Thursday Thirteen #462

More than a singer. At last week's TCM Classic Film Festival, Eddie Muller called Frank Sinatra "the greatest singer of the 20th century." I don't know about that, exactly, but certainly Sinatra was a genius, influential singer. However I'm here to celebrate him as an actor. In the right part, away from the ring-a-ding-ding slickness of his Rat Pack persona, he can be authentic and affecting. Of his more than 50 films, these are my favorite 13.

1. Young at Heart (1954). I've seen this Technicolor musical more times than I can count. Barney Sloan is one of life's losers, but he has natural talent and when he falls in love, he really falls. His vulnerability is breathtaking, and he sings the most heartbreaking version of "Someone to Watch Over Me." 

2. The Joker Is Wild (1957). Based on a true story, Chicago crooner Joe E. Lewis runs afoul of the Mob and pays a hideous price. Even though the movie is in black-and-white, the violence is deeply disturbing. I admit it: I cried the first time I saw it,  I think in large part because Joe is such a likeable guy. Sinatra sings a justifiably famous rendition of "All the Way." 

3. From Here to Eternity (1953). He won his Oscar for Maggio, the skinny, noisy soldier who had more passion than sense. I won't say anything else about this performance in case you haven't seen the movie. I don't want to spoil it for you. But yeah, he was that good.

4. The Man with the Golden Arm (1955). Frankie is a talented drummer, an accomplished gambler, and a tragic heroin addict. He wants to stay clean and he wants to do right, but wanting ain't getting. Sinatra is the best thing in a very good movie.

5. Kings Go Forth (1958). As WWII winds to an end, two American soldiers (Sinatra and Tony Curtis) fall in love with the same girl in the South of France. I'm not going to give away the plot twist, but Sinatra is moving as the man who is going to get his heart broken, no matter how this triangle is resolved.

6. The Manchurian Candidate (1962). A sweaty, sad, focused performance as a traumatized veteran. I appreciated this much-acclaimed political thriller, but it's too intense for me and I'll never watch it again.  

7. Pal Joey (1957). Joey is a singer with a lot of attitude, ambition and talent. He's torn between two women – a wealthy red-headed widow who can bankroll his dreams and a naive blonde who can't even take care of herself. Yeah, the plot is predictable, but Sinatra is so good as a heel.

8. The Detective (1968). This is a rather unpleasant movie about a very unpleasant crime. A murder victim was not only bludgeoned to death, he was mutilated. Sinatra plays Joe, the police detective determined to solve the case. The movie is mature, gritty and realistic and Sinatra disappears into the role. We don't always like Joe, but Sinatra makes sure we always understand him.

9. High Society (1956). In this remake of The Philadelphia Story, Sinatra has ridiculously blue-back hair. That aside, he's achingly romantic as he pines for Grace Kelly, and he has a great musical number with Bing Crosby, "What a Swell Party."

10. The First Deadly Sin (1980). Another Sinatra cop cleaning up New York. This detective is nearing the end of his career and he wants to go out a pro. But he's dealing with an insurmountable problem – his beloved wife is in the hospital and he has to accept that she's not coming home. So he's losing the two pillars of his life at the same time. There's vulnerability, tenderness and resignation in Sinatra's final major acting role.

11. Robin & the Seven Hoods (1964). A retelling of the Robin Hood saga, set in Prohibition-era Chicago. Sinatra plays Robbo, a gangster with a heart of gold. It's not a great movie, but Sinatra inhabits it with superstar charisma. And he sings "Chicago." So there's that. 

12. Marriage on the Rocks (1965). Sinatra is kinda cute as he falls into The Generation Gap. He plays a man who spends too much time in his role of provider and not enough as husband and father. His long-suffering wife is sick of it. She feels too young to behave like an old married lady and demands a divorce. Frank is good as a man who is confused because, after following all the rules and doing what's expected, he still gets kicked in the pants.

13. It Happened in Brooklyn (1947). Another Sinatra soldier. He's eager to get home to Brooklyn and the girl he left behind. He brings a friend home with him, a shy and wealthy bachelor, and a love triangle ensues. Sinatra is charming as a silly, clueless young man who is all heart.

Please join us for THURSDAY THIRTEEN. Click here to play along, and to see other interesting compilations of 13 things.

And that's a wrap!

 

Eleven movies over four days. What a celebration of cinema! Not to mention a reunion of fellow film nerds. My vacation may have ended very badly (see post below), but that doesn't mean it was a bad time.

 

Here are the movies I saw in the order I saw them: 

 

Modern Times (1936). I don't much like silent movies and my sense of humor is more verbal than visual. The only Chaplin I'd ever seen before was a few minutes at the Museum of Science and Industry when I was a kid. Yet I loved this. It's the adventures of a kindhearted Tramp during the Depression. It's funny, romantic and rebellious. The intro by Tony Shaloub (Mr. Monk) reframed the movie and helped me appreciate it. He recommended rewatching movies we loved as children (when he fell in love with Chaplin and Laurel & Hardy), that while we remember the slapstick they probably have more heart and pathos than we understood. 

 

 

The Mouthpiece (1932). A pre-code talkie I'd never even heard of before! A flamboyant defense attorney, Vince Day, will do anything to win the case and gain greater fame and publicity for himself. He seems the inspiration for Richard Gere's lawyer in Chicago. The (unrequited) love of a good woman changes his heart and he does the right thing. The ending was satisfyingly ambiguous. I can't wait to see it again.

 

Letty Lynton (1932). Okay, NOBODY has ever seen this one before! This Joan Crawford crime drama was wildly popular when it was first released but then it's been tied up in litigation and disputes for the last 90 years! Seeing this unicorn was the highlight of the festival for many. I liked it, didn't love it, but it was exciting to be part of the crowd seeing it for the first time since the 1930s.

 

Strangers on a Train (1951). A Hitchcock that I've seen many, many times. I always enjoy how twisted it is, but seeing it on the big screen with an audience was a thrill. Even better, it was introduced by CAROL BURNETT! She's always been a massive classic movie fan, and this one has personal meaning for her. I couldn't get close enough to get a photo, but at 93 she's still very funny and sharp. 

 

Pal Joey (1957). The world premiere of the 35 mm restoration and it was gorgeous! Tina Sinatra introduced it and I'm glad she got to hear us all spontaneously applaud when her father performed "The Lady Is a Tramp" for Rita Hayworth. It's a classic musical moment, and Daddy's Girl Tina was justifiably proud. This was a highlight for me.

 

A Face in the Crowd (1957). Andy Griffith is a folksy TV personality who lets power go to his head until he becomes The Demagogue in Denim. This film was introduced by conservative author and commentator Jonah Goldberg, who shocked me by saying that this character reminds him of Tucker Carlson (ouch). While it's easy to see this film as an indictment of right-wing media types who promote Trump to a gullible public, Goldberg and TCM's Ben Mankiewicz explained it's more than that – it's about how willing Americans are to be misled. That Trump is a symptom, not the disease. And I get it because this movie is almost 70 years old. We've been here before. A searing movie and thought-provoking discussion. If you've never seen this movie, FIND IT! It's free on Tubi and available on Amazon Prime and it's even more relevant today than it was in the year of my birth. (Plus you'll see a dimension to Andy Griffith you never guessed existed.)

 

All the President's Men (1976). More than a tribute to Redford – though he deserves all the posthumous accolades he's getting – this screening was a celebration of intelligent filmmaking and a free press. Former White House counsel John Dean (!) introduced the film and took questions afterward. I can't believe I was so close to history! My favorite moment was when he shared with us that The Nixon White House always knew Mark Felt was Deep Throat. It's just no one ever asked them.

 

 

Signage promoting the festival on Hollywood Blvd.

 

I'd Rather Be Rich (1964). My oldest friend and I saw this movie on TV when we were little girls and I was excited to revisit it. I enjoyed it thoroughly, even though it's fabulously stupid. The plot is all about misunderstandings and sex and mistaken identity – kind of like a less smutty episode of Three's Company. The hair was poofy, the clothes were gorgeous and Andy Williams was charming in his only film role. It was introduced by Kate Flannery from The Office, who clearly loves movies like this as much as I do.

 

Anastasia (1956). I was disappointed by this one. It was opulent, but slow moving and I admit I was bored. Yeah, I know: Oscars and Golden Globes. Blah, blah. 

 

Rope (1948). My second Hitchcock of the festival was definitely a highlight! First of all, I'm just captivated by this movie, which starts with a murder on a bright sunny day. So it's like Columbo – we know who did it and we know why they did it, the tension comes from watching the killers try to hide their crime. Then there was Mario Cantone (Anthony from Sex and the City). He was hysterical. Since the movie is clearly patterned on Leopold and Loeb, he yelled, "GAY HITCHCOCK!" Here he is cracking up Professor Jacqueline Stewart. Cantone was also insightful. He reminded us all how hard it was for gay actors in the 1940s and that he believed keeping a real-life secret infused John Dall's and Farley Granger's performances with desperation.

 

On the Town (1949). Closed out the Festival with a grand old MGM musical. Three sailors see all of New York – and find love – during their 24-hour shore leave. I've always had mad affection for this confection ("New York, New York, a wonderful town/the Bronx is up and the Battery's down/the people ride in a hole in the ground/New York, New York!") By late Sunday night we were all pretty punchy. The intro by TCM's Dave Karger started out rather high-brow, talking about Leonard Bernstein and the challenges of filming on location. Soon it devolved into silliness, with Karger, Cantone and Kate Flannery leading us in a game of "Shag, Marry or Kill" with the film's leads: Gene Kelly, Frank Sinatra and Jules Munshin. Sorry, Jules.

 

Here's hoping the Paramount merger doesn't fuck everything up and we'll all be together in Hollywood for 2027.

 

 

 PS As soon we got home, we heard Ted Turner had died. That felt like a death in the family. Without Ted Turner there would be no CNN, no 1995 World Champion Atlanta Braves, and most important to a legion of old movie nerds, no Turner Classic Movies. I wish we'd been together when we got the news. We could have toasted him.

Magical thinking

I've been back from vacation for a week and have yet to post about it! I'm beginning at the end. I don't fly well. In fact, I'm fucking petrified the whole time. I will not get on a plane without knowing there's Xanax in my purse. I want to be able to knock myself out if the terror becomes too great. When I asked a shrink what we should do about my fear, she said that everyone had irrational fears and instead of berating myself for being afraid, I should be proud of myself that I still fly. It would only be a problem, she reasoned, if it had an impact on my lifestyle. I'm proud to say I didn't take my Xanax once through the tale you're about to read. 

I did fall victim to magical thinking, though. I have a rule for myself when I fly – I never change my originally assigned flight. Let American Airlines offer me money or miles to take a later flight. I won't do it. I truly believe that if I do, I am opening myself up to bad luck. No, it makes no logical sense. Just as it never made any logical sense that if I was watching or listening to a baseball game and Anthony Rizzo came up to bat, I had to stop what I was doing and concentrate on helping him. Superstition, magical thinking, wackiness ... call it what you will. 

This time I was right. I broke my own rule and very bad things happened.

I got to LAX at 8:30 AM for my 10:30 flight home to O'Hare. As I checked in at the kiosk, I got the news: there was no crew and my flight was delayed six and one half hours. Not only would I have to hang around in the airport for hours, I wouldn't get home until after midnight, CST. That was unacceptable. My girlcat had been ill* and I wanted to get home.

American Airlines recommended a flight taking off in little over an hour to Tuscon, where I'd change planes for O'Hare. I was reassured that, since I'd be landing at the gate right next to my flight home, it would be smooth.

Well, they didn't lie about that. The flight to Tuscon was short and uneventful, and yes, the gate was right there. I had time to snarf a breakfast sandwich and bottled water before boarding for my flight home ... and entering hell.

•  First, I was in a middle seat. Between a couple. Who kept talking to each other and passing things over me as though I wasn't there. I asked them if they wouldn't prefer sitting together. No, she's window and he's aisle ... and they're both dreadful. Because we were three fat people in a row, it was hard to move. I had a difficult time getting to my Xanax but I thought, "oh, well, you got this far and you're almost home. It'll be fine."

• As we flew east I monitored the Cubs game on my phone and saw it was delayed. Storms in Chicago.  But the game was not cancelled, so I knew the rain was expected to stop soon. I didn't think it was as big a deal as Mr. and Mrs. passing their reading glasses back and forth over me. "These are yours." "No, these are yours." "Wait a minute, you were right!" "Where's the case for the glasses?" etc.

• The pilot came on and acknowledged the storms, saying we were going to circle high above them for a while until they passed. Because we were, as Dorothy said in The Wizard of Oz, "beyond the rain," what I could see out our window was sunny and fine. I don't know how much time had elapsed before he came back on and scared the living shit out of me. "We're running low on fuel so we're going to touch down in St. Louis." Oh, great! I could fall out of the sky!

• When we got to Lambert, we there wasn't a gate for us. That many flights to O'Hare had been rerouted. So we had to sit, and sit, and sit. I had downloaded The Very Best of Linda Ronstadt for the flight. I shall never listen to it again, for fear of PTSD. Finally we started moving. We were not taking off, however, there was no available runway for us. It's just there's a law about how long we're allowed to sit on an unmoving plane, so we had to get off. We were warned not to wander far, though. We'd be taking off within the hour. 

• Well, they didn't lie about that. Just after midnight, we were corralled back onto our flight and we all took our original seats. (Me in the middle.) It occurred to me that this would be the time I would have gotten home if I'd followed my rule and just hung out LAX all day.

• We took off and then – you can't make this shit up – within minutes the pilot came on and told us we were going back to St. Louis. There was smoke in galley. I sniffed the air and yes, it did smell like something was burning. My new husband said, "Gee, I hope they'll make us use the chute."  I hated him.

 

No, I didn't.

Actually, I was more frightened when I heard we were out of fuel. Though it's not a feel good to pass firefighters in the aisle as you disembark.

 

•  By now it was 1:20 AM on Tuesday. At the gate we were told to line up for hotel and meal vouchers and that we would be rebooked for a 9:30 AM flight to Chicago. OK, this is simply not acceptable. I worked in Chicago for more than 40 years. I know how busy the Lambert-O'Hare corridor is, especially on a weekday morning. People arrive at O'Hare and are in offices for their meetings every day before 9:30 AM. So I told them I wanted to be booked onto the first flight of the day to ORD.

 

•  That was 5:50 AM, boarding at 5:15. Not enough time to deal with a hotel. In a perfect full-circle moment, I was looking at killing hour after hour in an airport again. So be it. I want to go home. It really wasn't that bad. It took some time to find the baggage office – at this hour all the carousels were down – and explain my situation to the nice, lonely lady who worked there overnight. She explained to me that I would have recheck my bag and go through security again but I'd likely be first in line. Then she emphasized this – DO NOT USE THE KIOSK. CHECK IN THROUGH AN AGENT. She explained that according to the app, I was somehow still on the original flight from LAX to ORD and the kiosk won't "know" me.

 

•  I read. I wandered. I drank a lot of water. As soon as the agents began their day at 4:30, I was there. I thought it would be easy. HA! These four women – who had no one else to wait on, just me and one confused looking couple who just arrived – treated me as an adversary. They wouldn't let me finish a sentence! I tried "Yes, but I was told ..." but they insisted I had to try the kiosk before they would even speak to me. No "I'm sorry." Not even a "Good morning." Just "you have to use the kiosk first."Oh, and the kiosks weren't up yet. 

 

•  So when the kiosks finally came on, I gave one a shot. It insisted on charging me $45 to check my bag to O'Hare. NO FUCKING WAY.  I had been a good, uncomplaining sport until this moment. "I am not paying this!" I announced. Loudly. Your voice can really carry through an otherwise empty airport. Finally someone looked at my printed boarding pass. "The Tuscon flight," she said to herself as she read her monitor. Apparently our ill-fated flight was famous. She checked me through. No apology though. When I complained to American Airlines, this is the only thing I mentioned. My treatment here was the only thing I couldn't justify, the one thing they absolutely could have prevented.

 

• I got through TSA very easily and was home by 8:30 AM. 24 hours after I checked out of my hotel in Los Angeles. I now know why the Pope kisses the ground when he lands. 

 

I am proud of myself that my Xanax remained untouched. I did all this without it. I feel empowered. Angry, exhausted, and traumatized. But empowered, too. 

 

  

*She's so healthy now, I needn't have worried. 

 Photo by Briana Tozour on Unsplash

 

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. 

PS I no longer participate in WWW.WEDNESDAY via that link because her blog won't accept Blogger comments. I mention this only to save you the frustration I experienced trying to link up.

1. What are you currently reading? Conversations with Kennedy by Ben Bradlee. Ben Bradlee and his wife Toni were pushing a baby carriage down the street near their home on N Street in Georgetown. They ran into their new neighbors, Jack and Jackie Kennedy, who were also pushing a carriage. They ended up having drinks in the Kennedy's backyard and a friendship was born. The men – a Senator and an editor at Newsweek – had a lot in common. Their wives liked one another. Their kids were the same age. This foursome hung out from that day in 1959 until the President's death in 1963. They vacationed together in Palm Beach, Virginia and Camp David. They dined together upstairs at the White House. Bradlee was a pallbearer at the President's funeral. 

 

JFK and Jackie obviously knew Ben Bradlee was a newsman. He told them he was taking notes. He promised Kennedy he would not publish anything about their personal relationship until 5 years after JFK left the White House. He waited more than a decade until after the President's death, writing this while on sabbatical from his job as editor of The Washington Post after The Post broke the historic Watergate scandal. 

 

I know from Bradlee's memoir (see below) that he gave Jacqueline Onassis an advance copy of the book and she was so offended she never spoke to him again. I read this book decades ago and didn't understand why she was pissed. I'm almost 50 years older. Perhaps I'll get it now.

 

Even if I don't, this is a view of JFK you seldom see in biographies. Bradlee was not a member of the Kennedy Administration or family. He was never a relative, coworker or an employee. Also, he was a friend of the couple. Kennedy was known for his ability to compartmentalize, and few of the people who knew and then wrote about him saw him socially as Jackie's husband. Maybe this will give me an idea of what they were like when they lived in The White House. 

2. What did you recently finish reading? A Good Life: Newspapering and Other Adventures by Ben Bradlee. It strikes me funny that Bradlee, who edited Woodward and Bernstein at The Washington Post during the Watergate scandal, could write a memoir that so clearly cried out for the steady hand of a good editor. The middle of the book – Bradlee's years in Washington with the Kennedys (see above) and then Watergate and the Janet Cooke scandal – was exciting and fascinating. But the beginning, about his childhood and Navy years, was boring and the end, after his retirement from The Washington Post was embarrassingly self aggrandizing. 

 

I was ruefully amused by how relevant this book, originally published in 1996, is today, when it's fashionable for MAGA to bemoan "what the media has become."  Oh, for fuck's sake! Bradlee mentions that FDR didn't understand why the press criticized him so, that JFK was so angry at one of the New York papers that he cancelled the White House's subscription, that Nixon resented  The Washington Post after Watergate and The Pentagon Papers, that Jimmy Carter thought it was reckless, that Reagan hid behind "national security" to try to get them kill stories ... when exactly did the media "become" bad? If you visit the Lincoln Presidential Library in Springfield, there's an exhibit devoted to unflattering political cartoons published during the Civil War. Grow up and grow a thicker (orange) skin. That friction between a free press and a president is one of our greatest assets. Don't bemoan it – appreciate it. (Or just watch Fox News. Don't get me started about the Dominion Voting Systems scandal.)

3. What will you read next?  I don't know

 

  

Sunday Stealing

Thursday Thunks

1. Is there anyone whose home you enter without knocking? Does anyone (who doesn't live with you) have permission to enter your home without knocking? No, not since my mom died.

2. Tell us about a school trip you took. In February 1968, little 4th grade me and my classmates took a long bus ride from our suburban school parking lot to Chicago's Art Institute. It was thrilling. For me, it wasn't so much about the artwork as the beehive of activity that was downtown Chicago. I fell in love that day. Imagine my terror when I watched those same city streets on my family's living room TV, overcome with rioters and violence – first in April, after Dr. King's assassination, and then over the summer during the infamous 1968 Democratic convention. The televised upheaval of 1968 – assassinations, riots, Vietnam – marked me like my vaccination scar. I warn parents to be very careful how much news their little ones see, and to be sure to put it in some real context. My mom did the best the she could, but I don't think she comprehended how much I was taking in and how it scared me.

3. Name three things within arm's reach right now (but they can't relate to your phone, computer or laptop). My glasses, my cat Connie (who is demanding a snuggle), the TV remote.

4. Weather permitting, do you dry your clothes outdoors on a clothesline? No. I don't have a yard or a private porch.

5. If every flower in the world only bloomed in one color, what color would you like to see? Pantone 294. Wouldn't the world be beautiful if it was all Cubbie blue?

 

Saturday 9

Saturday 9: Like My Mother Does (2011)

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

1) In this song, Lauren Alaina tells us she knows she's beautiful and strong because she sees herself as her mother does. Who in your life consistently sees the best in you? Oh, this question makes me miss my late friend Henry so much! No one has ever, ever seen me as he did. I remember one night we were having a late dinner and he stared into my eyes and said suddenly, "Your (facial) features shouldn't work together, but they do. It's what makes you so beautiful. Like Sophia Loren." Trust me, I am not beautiful and I only resemble Loren in that we both walk upright and neither of us has a tail. But that was Henry. He loved me and saw me as all things wonderful.

 

So very not me.

2) She sings that her mother is her "rock." In this context, what do you think that means? Unwavering in support. 

 

3) When Lauren performed this song in concert, she brought her mother Kristy up on stage and held her hand as she sang. Kristy said she was touched, but also embarrassed because her daughter was the entertainer, not her. Do you get shy when all eyes turn to you? It depends on the situation. I can present and sell with tremendous confidence. But I die inside when people sing "Happy Birthday" to me.

 

4) Lauren began reading in pre-school and always read well above grade level. As a child, were you a big reader? Are you a big reader today? Yes.

   

5) According to the National Restaurant Association, we like to eat out on Mother's Day, and brunch is especially popular. If you could have whatever you want for brunch, what would you order? Eggs Benedict.

6) Mother's Day is the third biggest card-sending holiday in the US, just after Christmas and Valentine's Day. Who received the last card you purchased? I just mailed a birthday present to my friend Amy and there was a card with the gift.

 

7) While flowers are the most popular Mother's Day gift, jewelry comes in second. Are you wearing any jewelry as you answer these questions? If yes, did you receive it as a gift or buy it yourself? I am wearing plastic faux pearl stud earrings, purchased myself on a card from Claire's Boutique. (Sophia Loren would not be caught dead in these.)

 

8) According to the National Retail Federation, more and more of us are celebrating our mothers by taking her to a paint and sip event, a pottery class, or candle or soap making. Which of those four options do you think you'd enjoy the most? Soap. Or even better, lotion (though that wasn't one of the options).

9) While there's a spike in phone traffic on Mother's Day, these days it seems the trend is texting. On holidays, do you receive more calls or texts? Texts. I miss calls.

 

 

 

Thursday Thirteen #461

Younger than Springtime. Flipping through the April/May issue of AARP Magazine,* I came upon many tips to slow the aging process. I augmented their list with other info I found on the web. Some were common sense, some were surprising. 

1. Walk faster. Those of us who walk slowly tend to be at a higher risk for falls and weakness. With my knee and heel issues, I'm doing the best I can.

2. Maintain your balance. Again, the goal here is to reduce falls. My balance has never been good – not even as a child – because of my scoliosis. But my yoga helps. 

3. Stay social. Ding! Ding! Ding! I got one! I'm lucky that I make friends easily and with my little job at the card shop, I see people I like as often I as wish to. For me, the challenge is to remind myself that my friends aren't just fun, they are a support system for my physical and mental health. Which leads me to ...

4. Make mental health a priority. Many of us seniors (it's hard to believe I'm in that group but I indisputably am) accept loneliness, isolation and depression as a natural part of our lives. I don't. God did not put me here to be unhappy. While I accept that there is unhappiness in every life, it's not our baseline. I'm glad I'm in therapy.

5. Remember your cognitive health. I worry about this one a lot. My shrink (see above) assures me she's watching my reasoning and word choices to make sure I haven't declined and if she sees that I have, we will take steps. 

6. Eat more fiber. This is not only important for gut health, fiber helps regulate blood sugar and reduce the risk of diabetes. As a woman of a certain age, I should consume 22 grams/day. I likely don't. I do take an extra gram each day in 2 fiber capsules each morning. Maybe I should up that.

7. Beans are our friends. Lima beans, navy beans, pinto beans and black beans are all affordable and rich in fiber and nutrients. Unfortunately, I don't like them. I do like cooked peas, though. They're pretty good. Must add them to my meals more often.

8. Watch the processed sugar. Sugar is added to everything from condiments to yogurt. With this in mind, I should eat fewer cookies. I don't. Note to self: pay attention to my snacks. 

9. Establish a sleep schedule. Going to bed at approximately the same time every night promotes more restorative sleep. I do this.

10. Mind your dental health. Good oral hygiene reduces risk for infections, inflammation and heart attacks. No one spends more time at the dentist than I do.

11. Keep an eye on your vision. Seniors are at a higher risk of glaucoma and cataracts. Get your eyes checked regularly so these conditions can be diagnosed and dealt with promptly.

12. Wear your sunglasses. Damage from ultraviolet light has been linked to an increased risk of dementia. Most sunglasses come with built in UV protection. I do this one.

13. Wash your hands. It's not just for during a pandemic. Wash your hands several times a day for 20 full seconds. It will help protect your immune system. I need to do this more often.

How many of these do you do? Are you helping your body resist aging? 

*Not only was I reading an AARP publication, it was in actual printed form. I am a dinosaur! 

Please join us for THURSDAY THIRTEEN. Click here to play along, and to see other interesting compilations of 13 things.

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. 

PS I no longer participate in WWW.WEDNESDAY via that link because her blog won't accept Blogger comments. I mention this only to save you the frustration I experienced trying to link up.

1. What are you currently reading? A Good Life: Newspapering and Other Adventures by Ben Bradlee. I returned to this memoir, which I first read more than 25 years ago, because I'm about to see All the President's Men again, this time at the TCM Classic Film Festival. Bradlee was managing editor of The Washington Post, portrayed in the film by Jason Robards in an Oscar-winning performance, and was, so I thought during Watergate, the sexiest older man on the planet. I realize now that when teenaged me was crushing on that older man, he was younger than I am today, and this amuses me.

 

He did have a good life, an eventful one. Polio survivor. War hero and journalist. I am curious to see how the reminiscences/opinions of a man born in 1921 will sound to me today. 

2. What did you recently finish reading? Agatha Raisin and The Love from Hell by M. C. Beaton. #11 in the series, and I didn't really like it. Everyone in the story annoyed me – save for the minor recurring characters like the vicar's wife, Agatha's housekeeper, and one of the town's policemen. The plot actually takes us to a French monastery, an excursion that felt at best inauthentic. I'm not sorry I read it because it contains plot points I'll need to know if I return for #12. But I was disappointed.

3. What will you read next?  I don't know

 

  

The Gratitude Challenge – April 28

 

I am joining Kwizgiver in this. That's even her graphic I stole! In her words, "This isn't about perfection or keeping a streak. It’s just about noticing." I need to focus and, using my shrink's word, "unhook." 

 

The Prompt: What is one thing you’ve started noticing more because of this challenge? 

 

I'm going to try to continue noticing. I let myself get distracted and I sometimes miss small but meaningful things. For example, I woke this morning with my Connie Cat sleeping on the small of my back. It was a lovely feeling, but I realize it was also important. She doesn't do that when she's not feeling well, and I didn't notice she'd stopped more than a month ago. Perhaps if I had, I would have taken her to the vet earlier and made her well sooner. 

 

I suppose I'm ending the month grateful that I can evolve and improve. 

 

 

 

I prefer my drama on the screen

 

The TCM Classic Film Festival is almost upon us! My flights are booked. My hotel reservation is confirmed. Three of my four airport limo rides are lined up.* My girl cat, Connie, is healthy so I will miss – but not be worried about – her when I'm gone.

Thursday will begin with breakfast at Mel's with fellow festival goers. I'm seeing a former coworker for lunch at The Grove. Then Thursday evening the movies start. Four glorious days of old movies on the big screen!

It's Wednesday that's the problem. I had been looking forward to dinner with my oldest friend's adult daughter the night I arrive. She is in her late twenties now and has really gotten her life together. She's working on her relationship with her boyfriend, she has a good job as an optometrist assistant, is consulting a nutritionist to get to the bottom of her long-standing gastrointestinal issues. I held her as a baby and want to hear more about the positive direction her life is taking.

Of course, my oldest friend (her mother) is fucking everything up. As is her wont. 

After a period of being incommunicado, last week she resumed emailing and texting me. She can't stand her living arrangement. She wants to sell everything† and move back here. She has major health issues but can't get it together to submit her application for Medi-Cal. She says she really needs to know that I care about her.

Oh, for fuck's sake! I keep thinking about all the times I've reached out to show support but my efforts have gone unacknowledged. (I don't know why, exactly, but this one remains a bur under my saddle.) 

I responded as I always do. "Get yourself healthy. If you need help paying for therapy, let me know. Don't even think about coming back here because you'll still hate the weather and miss your cousin. Instead of searching for a new boyfriend, try to make friends."

Her response was a slap in the face. She doesn't want "a boyfriend," she wants someone to care about. She then attached a self-serving list of all the people she has "taken care of" during her adult life. They were all either her family or the family of men she's been involved with (I'd call them "fucks" and "fuck adjacent.") None were friends. Yet here I am, a mere friend, and she expects me to prove that I "care?"

Also, that list of people she's taken care was quite a re-write of history. More than one person she named extended themselves mightily for her, not the other way around, and at least two provided her with a roof over her head. When the person you're talking to doesn't share your reality, it's hard to find common ground.

My oldest friend lives in Hesperia, 90 minutes away from LA. I didn't invite her Wednesday night's dinner with me and her daughter because the logistics are beyond me. I only have about three hours to spend that evening – after all, my festival festivities begin Thursday morning – and I don't drive. 

Her daughter said she would get her mother there. But now I don't want to see her mother at all. I'm too angry.

Here's the push-pull of it all. I have known my oldest friend since Kindergarten. More than 60 years. I have loved her and have so many dear memories. So much laughter. So many treasured moments.

But for the last 15 years, this relationship has been hideously unbalanced. I feel an obligation to her and the times we shared, so I do what I can. 

But dammit! I'm sick of her drama! I've waited all year for this film festival – and with the Paramount deal, it may be the last one – and I resent her for throwing shade over it. I know she's bipolar, I know she's unhealthy. I'm sorry all of this is happening to her.

Still, there's a limit to how much I can give when I get so precious little in return.

 

*Gotta take care of #4 today. 

†This is stupid. She was evicted from her last apartment over unpaid rent and her car was repossessed.  

Sunday Stealing

Five Things You Didn't Want to Know but I'm Telling You Anyway

1) Has anyone ever told you they would love you forever? No. Unless it was my mom, I don't think I'd believe it anyway.

 

2) Who is the last person you were in the car with? The LYFT driver. I believe my most recent ride was home from the grocery store. I was heavily laden and my ankle is bothering me so I took the easy way.

 

3) Do you have big plans for tomorrow (Monday)? Not really. I have to work at the card shop tomorrow and I don't feel like it. (Waaah! I'm so lazy and whiny.)

4) How long do you typically spend in the shower? I can spend a lot of time in there. I enjoy my morning shower.

 

5) What were you doing at 7 AM yesterday (Saturday)? I was awake but still in bed, watching The Today Show.

 

Saturday 9

 
Saturday 9: Good (1995)

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

1) This song begins with a guy realizing he's home alone. Do you enjoy being all by yourself? Yes. It rejuvenates me.

2) He watches the sun throwing shadows on the floor. Which room in your home lets in the most sun? The living room with its big, west-facing windows.

3) He sings that he may write a letter to his ex. If you were inspired to send someone a handwritten message, do you have stationery or notecards on hand? What about first-class postage stamps? Yes. I like writing letters and sending cards. BTW, one of the things I like best about Downton Abbey is how everyone is always getting important news via handwritten letter.

4) This week's band, Better Than Ezra, got their start in Baton Rouge. All the members attended LSU and played their first gig at Murphy's, a bar near campus. When you were in your early 20's, where did you and your friends go to socialize? Monk's Pub on Lake and Wells under the el tracks. I'm glad it's still there and just as divey as ever, giving a new generation a place to misspend their hours after work.

   

5) While the band refuses to disclose the origin of their name, many assume the "Ezra" they refer to is poet Ezra Pound. Do you often read poetry? Nope.

6) In 1995, when this song was popular, Michael Jordan "unretired" and returned to the Chicago Bulls. Tell us about a decision you wish you could undo. Nothing big. I just wish I'd taken better care of my teeth years ago. I'd be a healthier, wealthier woman today.

7) Also in 1995, Phoebe Buffay first performed "Smelly Cat." Do you recall what show she sang on? Friends.

8) Legendary New York Yankee Mickey Mantle died in 1995. How is your team doing so far this young baseball season? For the first two weeks of the season, I was resigned to mediocrity. Then BAM! Pitchers came off the injured list and the bats woke up. And will you just look at this! We're in first place and have won 10 in a row! I love the Cubs win or lose, but I gotta admit, winning is better.

 

9) Random question: What's in your garage, besides your car (lawn tools, holiday decorations, old paint cans, etc.)? I don't have a garage, which is probably a good thing because I'm sure I would fill it with crap. I seem destined to clutter.

 

The tiny center of my universe

My cat Connie is only 6.5 lbs. Yet she has dominated everything this month. Making her well has been my sole focus.

She had surgery on April 2. Since she received stitches, she had to wear the cone, I couldn't let her roam around the condo when I wasn't watching. She could get stuck or slip out of it. Also, she had to stay very clean, and left to their own devices cats can slip into the dustiest part of the house you just can't reach. So when I wasn't home or was asleep, Connie was locked in the bathroom for her own safety. She's such a sweet, adaptable girl! She never cried. She just made do with her makeshift litter pan (a shirt box I lined with a small trash bag) and her water dish (a Lean Cuisine tray, because it was shallow and wide to accommodate her cone). I kept her carrier in my bathtub because cats like small spaces and I thought she might like go in there to sleep. I enjoyed our special "girl time" together before bed, when I'd slather on moisturizer, brush my teeth and put in my mouth guard. 

It was also in the bathroom that she got her meds. I squirted two different liquids down her throat – an antibiotic and a painkiller. Then I had to apply ointment to an area which was an assault to her dignity and mine. Yet she never resisted. I think on some level she trusted that I was trying to make her well.

On April 18, the vet finally removed the stitches and declared her well. No more meds! No more cone! No more time in solitary confinement in the bathroom! There was much rejoicing.

I'm grateful. Grateful that it wasn't more serious. Grateful that I had the resources to get her the medical attention she needed. Grateful to get my bathroom back! Grateful that she's well in time for me to go to the TCM Film Festival next week. Grateful that she is her sweet little self again.

Most of all, I'm grateful to be able to sleep soundly again. People with human children – how do they do it? Do they just reconcile themselves to worrying for 18 to 21 years?