My friend is coming back!

Since my sad and frustrated post below, Henry has called me twice. First to apologize, then to just to say hi. "Just me, checking on you," was the message he left. The same message that he left me for decades, before his accident.

I think something I said got through. Saturday night, I lost my temper with him. As our marathon phone call entered its second hour, I snapped: "Do you know you have never once asked me how I am?" He found this sobering. He apologized that night, and then again on Monday. On Tuesday, he called just to see how I am.

Since his life threatening accident and his brain injury, he's been staggeringly self-centered. I understand that it's to be expected, but it's jarring because it's not him. My Henry is sensitive and thoughtful. This Henry has been thin-skinned and self-absorbed.

But, since we argued Saturday night, he's been more thoughtful toward me and has acknowledged -- for the first time -- how difficult this ordeal has been for his husband, Reg. I wish he would say it to Reg and not to me, but this is a start.

I know it's likely one step/two steps back on the road to recovery. It's only been two and a half months and the doctors warned us it could take six months or more.

I appreciate what a privilege it is that Henry turns to me. He is frightened, his world is in turmoil, and he trusts me. I treasure that. But I've also been confused and frightened myself, wondering how to best respond to him and terrified I'll make a mistake and retard his progress.

These last two days have been a joy and a relief.

Wasted weekend

I had a weekend with nothing on my calendar. I had looked forward to doing a lot of housework ... to accomplishing something. Anything! And none of it happened.

I slipped on some mud Thursday night. My left foot twisted around in my boot. The result was a bruise on the top of my foot and it made it very painful for me to bend my toes. Trust me, you can't walk without bending your toes. It was stupid. It was embarrassing. It left me filled with self loathing -- and over-the-counter painkillers.

Saturday I was not at my best. My energy did not match my ambition. I got up early, went to the vet and picked up Reynaldo's prescription food, took myself out to breakfast and did a little grocery shopping. I started to lag and promised myself a nap. After all, I was a little dopey and walking had been difficult -- my calves began to hurt as I walked differently to compensate for the toes on my left foot. I made a bargain with myself: I'd allow myself a nap Saturday afternoon if I then spent Saturday night doing laundry.

Then Henry called. He was miserable about ... everything. Apparently he was mad at his coworkers for the way they treated him during his seizure on Thursday afternoon. He was mad at Reg for not asking the right questions at the hospital.

Whoa! I told Henry he has to get over this being mad at Reg bullshit. Henry is responsible for Henry.

"But he is my husband! He is my partner!"

I pointed out that I don't have a husband. I don't have a partner. I am responsible for my own care, just as Henry is responsible for his. It was one thing immediately after the accident, when he was unconscious. But now? I asked him if he knew what drugs he was taking and what they are for. He does not. Reg puts them in little baggies for him marked "AM" and "PM."

I told him if he doesn't want to be "treated like a child," which he complains of often, he has to stop acting like one. Get the pill bottles or, better yet, the print outs attached to the bags by the pharmacy. Research what you are taking, the interactions and the side effects. Stop blaming Reg and educate yourself!

I know I'm right, but I began to feel like I was beating him up. So I asked him why they thought he had a seizure. "It was my brain recovering from the accident."

"So you did have a brain injury of some sort?" This was crucial. Henry has always maintained that he does not have TBI. 

"No. It was the shock of the accident."

Sigh. I told Henry that does not make sense. That people who received "a shock" do not have seizures 70 days later. I told him I was not mad at him, I was not accusing him of anything, and that I doubted his doctors were telling him the truth.

This, of course, was a lie. But I didn't want him to feel like I wasn't on his side. So I painted his doctors as the bad guys.

We went round and round about semantics. I thought it was revealing that Henry substituted "neurological" with "mental." Clearly, he worries about being crazy. My heart breaks for him. I know how vulnerable he must feel, how embattled. I tried another tack.

I told him that, while I don't want him to divorce Reg and leave Key West, I want him to be able to. I want him to have the strength and ability to do whatever he decides is right, and he can't do that if he isn't well. He can't get well if he doesn't know what's wrong.

We continued spinning round and round. And round and round. It was dizzying and exhausting. Finally, I snapped.

"Do you know you have never once asked me how I am?" I asked. "Reg is mean. Your coworkers are mean. The hospital was mean. All you, Henry! How long is our relationship going to be all about you? I'm in this, too!"

He surprised me. He went from angry and self-righteous to sweet. "I am sorry. That is true. I am sorry. I love you."

We talked about my foot. He wondered if one of those blue boots -- like the one he wears -- wouldn't help because it would immobilize and protect my toes. We talked about our New Year's celebrations, about how I didn't want to go to Joanna's and he didn't want to go to the dinner Reg accepted for him, and yet we each had a good time, after all.

 He was my sweet Henry again. He's still in there somewhere.

After 2.5 hours of this, I was too tired for laundry. I was too tired to think. I was in bed for the night by 9:30.  Sunday I felt a little better, but still run down. All I managed to accomplish today was laundry and new laces for my tennies. I even fell asleep during The Golden Globes!

I have to learn how to better deal with Henry. I am letting it deplete me. I'm no good to him if I get short tempered and angry. I'm no good to myself when I'm running on empty

Saturday 9

Saturday 9: You Make Me Feel Brand New (1974)
 
Unfamiliar with this week's tune? Hear it here.

Welcome to the first Saturday 9 of 2019!

1) As 2019 kicks off, what are your hopes for the brand new year? I want to remember to be grateful. I spend so much time wondering and worrying about what should be or what was that I lose sight and forget my blessings.

2) Just because an item isn't brand new doesn't mean it isn't valuable. Have you scored any fabulous finds at a second hand store or website? I found this belted, hooded trench. It retailed for $178 at Nordstrom (of course, mine isn't new) and I only paid $14. Yea! I didn't get to wear it much this past autumn because the weather went from summer to winter without much fall. But spring will be here, and this beautifully crafted coat is waiting.

3) This song is sung by The Stylistics, a group from Philadelphia. Have you ever been to Philly? Yes. I was in a long-distance love affair and spent a great deal of time there. I love some of the Welsh town names: Bala Cynwyd, Bryn Mawr, Narberth.

4) This song was co-written by Thom Bell, a Philadelphia-based musician/producer who was born in Kingston, Jamaica. The average daily temp in Kingston in January is 87º. Do you have plans to get away this winter and go somewhere warm? I just got back from somewhere warm. I spent Christmas in Key West.

5) The Stylistics took their choreography very seriously. As you can see from the video, they even carefully synchronized their hand movements. Do you use your hands much when you talk? Not too much. I do gesture at my computer screen, though. When a page takes too long to load, I find myself encouraging it to speed up.

6) The lyrics tell us that the singer is grateful for a friend who will walk with him along a path that "sometimes bends." Looking back on 2018, tell us about a time that life's path took a bend you didn't quite expect. Since my friend Henry's accident, all of us who love him have been traveling a long, confusing and unexpected path. He is recovering from traumatic brain injury and isn't always quite himself. We long to have him back! But it's going to take time.

7) In 1974, when this song was popular, Chicago's Sears Tower opened and was for years the world's tallest building. Its elevators can carry you to the 103rd floor in approximately a minute. When were you last on an elevator? I hurt my foot, so I take elevators whenever I can. Thank goodness we have one right in my condo building.

8) Also in 1974, the 55 mph speed limit was imposed nationwide. When you drive, are you careful to stay within the speed limit? Or do you have a led foot? I don't drive.

9) Random question -- It's time to pose for your Saturday 9 yearbook picture. Will you show us your right profile, your left profile, or will you look directly into the camera? Oh, please, NO profile! Let's not highlight my plethora of chins. I'd prefer to look directly into the camera.

Epilepsy?

Henry was rushed to the hospital this afternoon. He was working at the library and suddenly became disoriented and incoherent. His coworkers first called 911, then Reg.

Henry spent five hours enduring tests. He and Reg left the hospital with no answers, but a lot of drugs. My friend went to sleep tonight in his own bed, but terrified. He has trouble focusing (mentally, not visually) and doesn't understand what is happening to him.

The only bright spot in all this is that Henry recognized that Reg was there for him. He took comfort in the support of his husband. I hope this indicated a turning point in the healing of their relationship.

It is not uncommon for victims of TBI to develop epilepsy. That is something that has to be considered. Alcohol exacerbates this. When I was in Key West for Christmas, I refused to drink with Henry. He either didn't notice by abstinence or didn't care: he drank each day and one afternoon I saw him down three glasses of wine in three hours.

I did not argue with Henry about his drinking. I could see no point. I was only down there for five days. Who would police him the other 360 days? He has to decide to stop drinking on his own. Since he will not admit he has a brain injury, it's not likely that he will own up to his alcohol problem.

I love my friend. He is a special person -- kind, smart and fundamentally good. I wish I knew what 2019 holds for him. I wish I could protect him from what I fear will be a perilous journey as he recovers.

Six two and even, over and out

Between the ages of 15 and 30, Judy and I were best friends. She literally broke my heart, as only a close friend can. She wasn't easy to be friends with, but I worked at it. I believed in her talent, I was dazzled by her smarts. She repaid my loyalty with cruelty. It hurt, it was unfair, it made me question my judgement about people and who to trust. If you're interested in what happened, click here.

Ten years ago, out of the blue, she reached out to me on Facebook. I didn't respond. From what I'd seen on social media, she was still self-absorbed. When I thought about Judy, a song from the 1970s popped into my head, "Haven't Got Time for the Pain." Life sends enough drama our way without us creating melodrama. I decided that was the lesson she was sent to me to teach. I'd learned it. Time to move on.

Then over Christmas, something big happened. You know how you click on something and then you click something else? Eventually I stumbled on Judy's Facebook page and discovered that she now has cancer. She is broke and is forced to sell off her personal belongings to pay her bills: Her late father's ring and tie clasp; her grandmother's silver set; a ring that I remembered on her hand when we were in her room in her parents' house, where she taught me how to play canasta. It left me overwhelmingly sad.

I had a powerful impulse to help. I could buy something from her online "shop." I could contribute to her Gofundme page (which has been up for three years and has netted her $7000; Henry's has been up for 2 months and has $11,000 in it). But as I read the fine print, I realized I couldn't do it anonymously. Something told me that I wanted to -- needed to -- keep my contribution anonymous. Judy = drama. I was afraid of being sucked in.

I mentioned all this to my friend Kathleen. I was surprised by her vehemence. She knew how Judy had hurt me. She said the past should stay in the past. She maintained that if someone is alone in the world with no one to help, there's a reason for it, and I was likely not the only one Judy had screwed over the years. Kathleen mentioned the homeless young man she met on her way to the restaurant. He warned her not to park there, in case she'd missed the no parking sign (she had). "If you want to help someone, help him and not that twat." And Kathleen never uses vulgarity!

I understood the wisdom in what Kathleen said, but I just couldn't shake the need to help Judy. She was a big part of my growing up, and I should honor that. It's Christmastime, and I should honor that. I really do try to live as Christ wants me to.

I explained the situation to a coworker, who placed an order on my behalf but in her name. I bought this agate stone necklace from Judy's online store.  It cost me $25, including shipping and handling, and Judy will not see my name attached.

When it arrives, I will say a prayer for her every time I put it on.

But now I have no reason to continue cyber checking on Judy. I have helped her while still protecting me.

OneWord for 2019: Grateful

So many people around me are struggling. I am not as happy, as healthy or as worry free as I'd like, but I'm fine. While I don't mean to settle, sometimes "good enough" is, indeed, good enough and I should stop and realize that I'm OK. And be grateful that I am OK.

Isn't it nice ...

… when things work out better than you thought they would?

I didn't want to go to Joanna's New Year's open house. I was pretty sure I wouldn't know anyone, and the friends of hers I'd met before intimidated me. Sophisticated and learned about things I know nothing* about -- like architecture and classical music.

But the party meant a great deal to her. First, because she wanted to use the occasion to introduce me to Tony, the man with whom she'd been carrying on a long-distance romance. Then because on 12/23, they broke up. Now, as of last night, they had reached a tentative reconciliation. With all of this emotional tumult, she wanted me there.

So I went. I wore my nicest sweater and boots, but lost an earring on the el so I felt a little worse dressed, a little more self-conscious.

The party was already in full swing when I arrived. The food was wonderful, a menu based on what her mom prepared for the family each New Year's Day -- fish sticks, ham, cornbread and black-eyed peas. One of her girlfriends, Nancy, remembered me but didn't seem to regard me as a bumpkin. And there were men there. Tony -- the object of her affections and a little full of himself -- and two other men whose names escape me now. But we talked about politics (national and statewide) and current movies (Vice) and as the afternoon progressed, we all talked about the pluses and minuses of data mining. I know all that stuff! I'm good at all that stuff!

As I was packing up to leave, Joanna followed me into the bedroom and filled me in, briefly, on other areas of her life that seem to be veering off the rails. I appreciate what an act of courage going through with the party was, what a gesture of faith in the future it represented for her. She hugged me a lot and thanked me repeatedly for coming.

Having me there meant something to her. Two hours of my life was really a small expense. (Especially when you factor in how good the food was!) And I wasn't the social nothing I thought I'd be.

It made me feel good about 2019, too.

*and, to be honest, care nothing

She better treat him right

My favorite Cub, Anthony Rizzo, got married Saturday. They are off to Zanzibar for their honeymoon.

I really would like to hug him. He's a great ball player, a great role model, and I want his happiness so much.

Conflicted

Christian Bale is terrific as Dick Cheney in Vice. He completely disappears into the role. You forget that you're watching the actor who was once Batman and the sad/bad brother in The Fighter. He's got the voice, the minimal hand gestures, the stillness that can seem avuncular and/or deliberative.

Amy Adams is also good (isn't she always?) as Lynne Cheney. As an old-school feminist, I've always found Mrs. Cheney's public persona appalling, and this movie does nothing to change that.

Which is rather the problem I had with it.

Vice presents Cheney as evil. Non-ideological, power hungry, malevolent. Except for loving his lesbian daughter -- and he lets her down in the third act -- he is completely without redeeming qualities. In that way, the screenplay lets Bale down. He is valiantly trying to play Snidely Whiplash as a three-dimensional person.

Also, the movie makes the staggering assertion that Lynne Cheney's father murdered her mother. Or, to be precise, that Lynne and Dick Cheney believe that her father murdered her mother. I've done some internet searches and can find nothing to back this up.

The movie is obviously a cautionary tale for the Age of Trump. I get it. If you are even a casual reader of this blog, you know where my heart and my politics are in these matters.

But I worry about history. I've seen enough movies and miniseries about the Kennedys to know how myths can take hold ... and sully and obscure the truth.

So despite the performances, I'm sorry I paid to see Vice.

Sunday Stealing

Strawberry Lollipop Kisses

1. Are flowers a nice gift to give someone? Yes. But you have to take their circumstances into account. Do they have allergies that flowers could irritate? Do they have a cat (like mine) who will view a floral bouquet as a salad bar?

2. Do you wear any jewelry? I wear a ring on my left hand, a watch on my left wrist, earrings and a necklace.

 

3. Have you ever laid in a field of flowers? No.

4. Do you like tea? Hot tea, yes. Iced tea, no.

 
5. What would you do with a million dollars? Before or after taxes? I want to know how much I'm playing with before I start fantasizing.

 

6. What word do you have trouble saying? "Halcyon."

 

7. Favorite fairytale? Rapunzel is the first that springs to mind.

 

8. Do you sleep with stuffed animals? Nope. But frequently this real one curls up with me.

Reynaldo

9. Do you prefer the city or the country? City

10. Are you a big fan of makeup? Yes

11. Favorite drink? Coca Cola

12. What’s the longest amount of time you’ve stayed awake? 17 or 18 hours.

13. Have you ever traveled outside of your country? Yes

 

14. Do you like spring? Yes, because it means BASEBALL!

 

15. Lipstick or lipgloss? Chapstick

 

16. Favorite color? Cubbie blue. Especially when worn by Anthony Rizzo. The Cub first baseman reportedly got married this weekend.

17. Do you like to decorate? Not especially.

 

18. Do you ever go barefoot when you’re outside? I have.

Christmas Eve in Key West

 
19. Are aliens real? Today, our sermon was delivered by a Romanian immigrant. He looked very real to me.

 

20. Does you zodiac sign fit your personality? According to astrology.com, a Sagittarius woman is "unfussy and liberated" and "never really seem able to save." That's true. It also says that men who have loved me "pine" after me after I'm gone. If that's true, they're very good at hiding it.

 

21.Favorite sea animal? Manatee

 

22. Are you a nice person? I try.

 

23. Favorite word? "Gubernatorial." It's just fun to say.

 

24. Night or day? You are the one. Only you beneath the moon or under the sun ...

25. What would make you happy right now? The million dollars you mentioned in #5.

 

More than Henry

Henry's accident last October was such a big event that it's elbowed everything else out of the way. When Henry was still in the hospital, I was obsessed with raising money for his care. I relentlessly pressured all my friends to contribute to his Gofundme page. I sent giftcards and postage stamps (since I knew Reg wouldn't have time to go to the post office). It was all I could do, since Henry was in a coma and Reg was incommunicado.

Once Henry got out of the hospital and began calling all the time, I admit he has exhausted me. It was an adjustment that I'm still making -- he sounds like Henry, he has all Henry's memories, but he's not yet the same Henry.

I have allowed this to distract me from my other friends, and that's not right. Women I care about will be ringing in 2019 in heartache, and I must pay greater attention.

Joanna has been in a long-distance romance with the brother of her neighbor. He's semi-retired and lives on a sailboat in Panama. He came in for Christmas and she's been eager for me to meet him. She's also been excitedly planning a New Year's Day open house, themed to her New Orleans girlhood.

She texted me often when I was in Key West, wishing me a Merry Christmas and asking, "When will you be home, Darlin'?" Turns out they had a blow up on the Sunday before Christmas. "His loss," she texted bravely. But she is upset and it's manifesting itself by her removing both him and her neighbor from the guest list for the open house.

I wasn't going to attend the open house. Since I got home from Key West I've been seriously cocooning. Plus, Joanna and her friends can be intimidating. She brought a handful of them to one of our movie meetups and they talk about architecture and classical music and things I know nothing about. Not to mention that they're all very put together, and I have two new pimples on my chin.

But she's only invited 20 people. Not everyone is going to show up. This party is important to her and much planning has gone into it. So I'm heading over there on New Year's Day. Because she needs my support right now. I can do this.

My oldest friend is depressed again. Maybe it's been continual. She's been rather remote since spring. She has abandoned Facebook, seldom emails, doesn't want to talk on the phone. I thought that getting confirmation that she's cancer free would perk her up, but it hasn't.

I need to nurture our connection. I've been asking her questions -- via text -- about The Godfather (one of her passions). I got an EOB from my insurance company about my recent trip to Urgent Care that I'll run by her. I can figure it out on my own, but it won't cost me anything to acknowledge that this is something she's good at.

It's time for me to step it up and extend myself a bit more.

Saturday 9

Saturday 9: Winter Wonderland (1968)

1) This is an unconventional take on an old familiar song. Over the holidays, do you prefer traditional carols? Or do you like to mix it up with with more contemporary fare? I like Christmas music, everything from Frank Sinatra to Judy Garland to George Michael to Sha Na Na. What I don't like is choirs. They sound ponderous and elite to me.

 
2) Now that Christmas is behind us, are you enjoying a relaxing week? Or do you have socializing/celebrating/chores to do? I am working hard at being lazy.

 
3) Winter is a time for cocooning. What book or movie did you enjoy in 2018 that you would recommend to your fellow Saturday 9-ers? The Astonishing Thing by Sandi Ward is a sweet, slim volume. It's the story of a family in turmoil as told by their cat, Boo. It's not at all saccharine, because cats are, after all, edgy creatures. When the book was over, I found myself wondering what had ultimately happened to the characters.

 
4)  Looking back on the past year, what was one of your happiest moments? I enjoyed visiting my nephew, the newly-minted freshman at his dorm in western Illinois. We had a good time, and I was thrilled to see how much he enjoys life on campus.

5)  What was the smartest thing you did all this past year? Finally finished my bathroom renovation. It makes me happy every time I enter the room.

 
6)  As 2018 comes to a close, what are you most grateful for? That Henry is healing after his life-threatening accident.

 
7) This week's featured artist is Herb Alpert. Because of the style he popularized and the name of his band, people assume he's Hispanic. Yet his parents were Jewish immigrants from Romania. What's something we'd be surprised to learn about you? I read slowly. I also eat slowly. I don't know why, as I enjoy both activities. Maybe I do them slowly because I enjoy them. Anyway, it takes me longer to finish a book or a meal than it takes my friends.

 
8) He performed an instrumental version of "The Star Spangled Banner" at Super Bowl XXII. How did your favorite sports teams do in 2018? My Chicago Cubs have made it to the post-season for the last four years in a row. In my entire long life of Cub love, I've never had the pleasure of watching a team as good as this one. It feels positively luxurious.

 
 

 

9) Random question: When did you last check your social media feed? I just checked Facebook before I began answering these questions.

Not as good as the original ...

... but then, how could it be? After all, Mary Poppins was practically perfect in every way.

Mary Poppins Returns is fine. Emily Blunt can't sing especially well, but she moves and speaks like Mary would. Lin-Manuel Miranda is fantastic. He sings and dances well enough for everyone ... in the world. Yes, Dick Van Dyke has a cameo, and if it doesn't touch you there's something wrong with you.

BUT the actor who plays grown-up Michael just got on my nerves. Ben Whishaw plays a weak, overwhelmed man, on the verge of losing everything and apparently heedless of the impact this will have on his three children. Whereas the original Mr. Banks was well meaning but work obsessed, the dad in Mary Poppins Returns is almost clinically depressed, wrestling with the loss of his wife and his dreams and the family home.

None of the songs is particularly memorable.

I'm not sorry I saw it. I genuinely enjoyed some parts. But I was a little disappointed and would have been just as happy to see it on video. EXCEPT that the audience applauded when Dick Van Dyke appeared as Mr. Dawes. I would have missed hearing how welcome he was.

Look! I'm Nature Girl!

In the decades that I've been going to Key West, I have never visited The Butterfly and Nature Conservatory. I don't know why, really. Just never got around to it. Well, this year, on Christmas Day, I righted that wrong.

As soon as I entered, a butterfly landed on me! It was so cool. I think it was my Cubs t-shirt. Even butterflies want to go to The Friendly Confines.

Here's a butterfly having Christmas dinner. They are very still as they eat, sucking the fruit juices in through their proboscises.

There are two in this shot. Can you spot them?

My favorite picture. Pretty and peaceful.

The Conservatory is more then butterflies. There are also turtles and these two: Rhett and Scarlett.

My first stop after the Conservatory was Margaritaville. This City Mouse can only take so much nature!

Christmas Eve at the Beach

I was at the southernmost beach in the continental United States, wiggling my toes in the sand and surf and saying hello to The Sandman.

Christmas on the Road

Christmas comes but once a year, and I couldn't let Henry's accident spoil it. I went out of my way to appreciate the decorations in the airports and brought some holiday cheer with me for my hotel room.

Overhead at O'Hare

Was this Christmas, or The Beatles, greeting me in Miami?

Santa jingling on my hotel room doorknob

Cubs ornament on wicker dresser

Tiny nativity on my nightstand

62% Merry

Three and a half of my five days in Key West were fine. And that means they were very good. For me and for Henry.

In October, he was in a terrible crash that shattered his ankle and left him with a traumatic brain injury. He nearly died and was in a coma for two weeks, On the one hand, his recovery has been miraculous. His memory is in tact. His motor skills are fine. His ankle has been rebuilt. But he is still not well. Brain injuries take a long time to heal completely. He is still on a cocktail of medications and he still drinks too much -- at least two or three drinks a day. All this combined can leave him moody and erratic.

Day One: His birthday. He was waiting for me in the airport Saturday evening. What a sight for sore eyes! He looks the same. His hair is longer, since getting to the barber shop is not a priority, but it looks good. He and Reg had a little tempest over where we'd go for his birthday dinner. Once we settled on Italian, everything was fine. We all chatted amiably, everyone seemed happy. I was in my hotel room before 10:00 PM, but that's OK. It had been a long day of travel and emotionally fraught -- I hate flying to begin with and was worried about my reunion with Henry and Reg. It was good to get to bed, feeling the dinner had been a success.

Day Two: A movie and the Royals. I took an Uber to their home and visited with Henry and the dogs while Reg slept. (He's working very strange hours around the holidays.) I was happy to see how involved Henry was with "the fur circus." Initially, after his accident, his lack of concern for the dogs he'd always doted on worried me. I'm happy to report he's old self again when dealing with "the puppies."

He was watching a PBS special about Queen Victoria when I arrived, so I opined about reports that Meghan and Kate are not getting along. He became snarky with me. "Who cares?" Well, I do, obviously, I replied. And then I said, "I suppose Royals are only interesting when they're in period garb?" He laughed and we were fine. Here's the thing -- I was an invited guest in his home and he's not a child. He can't be a jerk towards me. I deserve better than that (everyone does) and while I will make allowances for his condition, I won't infantalize him.

We had pizza and watched a movie. We laughed a lot. It felt comfortable. I am sorry that he hates being touched because I just couldn't help myself -- I did hug him frequently. It was so good to see him so well again!

Day Three: A late lunch and tall tales. Christmas Eve. I felt bad that I couldn't go to church, but it just wasn't logistically possible. And I know that being there for my friends was a way of honoring Jesus, so I made peace with it. We got along fine, and after our meal, Reg joined us and we laughed a lot. But I could see Henry was getting tired. He was a bit like a key wound toy, winding down and getting slower somehow. He snapped at Reg, "Why are you looking at me as though I have two heads?" and he said some things to me that were just batshit crazy. He wasn't lying exactly. I believe he was completely sincere in everything he said. I just don't see how these odd things could have happened. I didn't confront him. I mean, why? He had a brain injury and he's doing the best he can, and these silly flights of fancy don't really matter.

I do worry about him at work, though. Does he say wacky things to his coworkers? Are they able to chalk it up to the brain injury and meds? I would hate for him to be doing damage to himself professionally through no fault of his own.

Day Four: "Don't be a dick." Christmas Day. Our only really bad day. There had been drama about whether to eat out or cook in. I told both Henry and Reg, over and over, that I didn't care, that the important thing was that we three were together. They decided we should eat out. OK, which restaurant? Back to Day One. Guys! I don't live here! This is your turf, not mine!

Ironically, we ended up at my favorite little Key West restaurant, Duffy's. It's not haute cuisine, but I've never had a bad dish there. I was happy, but it was definitely a compromise choice for them.

I'd been so excited about my gift for Henry: a Frida Kahlo tshirt with "Viva la Vida" emblazoned across the front. He loves Frida, the message was positive, and I was going to tell him that I hoped that he could turn his accident into art the way she did hers.

He took the package from me and said, "Oh, a shirt," before he even opened it. Then he held it up and said, "Who is this supposed to be?" He knew it was Frida Kahlo. The tshirt designer just didn't include her unibrow.

"Don't be a dick," I said. I told him how happy I'd been with my find, how I looked forward to presenting it to him and making a connection between his writing and her art. "But you're not going to let me have that Christmas joy, are you?" He literally just shrugged. He never thanked me for the gift.

I asked both Reg and Henry how their families were this Christmas. Reg was going to call his parents Christmas night so they could open their presents "together" over the phone and over the miles. Henry said he wasn't calling his mother. He hadn't called her on his birthday, either, as was their custom. He just didn't feel like having "the same conversations every year." Wow. So I knew I wasn't the only one getting Henry's "dick treatment" on Christmas.

Strangely enough, the dinner turned around when we started discussing the Robert Blake 2005 murder case. I don't remember how we got on the subject, but I recalled a lot about it and Henry was really quite animated when we were talking about it. Not your typical Christmas fare, I know, but then this hadn't been our typical Christmas!

Day Five: Silver bird. I told both Henry and Reg that, if I needed to get myself to the airport, I was more than capable of doing so. I'm a grown up, I enjoy traveling alone, it will be fine. No, they both said they wanted to say goodbye.

I'm happy to report that Henry was wearing the Frida shirt! "So you do like my present!" I exclaimed. He just shrugged. But he was wearing it. And he told me that he looked online to see what "Viva la Vida" meant in Frida lore. This meant a lot to me.

He was pretty silent at breakfast, nursing his bloody mary. Reg and I picked up the conversational slack. As I was boarding the plane, Reg held me tight and didn't want to let me go. It helped him to have me there. It was good for Henry to have someone other than Reg to talk to and it was good for Reg to have someone see, firsthand, what goes on with Henry on a day-to-day basis.

Henry is trying. Henry is healing. His accident exhausted him, depleted him. But he's working at getting well. I just hope that next year, he will be even better and stronger, and more of his sweet old self.

Saturday 9

Saturday 9: Happy Holidays! (from the archives) 

1. Sam loved giving her annual wish list to Santa. Yet some children are reluctant to climb into Jolly Old St. Nick's lap. Did you enjoy the tradition or were you shy? Or did you by pass it altogether -- either because you wrote him a letter or because your family didn't celebrate Christmas?  I would have preferred to write a letter. I felt I could have been far more specific for Santa by copying out page numbers from the Sears Christmas Catalog. But my mom got a kick out of seeing us with Santa, so that's what we did.

2. Are you currently on the Naughty or Nice list? How did you get there? I've been pretty nice this year. I've done good work and tried to be a good friend.

3. Did you ship any gifts to friends and family this year? If so, which one traveled the farthest? I sent this book about the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Museum to my oldest friend in California. When she lived in Chicagoland, she enjoyed our trips to Springfield to see Abe so I'm sure it will make her happy. This slim volume traveled about 1,940 miles, courtesy of the USPS.

4. Did you buy yourself a gift this year? I gave myself a new pair of glasses. New prescription, blue frames. Interestingly, my prescription is a little weaker this time than it was in 2016. It surprised me, but the eye doctor says that's not unusual.

5. What's your favorite holiday-themed movie? Have you seen it yet this year? My favorite is Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol. I haven't seen it yet this year. I may bring it along with me when I leave town. Maybe I can watch it when I'm waiting around to change planes.

6. Thinking of movies, Christmas is lucrative for Hollywood. Have you ever gone to a movie theater on Christmas Day? No.

7. Have you ever suffered an embarrassing moment at the company Christmas party? No.

8. What's your favorite beverage in cold weather? This year, I've enjoyed Rumchata.

9. Share a memory from last Christmas. Last year, during the Christmas Eve service, I

started to cry. I was overwhelmed with sadness and worry about Napoleon the Cat and his homeless humans, Caleb and Randi. Chicago winters can be brutal and I knew they were trying to get by in their tent. This year, I'm happy to report that they have made it off the streets and sleep indoors in a makeshift studio apartment above a garage. Of course, the problem of homelessness persists and people still need our help. Christmas is a good time to keep them in our prayers and maybe do something more tangible to make their holidays brighter.

Enjoy your holidays, Everyone!