgotten how his battle with disease affected his family.  Look what he did off the field  this week, and you'll see why he's my favorite Cub.

August Happiness Challenge -- Day 30

Rizz likes money

On Day 30, the gesture counted. My boss called my art director and me in to his office and closed the door. He told us that he spoke to our department head about getting us raises before year-end.

While I would desperately love to see a little more in each paycheck, I'm not counting on it happening. Instead, I'm going to concentrate on my boss extending himself and being supportive. He isn't always. It was nice to hear.

If you want to play along, just come back here (meaning to this blog, not this individual post) each day in August, looking for the Happy Cub. Every day I will try to have a post with the headline: August Happiness Challenge: Day [X]. Leave a comment and then post your own daily happiness, with AugustHappiness Challenge in the title to make it easy to find.

WWW.WEDNESDAY

WWW. WEDNESDAY asks three questions to prompt you to speak bookishly. To participate, and to see how other book lovers responded, click here. 

1. What are you currently reading? Helter Skelter, The True Story of the Manson Murders by Vincent Bugliosi. I don't recall learning about Charles Manson. He's just always been part of our collective consciousness. An ugly, evil part, but his presence has been ongoing for 48 years. People who weren't born in 1969 are familiar with what he did.

Yet there's a great deal about his crimes that I never knew. I trust Bugliosi's version of these events. First of all, he prosecuted Manson back in the day. If that doesn't give him cred, what does? And secondly, I really appreciated his book about the JFK assassination, Reclaiming History. I knew from that massive tome that this author could handle graphic material without sensationalizing it.

A prosecutor at heart, Bugliosi is all about justice for the victims. And so I've learned a great deal about those murdered back in the summer of 1969. For example, Abigail Folger, the coffee heiress whose body was left on sprawled on the front lawn, was so much more than a rich party girl. She worked with the underprivileged and battled depression, in no small part because she felt that society's ills were so big that she could never do enough to cure them. "The suffering gets under my skin," she said. In therapy to get control of her emotions and her life, she was seriously thinking of breaking up and breaking away from her boyfriend, Roman Polanski's friend, Wojciech Frykowski. If only she'd taken that decisive action a week, or even a day, earlier, perhaps she wouldn't have died with Frykowski at Sharon Tate's home. And Rosemary LaBianca, who was murdered the next night, was a woman of substance whose story is often lost. I've learned that after escaping a bad marriage, she started a dress shop that grew into a boutique. Women entrepreneurs were not that common in the late 1950s, but her independent business was successful enough to support her two children, and then she made savvy investments with the rest, growing her portfolio until she was a self-made millionaire. She married Leno LaBianca, a man who was very good to her and her children. Instead of being able to enjoy the happy ending she worked for, she was slaughtered in her own home.

Bugliosi doesn't let these two women remain footnotes in the "Sharon Tate murders." He doesn't allow them to be overshadowed by The Manson Family. And for that reason, I really applaud this book. 

2. What did you recently finish reading? Mrs. Jeffries Learns the Trade by Emily Brightwell. OK, I didn't finish this book. I merely put it down. I'm sad to report it didn't really engage me, and I always feel guilty when I abandon a book.
 

I don't know why it didn't hold me. The author creates a lovely Victorian atmosphere (imagine Jessica Fletcher at Downton Abbey) and the interplay between the two main characters -- Scotland Yard's Inspector Witherspoon and his housekeeper, Mrs. Jeffries -- is sweet. But the mystery at heart of the story just didn't grab me. Every time I picked up the book and put it in my bag, I inwardly groaned a little, thinking of my TBR pile and all the other books vying for my attention.

Oh well. This volume is a three-story anthology. Perhaps after time passes, I'll pick it up again and give mystery #2 a shot.

3.  What will you read next? Definitely something light! As completely as I'm drawn into Helter Skelter, I'm going to need a break from ugly reality when I'm done.