Saturday 9

Saturday 9: Turn Me Loose (1959)

1) In this song, Fabian sings he has change in his pocket. Every evening, Sam puts her change in the piggy bank on her kitchen counter. Do you do anything special with your coins? Or do they just jingle/jangle in your wallet or pocket until you spend them? I am obsessed with quarters. I collect them in the Hofbrauhass beer stein I got in Munich decades ago. Then I use them downstairs in the coin-operated washer/dryer.


2) Fabian got his start because his neighbor in Philadelphia owned a record label and thought 14-year-old Fabian had the looks to be a teen idol. Tell us about a time recently when you were in the right place at the right time. I'm sorry, but I've got nothing for this one.

3) His record label paid Fabian $30 week to study singing after school. What jobs/chores did you have when you were in high school? Did they prepare you for your eventual career? Mostly I spent my high school years babysitting. Since the kids went to sleep early, I spent most of the time drinking pop, eating potato chips and watching old movies. Sadly, I have yet to find a job where soda/salty snack consumption and a love of MGM musicals is rewarded.

4) In 1959 he appeared on the cover of now-defunct magazines like Teen Screen and Dig. Who and what did you read about when you were a teenager? Mademoiselle was a favorite. It was like Glamour, but promoted a more affordable lifestyle to a younger audience. It also regularly printed book excerpts and short stories by very good writers. Alas, it is no more.

5) In the 1960s he moved from singing to acting. In 1965 he appeared in Ten Little Indians, a screen adaptation of an Agatha Christie mystery. Have you ever read an Agatha Christie book? I just discovered her comparatively recently. Her stories can be a little predictable but they're fun. And I forgive Ms. Christie for being formulaic since she's the one who developed the formula. What a crafty old girl she was!

6) In 1973, in an attempt to jumpstart his career, he appeared nude in Playgirl magazine. By the time it hit the newsstands, he regretted it.  Tell us about a time you were very embarrassed. This was like 100 years ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday. It was lunchtime and I was enjoying the sun by walking across a very crowded plaza. I spotted a guy I knew -- and was crushing on -- and called out to him. At that very moment, the wind caught my skirt and lifted it, a la Marilyn. So it looked like I was flashing him. Smooth, Gal. Very smooth.

7) In 1959, when this song was popular, most women wore nylons on a daily basis and the average price per pair was $1. What socks or leg wear -- if any -- do you have on right now? I'm barefootin'.

 

8) 1959 also saw the premiere of The Twilight Zone on CBS. 58 years later, you can still see the show in reruns. Are you a fan? Oh, yes. My favorite is about a young woman named Jan. Her brilliant but reclusive parents live shut away from the rest of the world, tended by a household of robots of their own creation. Jan is lively and pretty and wants to go out and have fun and meet people her own age but her parents forbid it. Eventually Jan begins to suspect the reason for all the isolation and secrecy ... and why aren't there any photos of her as a baby in the family album ... and why doesn't she have any childhood memories? When she gets that she's a robot, too, she gets all balky and they have no choice but to dismantle her. Though intellectually they understand she is an it with no more feelings than a vacuum cleaner, this childless couple has come to love Jan and they can't bear to throw her away. So they reprogram her as their maid. And, I guess, they all live happily ever after. As happily as people do in The Twilight Zone.

 
9) Random Question: While we're talking about TV ... Sam finds it disturbing that her brother claims he's seen every episode of Bad Blood, a show devoted to family members who have murdered their relatives. Do you enjoy "true crime" reality shows? Well, that show sounds creepy and I think I'll pass. But I have fixated on trials of the day, like Casey Anthony and Jodi Arias, and last weekend I watched a documentary on the Scott Peterson case.

When the news feels very personal

I have two trips planned between now and the end of the year. They are both to places that have been featured prominently, and not positively, in the national news.

Thanksgiving in Vegas. In little more than a month, I'll be celebrating my birthday and turkey day just doors away from Mandalay Bay, where the nation's more prolific mass shooter mowed down 500 people. My heart is bruised by this carnage.

Christmas in Key West. Hurricane Irma did her damage there. The Publix Store, just minutes from the hotel where I'll be staying, was the site of an airlift that delivered bottled water and meal rations. It's the kind of thing you expect to see in a third world country, not outside of the grocery store where you've bought bananas, orange juice and Coke.

I know that these destinations depend on tourist dollars, so they will be up and running and ready for me. My friends, Reg and Henry, live in Key West and assure me things are rapidly returning to normal. I even spoke to the hotel where I'll be staying and the manager tells me all is well -- his building sustained minimal damage that's already been repaired and he can't wait to meet me.

But I wonder how it will feel to celebrate in towns still tinged with tragedy. I'm already hyperemotional these days, what with lingering concerns about my job (and, therefore, finances) casting a long shadow over everything. While that shooter didn't fire at me, and my roof was untouched by hurricane winds, I'm still an American. So on some level, what happened to those citizens did have an impact on me, too.

So I'm worried about being sad, I guess. And that's one of the ways depression takes hold of me. Worry about worry ... and then things start to look hopeless ... and the way I feel right now begins to feel like the way it will be forever.

Fortunately for me, the sun is shining. The sky is blue, Cubbie blue. And last night, my heroes delivered what's being called "a capital performance."

I know my guys aren't favored to go all the way this year. I realize how hard it is to repeat in the MLB. But they got here -- for the third year in a row! -- and they're defending their World Series championship with heart.

GO, CUBS, GO!

Tonight!

All I have to do is get through today and
then I can watch my guys defend tonight.

Bring on the Nationals!

The cover fell off, but still ...

I saw Napoleon and his "mom" today. She was sitting on the corner, surrounded by his carrier and litter box, kitten beside her and nose in a book. I recognized it, even though the front cover had fallen away: it was the Patty Hearst autobiography I gave her husband! It made me happy to see her so engrossed in it. It made me feel old that this story is completely unknown to both her and her husband, but they're both readers, and readers love books. It makes me happy to put books in their hands. Especially used books that would be tossed aside but are now being enjoyed.

And I had another one for her in my purse. Caleb said he likes true crime, while his wife prefers "biography, memoirs and poetry." I found Waiting for Snow in Havana in our local Little Free Library. She was enthusiastic about it.

I also worked out at lunchtime. I feel better today than I have in a week. I think I discovered the key to overcoming depression: physical activity, and doing something -- even something that doesn't cost anything -- for others.

4 out of 5

I had my review this week. My boss and my coworkers combined to give me a 4 out of 5. That's better than I gave myself, and as good as anyone will get.* I have to work on being more daring in my creative choices, and on not wearing my heart on my sleeve when things go awry. I'm seen as responsible, collaborative and supportive. And I have earned my client's vocal and demonstrated trust and respect, which goes a long way.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. None of that is what I was interested in. What's going on with that agency in St. Louis? Are they replacing me? Are they replacing us? Is this solid "4" about to lose her job?

My boss says "no." He says he's wandered the halls, asking The Powers that Be about our sister agency in St. Louis and he says he's confident that there is no move afoot to get rid of us. He confided that his interest wasn't only in calming my nerves -- he has to work at least two more years before he can afford to retire.

I feel better now, even though I don't entirely believe him. It isn't that I think he's lying, it's that I saw what I saw on that deck. It's possible I misunderstood it ... and yes, it's unlikely that management would look a director like my boss square in the eye and lie to him ... except I saw what I saw on that deck.

So I'm moving ahead as though it is true that I'll be let go soon. I'm collecting samples and slowly building my online portfolio.

At least I'm no longer popping a Xanax first thing in the morning, and I'm able to think about the upcoming NLDS playoffs. GO, CUBS!

*Corporate discourages perfect scores, and here's why: If I got 5 out of 5, and there's no room for improvement, then why aren't I being promoted and how much of a raise do I deserve?

Today felt important

Hauled my ass to church this morning. The sermon was about "courage." In this context, it means we're supposed to "flex" our "courage muscles" in terms of social justice. Certainly I'm for that -- I mean, who isn't? But that isn't the message that fed my soul. I interpreted it to mean I need to flex my courage muscles in more personal and exigent matters. As my life enters this new chapter, I have to be more brave about trying new things, more open about trusting people and asking for help.

Every week, our minister says that the church is "made joyful by our laughter and holy by our tears." There is a power to being in that space. I admit my mind was wandering all over the place while the service was going on, but that doesn't mean my spirit wasn't fed by my time there. I know what I want my online portfolio to say. I feel energized about writing it. I feel that was God's hand, nudging me along.

Then I had a gettogether with my aunt, her husband and my kid sister and her husband. It was the first time we'd all been together in two years. My aunt loves me, and has been working on maintaining a relationship with me, and I treasure that. Her husband is a good man, too. At one point, over clam chowder and one too many rum-and-cokes, I blurted what was going on at work, and how scared I am.

The results made me happy. I got a lot of support. Encouragement. Affection. I had been feeling very alone and isolated and obsessed. Much of that is alleviated.

I don't have to be strong all the time. I do have resources, even if they aren't financial. I will get through this. And I'll do it with my smarts and my spirit.

I have to protect and nurture this feeling that started at church today.

Sunday Stealing

CREEPY CRAWLIES

1. You are walking down the road and you look down. There is a bug. Do you step on it? No. One of my dearest childhood memories is "Charlotte's Web," read aloud by my mother. Since every bug could be someone's mother or best friend, whenever possible I let them live in peace.

 
2. What is one fantasy that you want to come true more than any other? That the lottery ticket I buy is the big winner.

3. Someone knocks on your door. Do you look out the window to see who it is before you open it? Do you open it regardless of who it is? I always look. I usually open. I'm never happy about it.

4. Have you ever eaten Play Doh? Yes. I recall it was salty.

 
5. What was your favorite Saturday morning cartoon as a child and why? Rocket J. Squirrel and his pal, Bullwinkle Moose. They made me laugh. They still do. Whenever I happen upon them, I stop to watch.

6. Are you a “people watcher?” Yes.

7. I have a bowl of fruit. There are apples, oranges & pears. You help yourself to one - which one do you choose? Apple.

8. What is your biggest pet peeve in the blogging world? People who come by just to complain about what I've posted. I recall when I first did Thursday 13 there was a woman named Gattina -- I think she was from Germany -- who would do it every damn week. I did one about original casting choices of classic films. You know, Shirley Temple for Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, or Ronald Reagan as Rick in Casablanca. She said, "Who cares about this?" I do, you wretched nitwit. And you could depend on her to come back the next week and say similar shit. It still happens now and again, but less and less. I think most of the icky trolls have moved to Facebook. That's why I don't mind that the blogging world has gotten smaller. There are fewer of us, but our manners are better.
 
9. What is one religion that you could just never see yourself joining? Scientology. No offense to any one. I don't like slagging someone else's faith. Scientology just isn't for me.

10. What word do you use far too often? "Fuck." But it's just so ... versatile. I recall reading an angry sailor's description of a broken jeep: "The fucking fucker's fucked."

11. How long do you spend in the shower? Too long. It's my major daydreaming spot.

12. If you were to write a personal ad about yourself, what would it say? SWF wishes you would just move along.

13. Your favorite flavor of soup is….? Beef barley.

14. You are sitting on a bench in the park and a bug walks in front of your feet…. do you squash him?  (I am assuming this is a different bug from question #1) No.

 

Feeling pretty good about himself

Had lunch with my nephew today to celebrate his (gulp!) 18th birthday. He seemed happy and positive, showing me the business card of the banker who helped him close his "child's" savings account and open his "adult" checking account -- funded with his first paycheck from McDonald's.

He's making $150/week working part-time on the crew. He enjoys it. He's met a lot of new people -- for some reason, the location that called him back is the farthest from his home, so none of his classmates work there. Two of his three crew chiefs and most of his other coworkers are a little older and full-time. Those in the back, who prepare the food, speak no English. He likes being around a mix of people, and I like that about him.

He's okay balancing work and school, and not worried about being able maintain that. He's cool with the amount of time he's able to spend with his friends, too. He seemed less certain about his future. He's going to start looking at colleges in earnest "in November and December," and talks about that like it's a million years away.

He seemed happy with the gifts I had for him. I got him a vintage Venus and Mars promotional t-shirt  from one of his favorite Wings CDs. And a new Anthony Rizzo 44 shirt to wear as we enter the 2017 playoff season. And $20 cash.

We talked a lot about the upcoming series with the Nationals. I was pleased by how knowledgeable he was.

Oh hell, I'm just pleased with him. He's a good kid. He's turning into a good man. I hope he's really as happy as he appears. Depression can be tricky, I know. But these hours we spend bonding ... I hope they give him confidence that if something is wrong, he can turn to me.

I can't whistle

Remember that song from The King and I? "Whenever I feel afraid I hold my head erect, and whistle a happy tune, so no one will suspect I'm afraid." So what's a gal to do if she can't whistle?

I woke up this morning and my first thought was impending doom. Really, I can't live like this. It's not healthy. It's not productive. I'll simply come unglued.

So I'm trying to wipe my mental slate and replace it with something positive. At Friday's Cub game -- I was there! -- relief pitcher Hector Rondon got his first career hit. After five season in the majors. It was a close call, and at first he was called out. But before he could leave the field, he received the signal that the play was being reviewed. His joy, and his teammates' joy, in his achievement was just so infectious.

It was a joy to watch. So when I start to panic, I'll imagine myself waving back at Hector, unexpectedly and proudly standing on first.

Saturday 9

Saturday 9: Little Woman (1969)

True confession: The first concert I ever attended was Bobby Sherman, and I had this very picture of him on my bedroom door. He was the hottest thing around, before David Cassidy and Donny Osmond came along. (Preteen girls are so fickle.)

1) This song contains many weather references (clouds, rainbows, sunshine, rain). How's the sky where you are today? Clear and pretty cloudless.

2) Bobby Sherman sings that when he's alone, he imagines his "Little Woman" is right there beside him. Do you often daydream? All the time. FOCUS, GAL, FOCUS!

3) Bobby had a very bright smile. Do you ever use whiteners on your teeth? Every six months I use white strips.

4) He was beloved for his shiny hair. If we were to peek in your bathroom, how many haircare products would we find? Two different shampoos, one conditioner, hairspray. Does the blow dryer count? There's a hairbrush on the sink.

5) After high school, Bobby attended Pierce, a community college in the west San Fernando Valley. For culinary students, Pierce offers courses in canning -- specifically apples and peaches. If we were to peek into your pantry, would we find canned fruits? I have two cans of cling peaches. Purchased at the store. I didn't "put them up" my self.

6) As an actor, one of Bobby's earliest performances was on the TV show Honey West. That series revolved around a female "private eye" adept at martial arts. Do you have any self-defense moves (that don't involve a weapon)? No.

7) In 1966, Bobby did this rather energetic commercial for milk. Do you often enjoy a glass of milk? I seldom drink milk by itself anymore. Usually it's for my cereal. 

8) When his show business career waned, he became a paramedic. Have you ever called 911? Once. I interrupted a rape in progress. It's scary in retrospect, but at the time, I kept my cool because I was so angry. My arrival may have stopped him from actually violating her sexually, but he had subdued her by hitting her in the face so hard he dislocated her jaw. No human has the right to handle another human that way. She was so frightened and in so much pain. I can still remember the feel of her nails in my skin, she was holding my arm so tight while we waited for the police to arrive. I didn't have to testify in court because she refused to cooperate with his prosecution. The police suspected that the assault was in retribution for a drug deal gone wrong, and she was very afraid of her "employers."

9) Random Question: Which book do you think you could learn more from -- The Joy of Sex or The Joy of Cooking? I could certainly improve my expertise in both areas!

Little Gal, Happy at Last

I admit I've been very distracted this week. Finding that deck that (possibly) revealed my future sent me into a tailspin. But, as luck would have it, Friday found me at my ultimate happy place, Wrigley Field, with my old friend, John. It was just what I needed:

Booze, baseball and a buddy.

It was a fun game that had absolutely no impact on the standings. The Cubs have clinched the division, the Reds are cellar dwellers. So Manager Joe Maddon got imaginative with the lineup. He showcased players who don't otherwise get to start. We had catchers playing first base and third base, and doing just fine. One of this season's brightest rookies, Ian Happ, got a three-run homer in the 8th and that put it away. It was nice to be there for the final homestand of the season, a lovely way to say thank you to a team that has come to mean so much to me. My guys. As John chides me, "You act as though they sprang from your loins."

A margarita at the ballpark, a cranberry juice/vodka afterward loosened me up. Both my tongue and my attitude. I told John all about what's going on at work. My panic about being too old to hire but too young to retire. He helped me keep it all in perspective. I can only do what I can do right now. I can prepare for my job hunt. I can pare back expenses. I can't undo the past (damn!) and I can't know the unknowable (double damn!). And I don't want to waste my todays worrying about tomorrow.

And I don't want to waste my todays worrying about tomorrow. It does bear repeating, doesn't it? Dear blog buddies and lurkers, I can't guarantee that I won't slide into obsession/depression, but I'm going to try to stay positive and productive.

And I got a shirt with this on it:

I've got my guys at least through October 9. Playoffs for the third year in a row. My "lovable losers" are now a force to be reckoned with!

Exploiting her to the end

I am deluged by the coverage of Hefner's death. I keep hearing about all he did for Chicago, where he got his start. How Playboy was one of the first magazines to publish Ray Bradbury and Alex Hailey. He championed balanced, long-format interviews.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

He did all that while objectifying women. 

He got his start publishing a nude of Marilyn Monroe. He built his empire on her body. He never paid her for that photo. I'm not implying that he did anything illegal. The starving young Marilyn signed a release for that red velvet nude. But still, she was objectified to a large audience, without her permission. Oh, and that release she signed? Her autograph says, "Mona Monroe." As she told a writer later, “I was nervous, embarrassed, even ashamed of what I had done, and I did not want my name to appear on that model release.”

Therefore I'm offended that he's going to be buried in the crypt beside hers.  So much for rest in peace.

A black and white situation

I spent my day off today preparing for my job hunt. First, I trolled the internet and found a trio of ways to put my portfolio online. They're all a little too complicated for me right now. I'll have to explore them more carefully again. Soon. I just felt a little overwhelmed this morning.

Then I went to Carson's (maybe it's Bon-Ton, Bergner's or Younker's in your neighborhood). I picked up my Clinique eye cream, a pair of cuffed black slacks and this jacket, all on sale.

I chose the jacket at right because it's not expressly seasonal. In spring, I can wear it zipped. In fall/winter, I can layer. I can do the same thing with the jacket at left, purchased last spring at the same store.

I wish I could have found something I liked in a navy print.  Or a royal blue solid. But alas, those were not on the racks.

Fortunately, I work in a very casual industry. I doubt that, after the first interview, I'll have to wear a jacket again. Then it will probably be back to jeans and sweaters.

Otherwise I'll just be known as the fat old lady in black and white.

I'm trying not to freak out about this. I'm not succeeding, of course, but I am trying. By taking actions, even little ones, I am granting myself the illusion of control. You know, fake it till you make it. After all, it is MY life. While I have no control over when/if the axe falls, it's not like I'm a spectator in what happens after that.

I'm glad it was Lackey

As John Lackey's designated fan, I'm pleased and proud that the crusty old fart is the one who got tonight's win.

In what was possibly the start of his career -- certainly his last regular season game -- he pitched six innings of one-run baseball and got the W that made the Cubs the 2017 Central Division Champions.

Think of it: what could be the final game of his career, he puts his team in the playoffs. Can you think of anything more perfect?

God, I love baseball!

There's always this

I'm not going to get this exactly right, but here's the gist: Presidential biographer Doris Kearns Goodwin recalls Lyndon B. Johnson at the end of his life. He was out of office, and because of Vietnam, hardly revered. His daughters were grown, married and mothers. His wife had necessarily developed her own set of interests; after nearly 40 years of marriage to a politician, she learned to sustain herself in a relationship where she wasn't the focus. He'd let his hair grow long. He resumed his cigarette habit. He was hanging around his ranch, where little seemed to engage his interest. The twentysomething Doris, who was there to interview him, found herself surprised to feel sorry for him, and grateful for the Red Sox. She realized everyone needs something all their own -- independent of their families or their careers -- something personal that brings them great joy.

I'm so lucky to have the Cubs.

I'm tired from battling this cold. The roof of my mouth is mushy and I have no appetite. My finances and career are a mess. But you know what? I'm happy because tomorrow I get to buy a t-shirt with this printed on it:

 Bring on the Nationals!

Dead Writer Walking

I developed an idea, a way for my client to respond to the Experian data breach. I refashioned copy to make the way the gears of a HELOC grind sound a little more appealing. I went to lunch and bought flowers for my desk. I prepared for tomorrow morning's meeting.

I live my work life as though I don't know they have plans to replace me.

This is surreal.

Oh well. I've been in advertising for decades and have never been let go. Truly, I don't know anyone else that can be said of. It's simply my turn. I just wish it had come a little earlier, when I was more marketable and better prepared to bounce back.

Maybe it won't happen. I've feared many a pogrom before and survived.

And if it does happen, maybe I'll find something that's a better fit. For while I am very loyal to my client, I don't especially like where I work.

But I can't do anything else tonight. I am sick -- I'm congested and headachey and the roof of my mouth is mushy. It's hot outside. The Cubs can't put the Cardinals away.

As Katie Scarlett O'Hara would say, "Tomorrow is another day." I'm just going to be kind to myself, eat a tangerine, drink some water, and get some sleep.

More than $60, less than $90

Last Friday, Napoleon the Cat and his humans were trying to get out of town. His dad, Caleb, is apprenticing a few days a week as a window washer in Indiana. Once he compiles the requisite hours, he will be able to work full-time and make a decent wage.

But they missed their ride and had to take the bus. They were working the corners, husband on one side of the street, wife and Napoleon on the other side, trying to raise the $90 they needed to get all three of them to Indiana, and a new life.

On Monday, I saw Napoleon and his mom and my heart sank. They didn't make it! I've been really rooting for this homeless couple. They live in a tent by the river, and share whatever resources they have with this kitten they rescued. Napoleon is growing like a week -- lanky and strong, like my Reynaldo. He's a completely average looking little tomcat, nothing special, but he is much loved by these two. And it shows in his friendly, trusting demeanor. This kitten has never known anything from humans than tenderness.

She explained that while they didn't raise the full $90 it would take for three seats on the bus -- Napoleon needs a ticket and a separate seat for his carrier -- they did come up with just over $60. That was enough for Caleb to get to Indiana and back when he's done with work.

She is sure that by next week, they'll have the $90. Then, once her husband in a regular job, they can move to a shelter that gives the the opportunity to bathe regularly. Once she's presentable, she'll take steps to become licensed to do hair in Indiana.

I will miss them, of course. But it will be good to know they're sleeping indoors when the midwestern winter comes.

And I am grateful to them. Knowing them has opened me up and enabled me to better see those I pass on the street every day.

Now what?

Self portrait

It's 2AM and I cannot sleep. Part of it is that I cannot breathe. I woke up because of this woeful summer cold.

But the reason why I can't sleep is money. Regret over my life choices. Fear of the future.

If I lose this job, I'll get three months' severance. I have between 5 and 6 months' worth of expenses in the bank, so that puts me to 8 months. Figure in unemployment benefits and that puts me to 9 months.

So by this time next year I had better be ensconced in another decent-paying job. Or by this time next year I'll file for bankruptcy. By then I will be nearly 61 years old. I am terrified.

Sunday I reached out to two former coworkers and asked them to write recommendations for my LinkedIn page. One did already, and offered to help me with my online portfolio.

But I don't feel good and I'm scared and lonely. I really don't have much family anymore. Just my niece and nephew, and this isn't the kind of thing I can discuss with them -- at least not my nephew. He's only a senior in high school and battles depression himself.

My cousin Rose loves me. She's an interminable pain in the ass, but she does love me. My aunt will be in next week -- she's been a trick bag herself lately, consumed by anger over family dramas,* but maybe I can talk to her about my panic.

I know Reg and Henry care, but they are rebuilding their lives after Irma and don't really have the capacity to listen to my woes. Besides, they are more than 700 miles away. My oldest friend in California is in even worse shape than I am! Although she does have her cousin, who is being quite supportive, both financially and emotionally. I'm glad she family to lean on, and jealous because I don't have that resource.

Barb just lost her husband. She doesn't need to hear this shit. Besides, she's planning on moving away, too! 

I haven't heard from Kathleen in months. Mindy and I are going to get together. Really we are ... but it doesn't happen.

I've got the newbies, Joanna and Nancy. They both have been through their own "stuff" in life and may have valuable insights to share.

And John and Kathy. We've been friends more than 30 years, with all that entails. John and I are going to the Cub game this Friday. YEA!

AND OH, YEAH! THE CUBS! They won today! The magic number for the playoffs is two. I wish that were enough to calm me back to slumber.

*Which I am trying mightily to avoid.

I am sick and tired

Literally. Sore throat, runny nose, headache, exhaustion. It took me till 1:00 to get dressed to go out and then I thought about what "going out" actually entailed -- meaning 90º+ heat and relentless sun. I just couldn't. Not even to go clothes shopping. So I put my pajamas back on and got back into bed.

I did do laundry! I want to sleep on my brand new sheets tonight. That should make me feel better.

Him Pretty

That is a very young William Holden from his first movie, Golden Boy (1939). I'm familiar with his work -- The Country Girl, Sabrina, Sunset Boulevard, Network ... and, of course, I Love Lucy. I always think of him as craggy and boozy and cynical. Seeing him 21 and idealistic and so very handsome was a revelation.

Fangirl Lucy pisses him off at The Brown Derby

As always, when I see films with my movie group, I enjoy the community as much as the film. I was fascinated by one young woman (25?) who sat on the floor and knitted by "cinelight." I missed Joanna -- she had a stomach bug made worse by the heat -- but said a quick "hi" to Betty and met a friend she brought along. Then I chatted on the street corner a while with our moderator, Will. I was waiting for an Uber, he was walking home.

While we were talking, a man stopped and insisted on talking to him. The man was unkempt and a little scattered. Will was embarrassed and didn't encourage the conversation. Turns out the guy was a regular at the food pantry, where Will volunteers. He has "problems," Will volunteered by way of explaining why we didn't want to stand and chat with him.

Then he told me the story of another man -- a musician -- who is also homeless. Charming, literate, and completely down on his luck. Will said he and friends were going into a theater and the musician interrupted his dumpster diving to say, "Hi." His friends were astonished. "How do you know him?"

I liked Will so much for that. I thought of telling him about Caleb and Napoleon, and how often I've thought of them this weekend, but I didn't ... I don't know why ... I'm much more forthcoming on this blog than I am in real life.

Saturday 9

Saturday 9: Da Doo Ron Ron (1977)

Unfamiliar with this week's tune? Hear it here.

1) This song begins by stating that he met her on a Monday and his heart stood still. How did your past week start? It may be a lot to expect you to report that you met someone who made your heart stand still, but did anything noteworthy occur? Well, I did discover something that made my heart stand still, but it wasn't a good thing. I found out that my company is thinking of reorganizing ... again ... and I worry about what this means for my future. (Gulp!) I'm terrified of being unemployed at this late stage of my career.

2) While making hit records, Shaun Cassidy also starred as Joe Hardy on the Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew Mysteries. The Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew books have been popular with generations of American kids. Were you a fan? I was a rabid Nancy Drew consumer. Which is why I was so tickled to see this manual typewriter when I visited the Soboroff Typewriter Collection in 2015. (Yes, I'm geeky enough to actually go look at old typewriters, and then to be thrilled.) There, along with Truman Capote's and Tennessee Williams' and Ernest Hemingway's, was the typewriter used by Carolyn Keene to write about Nancy, Bess, George and Ned. This typewriter is too modern for the first book, which was written in 1929 and published in 1930. But it's still pretty damn cool.

 3) Shaun went to Beverly Hills High School. Over the decades, BHHS has had many good footballs teams. Do you remember what sports your school excelled at? We had one very good basketball team when I was a junior. We actually made it to the Sweet 16! But that was a rare bright spot. Our teams were otherwise pretty dismal.

4) Shaun followed his older half-brother, David Cassidy, into TV/records/teen stardom. Do you have siblings? If yes, what career paths did they follow? One sister is an accountant, the other is a grade school lunch lady.

5) His middle name is Paul, after his maternal grandfather. Tell us something about one of your grandparents. One of my grandmothers was such a do-er. She sat on church committees and was an election judge and stayed involved in Girl Scouts long after my aunt was grown. I wish I had a portion of her energy.

6) Shaun's mother, actress Shirley Jones, reports that he was more than 3 weeks late and born by Cesarean. Have you heard family legends about your arrival into the world? I was born at the stroke of midnight. Legally, midnight doesn't exist, so my mother got to choose my birthday. Did she prefer 11:59 PM on November 21? What about 12:01 AM on November 22? She chose the latter. Once, when I had my chart done, the astrologer was entranced by this. I was born on the exact cusp of the cusp between two signs!

7) "Da Doo Ron Ron" was originally recorded by The Crystals. Can you think of another song that has been a hit by more than one artist? "You Can't Hurry Love" by Diana Ross and the Supremes in the 1960s, and then by Phil Collins in the 1980s, and then by The Dixie Chicks in the 1990s.

 

8) In 1977, when this version of "Da Doo Ron Ron" was popular, Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak incorporated Apple. Are you Mac or Android? Laptop is a Mac, phone is Android.

 
9) Random Question: You're exhausted. You collapse into bed and are about to drift into slumber when you hear the drip-drip-drip of the bathroom faucet. Would you kick off the covers and go turn it off? Or would you stay in bed, letting it drip until morning? I like to think I'd get up and take care of it. But I'm not sure I would.

 

$6.40 and an old paperback

I spent a little time with Caleb, aka "Napoleon's dad," at lunchtime today. He was low energy, a little down. I thought at first it was the heat. It's been horribly, unseasonably warm this week -- 90º and oh, the sun! But then I remembered, today is Friday. This is the day he's usually traveling to Indiana, where he's apprenticing the window washing trade so he can begin making a decent wage and move indoors with his wife and Napoleon, instead of sleeping in a tent.

So why was he here? He missed his ride because he had no clean clothes. Their belongings were damaged in a recent rainstorm and he had nothing suitable to wear. They washed their clothes -- I'm not sure where -- but now they're taking a bus. They're $30 short because Napoleon requires his own ticket and his own seat for his cat carrier. Otherwise the kitten would have to ride in a crate in cargo department, under the bus.

"No way," Caleb insisted. "He's like my baby. He'd be miserable in a box, away from people!"

He spoke to his prospective employer, who has been very understanding about the special challenges homelessness presents, and explained the situation. His boss wants Caleb there by Sunday night so he can start working Monday morning.

I hadn't expected to see Caleb today, because I thought he'd be en route to Indiana. I knew it was possible I'd see his wife, so I tucked an old paperback in my purse. He likes to read true crime and he's about done with Ann Rule book I gave him, so I brought him Patty Hearst's autobiography. I figured it's a compelling story -- kidnapping, brainwashing, bank robbery, a fatal fire, a Presidential pardon -- told by the victim herself. I love books and it makes me happy to put them into the hands of someone who will appreciate the stories.

But I didn't have my wallet with me. In terms of currency, all I had was four nickels in my pocket.

I left $21 and change at the office. I know I can't responsibly just give it to Caleb, even though I wanted to. I'm on a budget these days myself. I must resist the temptation to just go to the ATM and get them all the money they need.

On the other hand, Napoleon and his humans have touched something deep in me. Yes, I need to buy new clothes this weekend, because there's a big sale at Carson's and I may be interviewing soon. Yes, I should pick up something for tomorrow night in celebration of Joanna's birthday. Yes, the $60 I just spent on skincare was important because I have to look younger than my years if I'm on the job market again.

But I have to do more for this little family. I think about the heart these two people showed when they found that kitten last spring, in the bushes, huddled up against its dead mother. They have meager resources, and they chose to share them with a little furball in need. Plus, I know cats, and little Napoleon is healthy and has never known anything but love. That deserves something.

So I hurried back outside with $6.20. It seemed to make Caleb happy, even before he counted what I dropped into his empty coffee can. The money appeared to mean as much as the book. I think he values really being seen and given the chance to be heard in the same way he appreciates cash.

$6.40 puts them 20% of the way to getting Napoleon on that bus and on to a new life. It's very possible that one of these days they'll be gone from my life forever. I shall miss them, of course, but it will make me happy to imagine them dry, safe and clean.