Now pretend my shrink is talking to hers

I realized earlier this week that, during our long phone conversation, my oldest friend was parroting phrases from her shrink. Example: "I trust there is good in the universe." Really? That's something I've never heard her say in almost six decades of friendship. I did often hear her say, "People are no damn good." But not, "I trust there is good in the universe." Yes, it was annoying to hear her speak in such an inauthentic way. But she suffers from bipolar disorder, so it was also comforting that she's seeing a therapist and taking the advice to heart.

I see a shrink, too, and I channeled mine this week when I dealt with a conflict my friend and I had. A couple weeks ago, I volunteered for the local library book sale. I picked up a pair of DVDs for my friend. Films starring two of her longest-standing crushes: Tom Selleck and William Shatner. Not a big deal, but I knew they would make her smile. I packed them up, took them to the post office, and sent them off to her in Hesperia, California. 

My friend reported that the package had been received by another tenant of the property they share. Days later I texted, asking her if she got the package and she responded she had, no further comment.

On the phone, I asked her if she opened the package yet. "No," she said blithely. "I can see it from here but I haven't opened it. You know me and mail."

Well, actually, no I don't. Does she now routinely let her mail stack up? I know she's had money problems and in the past put off paying her bills, but she couldn't possibly have confused my little giftie with an invoice. 

The whole, "You know me and mail" thing really hurt my feelings. I'd be doing other things and it would pop into my head. 

I know I would never treat a gift as cavalierly as she treated mine. I am very careful of her feelings, too, because of her condition. I don't think she gives me as much care or thought, and it hurts.

On the other hand, allowances must be made. She is broken. She didn't choose to be bipolar.

This morning, four full days since our call, I texted her about the package again. Again she told me she hadn't gotten to it. "You know me and mail!"

I know what my shrink would say to me. She'd remind me that I am in this relationship, too. That even though it's uncomfortable I should let my friend know how I feel. "But she's broken!" I would say to my shrink if she were here. "She deserves compassion!"

"You can do both: You can stand up for yourself and still forgive her." That's what I imagine my shrink would say. 

And so I did it: I texted my oldest friend that my feelings were hurt. That here I happily collected, packaged and mailed those DVDs to her and she treats merely opening the envelope like a chore. I said I felt silly.

She told me not to feel that way. She explained that what she hadn't said was that she was saving the package for when she feels "blue" and needs a lift. Then she will settle down with a cup of tea and open it. 

Oh, well then! 

Does this make sense to me? No. But then I don't I live with the specter of crippling depression around every corner, either.

Maybe in the future, we should save time by just having our shrinks talk to each other. I imagine mine as the one on the right. 

Photo by Toa Heftiba on Unsplash

Thursday Thirteen #319

Thirteen facts about Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis. She's my all-time idol. She lived her life on her own terms and though she had to be aware that just about everyone on earth had an opinion of her, she didn't seem to let that get in her way. She prevailed over unimaginable tragedy endured with the whole world watching. She was smart and gave this young Gal a high profile example that smart was a great thing to be.

And so, in honor of her July 28th birthday, I celebrate her here.

1. Jacqueline Lee Bouvier was born late during one of South Hampton's hottest Julys of the decade. So not only were her parents excited about the arrival of their first child, her mother was eager for her uncomfortable pregnancy to finally be over.

2. She attended the best schools: Holton-Arms, Miss Porter's, and Vassar, with a year abroad at the Sorbonne before graduating from George Washington University. After her marriage, she continued her education by taking classes in American history at Georgetown University. 

3. Jackie uniformly got good grades but she could be a behavior problem. When she was a little girl she grew bored in class and got in trouble for the ways she amused herself. As a teen at boarding school, she was not especially scrupulous about observing curfews.

4. John Kennedy always admired his wife's affinity for language. By the time she graduated college, she was fluent in French, Spanish and Italian. She "got by" in German and Greek and could read Latin. JFK admitted he was "hopeless" when it came to foreign tongues.

5. She was named the Debutante of the Year in 1947. More than pretty, she was heralded for her unique personal style. Considered "something of a bohemian," she bought her gown (gasp!) off the rack and frankly stated that her life's ambition was "not to be a housewife." When her classmates and sister debs were getting married, she took off for Europe. She was usually accompanied by family friends or her stepbrother, but was not afraid to wander off on her own. Her reminisces about her adventures in post-War Europe entertained world leaders when she was First Lady.

6. After graduation she lived on her own in DC, supporting herself as a columnist at The Washington Times-Herald. She was The Inquiring Camera Girl and hauled a camera around the Capitol, asking strangers questions like: How much do you tip at the barber shop or beauty parlor? Should men wear wedding rings? Are men braver than women in the dentist's chair? Should a woman consider a wolf whistle a compliment? Her salary was about $2700/year (approx. $30,000 in today's dollars). 

7.  As First Lady, she was committed to promoting the arts and culture.The American Ballet Theater, Pablo Casals and American Shakespeare Company all performed in The East Room of The White House. In 1962, she personally lobbied the French Minister of Cultural Affairs, Andre Malraux, to lend The Mona Lisa to the United States.

8. Jackie became the first First Lady to have her own signature project when she set about restoring the White House. She focused on "historical integrity," believing that everything in the White House public rooms had to have a reason for being there. The furniture and artwork must reflect the best of the People's House and American history. She was inspired by her travels around Europe in the late 1940s where, as Jackie Bouvier, she saw history on display in castles and great homes. She wanted Americans to take similar pride in our heritage. No dummy, she refused to use tax dollars for the restoration. That way her husband would receive less criticism and reap greater political benefits from her efforts. She raised funds by publishing The White House:  An Historic Guide (it's still updated regularly) and selling the rights to a televised tour of the the restored White House. To this day, she's the only First Lady to have won an Emmy Award. (Michelle Obama and Hillary Clinton both won Grammy Awards for the narrations of the books they wrote as First Lady, but only Jackie had an Emmy.)

9. She did preliminary sketches for the design of Air Force One that's still familiar to us today.  More than a luxury plane, Jackie wanted Air Force One to be a tool of diplomacy. Rather than the deep blue of the flag, she chose the lighter robin's egg shade, believing it to be friendlier and less intimidating as it carried our President to foreign shores

10. Her appreciation of the visual, her love of history, and the power of her celebrity came together in the 1970s when she fought to save Grand Central Station from demolition. Then a private citizen, but the most famous woman in the world, she raised funds and even participated in a public demonstration to bring attention to the architectural jewel in peril. She used her estimable political connections to persuade top lawyers to file a lawsuit that argued knocking down Grand Central was a violation of New York's preservation laws. The subsequent court ruling has been cited as precedent in saving other beautiful old buildings from the wrecking ball.

The Main Entrance still bears her name

 

11. She also successfully battled a paparazzi in court. Ron Galella took many of the most familiar -- and often most beautiful -- unposed pictures of Jackie Onassis in Greece, London and New York. It wasn't the content of the photos at the heart of the suit, it was the lengths he went to get them. He tracked her like a deer, jumping out of bushes, crouching behind store counters and hiding in restaurant coat racks to take his shot. More than once he made physical contact with her, flicking her with the strap of his camera bag and calling her, "Baby." Through all their encounters she remained inscrutable, though personally she felt assaulted. She sued Galella and won: the judge ordered him to stay 25 feet away from her. Knowing she was willing to litigate discouraged other photographers from filling the void left by Galella. I wish Princess Diana had taken a similar attitude toward the paparazzi, instead of the cat-and-mouse games she played. If she had, perhaps she would be alive today.

12. After the death of her second husband, she found herself a widow with teenaged children. Though a very wealthy woman (her inheritance from Onassis would be more than $140 million today), Jackie wanted to return to "working with words," as she had after college. She took an associate editor job at Viking Press, made her way through the ranks and eventually earned the title of editor at Doubleday. As with most of us, she did work she was immensely proud of (like The Random House Book of Twentieth-Century French Poetry) and some projects purely to please her employer (Michael Jackson's memoir). She was still employed at the time of her death at age 64.

13. Though she privately referred to much of what's been written about the Kennedy family as "the river of sludge," she seldom commented on it. She chose to rise above. Her approach to the media was to provide "minimum information with maximum politeness." Again, I wish Princess Diana (and now Prince Harry) had borrowed a page from her playbook. It took tremendous steel for Jackie to refuse Oprah and Barbara Walters (both of whom referred to her as their "No. 1 Get") or publish her own memoir, to make herself heard and tell her side. She resisted not just out of dignity but long-term strategic thinking. She maintained her self-respect and her mystique and, by saying nothing, has the eternal the last word.

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

A two-hour smile

Monday I was feeling a little bit "at sea." I had nothing that needed to be done. I'd even vacuumed! (OK, I probably should have scrubbed the kitchen floor, too, but I didn't feel like it.) So I decided to take advantage of my neighborhood. Everything is nearby, so I couldn't use the heat as an excuse for staying in. I scurried around the corner to see an old friend: Barbie.

To say I loved Barbie would be an understatement. It made me smile for two solid hours. What a gift that is! Greta Gerwig made a movie that wisely, affectionately recalls the world we each created when we played Barbies. Every day for our Barbie was a great day. She could be anything our imaginations allowed. She had all her own stuff -- car, house, clothes -- and depended on no one for money. As the movie points out, Ken only has a great day if Barbie notices him. It's true. My Ken stayed in the case forever and only came out when my Barbie storyline required him.

There's also Weird Barbie. She's the funny-looking Barbie who was played with too hard, too often, by a rough little girl. But Weird Barbie is brilliant and gifted, too, because she spent so much intense time with her little girl. 

The Barbie World sets are gorgeous. Pink, but gorgeous. The Real World is so disappointing in comparison. Kinda like Dorothy, Kansas and Oz, but in reverse. I caught little things that were a nod to The Wizard of Oz (a pink brick road, Dorothy on a poster at the Barbie World movie theater ...) and that's just so Greta Gerwig. She's a TCM movie fan who has always acknowledged her debt to the filmmakers came before.

It also got me thinking about my own Barbie. She was brunette and looked just like this. (I didn't choose her, she was a wonderful gift from Santa.) My Barbie ran a record store. I made it myself. I took a record club advertisement and carefully cut out the album covers. I pasted them to the walls of a big box my dad brought home from work. That's how she met Paul McCartney. Barbie would get dressed and get into her car to meet him for their date. Then she would come home and get on the phone and tell her best friend all about it. I never acted out the date because it would be insulting to Paul McCartney to be played by Ken. He was such a dweeb.

I found this record club ad online. "Big, Bad John" and "Moon River" date it as just before my Barbie's record store opened, but you get the idea. 

Now I want to play Barbies again! Who's with me?

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 can 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? Teammate by David Ross. As we head into August, when the trade deadline approaches and the pennant races tighten up, I'm all baseball all the time. This is the perfect book for me right now. 

David Ross was 38 when he landed in Chicago. Not many teams were clamoring for his services because he had a reputation for being a pain in the ass, not so much a has-been but a never-was. He was set to be the Cubs back-up catcher, playing maybe every 5 or 6 games when ace Jon Lester took the mound. He ended up being one of the motors that propelled the Cubs to the 2016 World Series and he even got a homer in the greatest game 7 of all time.

I'm not deep into this yet, but if he tells it well, Rossy has something to teach us about life beyond baseball. (Not that I care much about life beyond baseball right now.)

2. What did you recently finish reading? Eligible by Curtis Sittenfeld. 500 pages of fun. Yes, it's a retelling of Pride and Prejudice, and if you're familiar with Austen you'll recognize and know. But if the name "Darcy" means nothing to you, you'll still enjoy it.

Liz is the oldest of the five Bennet girls. Her dad tends the family fortune, makes rueful asides, and is, in his way, fighting to regain his health after a crisis. Mrs. Bennet is a social climber, impulse shopper, and a thoroughly silly woman. Liz' four sisters, all unmarried, are trying to shape their own identities and destinies. Dr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, a Stanford-educated neurosurgeon relocated to Cincinnati, is a sharp-eyed observer of everything around him.

Jane Austen was a product of her time and didn't have the fertile ground Sittenfeld does. From reality TV to cell phones to Keto, this book says something about our current lives but moving the story to our century. This isn't high art, but I had a great time with it.

 

3. What will read next? I don't know.

 

 

 

On the phone with my friend's therapist

OK, that's not literally true. I spent an hour on the phone with my oldest friend last night, and while she seemed peaceful and we laughed a lot, I noticed that much of our conversation sounded nothing like her. It sounded like I was talking to a collection of inspirational refrigerator magnets. 

"I trust that there is good in the universe."

"I wasted time worrying about what I can't control."

"I'm processing everything that happened.”

I was alternately annoyed and amused. It felt like I was talking to her shrink, when all I wanted was to talk to my friend.

But then I was happy. My oldest friend is bipolar, and at times I have been very, very worried that she hasn’t been consulting her shrink. Obviously, she’s now not only speaking to a mental health professional, she’s taking it to heart. 

Or “processing it.”

I believe that, for now, she’s in fake-it-till-you-make-it mode. And that’s fine. I love her very much and want her to be happy.

Call me Dusty

Since Anthony Rizzo slid into his slump, I've been wishing and hoping and thinking and praying his hitting would start. And Sunday, FINALLY, it did!

He is a good guy, a good teammate, a good ballplayer, and therefore only deserves good things. He's been working hard with the new hitting coach. Hopefully he'll start to reap the benefits.

Meanwhile, closer to home, my Cubs beat the Cardinals. Big! Handsome Dansby Swanson is back and red hot Cody Bellinger continues to power the boys in blue with his bat.

It was a fabulous day of baseball and did this old heart of mine good.

I don't feel like dealing with this

It started with a Facebook IM from Kathy. I saw it as soon as I woke up Thursday morning. She sent it pre-dawn. She included her phone number and said she had to talk to me. 

Kathy has serious cognitive issues, so I wasn't sure she meant it. Or that she was understood it was me she was communicating with. I told myself that sometime during the day I'd send her an email or comment on one of her innumerable Facebook posts (usually Snoopy or clips from America's Got Talent), just to reassure her that we're connected.

In the kitchen, I turned on my phone, which had been charging overnight.* There was a text from Kathy, asking me to please call her. She wanted us to set up a talk that evening. She wants me to call her to set up a time to talk? How does that make sense? 

Still, I figured she must be upset so I dialed. I was surprised she didn't pick up. After all, she had just texted and IM'd me. I left her a voicemail, explaining that I was having dental surgery Thursday afternoon and wouldn't feel like talking that night, but to call me back now if she wanted to talk.

She texted me immediately. Texted, not called. So she was there, listening to my voicemail. Why didn't she take the call the asked me to make?

The text said we'd talk "over the summer and have FuN." (Recently Kathy became a fan of random capitalization.)

That was Thursday.

Saturday night she left an oversized Facebook post for her kid sister. 

Kim S.: I do NOT do messenger! Call or email me. I have tried to reach you.

Um ... Kathy used Messenger to reach out to me on Thursday. Her sister responded that she doesn't use Messenger, either, and seemed confused by the public shout out. The tone between the sisters felt frustrated and contentious. 

Clearly something is bothering her. I asked our mutual friend John if he'd heard from her, and he said no but he didn't expect to. It's been months since they've communicated.

Kathy's sister Kim is in Washington State.  Her daughter lives in Colorado. I'm 60 miles away. Her son is nearer, but they've been estranged for years, and I don't think he knows how her mental capabilities have diminished. But Kathy is surrounded by family. Her adult grandchildren are nearby and involved with her -- they had a big family outing to The Brookfield Zoo a few weeks ago -- and they have keys to her apartment, so we don't to worry about her being that "I've fallen and I can't get up," Lady.

I feel like I ought to do something about whatever is upsetting her, but I don't know what. Obviously her sister Kim knows something is going on. Kathy doesn't want to talk to me. 

To compound all of this, my feelings about Kathy are very complicated. She can be very supportive. She can also be irresponsible and casually cruel. We have a tangled history but a long one (more than 40 years) and I want to honor that.

Most of all, I don't want this to be happening. I don't want to deal with this. My friend Henry is fading away quickly. My oldest friend is battling bipolar disorder. The cold, hard fact is that I love them more than I do Kathy. I feel I only have so much attention to give, and at the risk of sounding bitchy, I'd rather give it to Henry and my oldest friend.

And I'm recovering from a crown lengthening. I hate to be all woe-is-me, but it was kind of a big deal.

So I'm trying to let this go, but it's still leaving me feeling guilty.

 

 *I still have a landline, so if anyone had been trying to reach me they had a way.

 

Photo by Anthony Tran on Unsplash

Sunday Stealing

From Swap Bot 

Would you rather....

1. Live on a boat or in a treehouse? Boat

2. No computer use for a year or no sweets for a year? Sweets

3. Have $2,000 right now or be given $100 every month for the rest of your life? $100/month

4. Be an astronaut or an athlete? Athlete

5. Have 50 good friends or only one best friend? 50 good friends

6. Have bright blue teeth or bright blue hair? Bright blue hair

7. Have the power of flight or the power of invisibility? Power of flight

8. Have a fun friend who is snarky or a boring friend who is kind? Boring and kind

9. Be incredibly rich but without love or be poor but have a happy marriage? Poor but happy

10. Have a freezing cold shower every day or a pleasant hot shower once a week? This is the only hard one! Cold daily shower.

11. Be an only child or have many siblings? Many siblings

12. Quit video games forever or live in a desert for a month? Quit video games

13. Go on a one week trip to a foreign country of your choice or a month long trip in your own country? Month long vacation in New York City

14. Celebrate your birthday every day or go on your favorite holiday once a year? Once a year

15. If fish could talk, what would you ask them? "Do you ever hurt?" They have such tiny brains, I wonder if they process and feel pain.

Look who got a single!

Hopefully Anthony Rizzo's hitless streak is over. Judging by his reaction to landing on first base, I suspect I'm not the only one who petitioned the Lord for solid contact today. 

In other news, the Cubs prevailed over the (hiss!) Cardinals in an amazing see-saw game. And the Cubs spectacular radio play-by-play man, Pat Hughes, was inducted into the Hall of Fame.

What a day!

God I love baseball!

One week and $38 later

Yesterday I took my Social Security form to the UPS Store. There'd been no word from the postal service about that envelope's whereabouts. I've been so fixated on how vulnerable a missing form containing my address, signature and SSN makes me to identity theft that I rather forgot it meant that Social Security doesn't have my forms.

I certainly wasn't going back to my local post office. I'd spent $8.80 for Ground Advantage and got nothing (literally) for my pains. When I checked USPS Tracking all I kept seeing was that my envelope was "received" 7/14. No movement, no updates as to its whereabouts.

So I turned to the UPS Store. I printed a cover letter, explaining to the lucky Social Security bureaucrat who receives it that this form was a duplicate, the original lost in the mail. And, of course, a new version of the form for me to sign. And then, of course, I had to have it sent with tracking and recipient signature. Total: $38.36. 

But I'm already getting notices from UPS, letting me know where my package is every step of the way. So it was worth it.

Except for this: As of 10:44 this morning, my original envelope somehow turned up. After a week of languishing somewhere, it's on its way to the Social Security Office. 

On the one hand, I've now spent $47 for a form to travel 12 miles. Which sucks.

On the other hand, it's good news. After all, it means no one is using my SSN to obtain a fake passport or a lease on a Ford Explorer from a dealership in Rancho Cucamonga. And that's not small.

Saturday 9

You'd Be So Nice To Come Home To (1943)

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

 
1) In this song, Dinah Shore goes on about listening to the breeze. Is it windy, breezy, or still where you are today? It's pretty still.

 

2) The August moon is bright in Dinah's musical fantasy. Let's look at your calendar. Is anything special coming up in August (birthdays, anniversaries, vacation getaways ...)? Classic film murder, mystery and mayhem at The Music Box.

 

3) Dinah was one of TV's pioneers. Her first show was a 15-minute variety show that ran two nights/week in 1951. What's the most recent show you watched? I'm watching a Dick Van Dyke Show rerun as I answer these questions. I'm enjoying it thoroughly.

4) She followed that in 1956 with the Dinah Shore Chevy Show. It was an hour long and sponsored by the car company. At the end of every show Dinah encouraged her viewers to "see the USA in your Chevrolet ..." Today Chevrolets are still the most popular cars manufactured by General Motors. Tell us about your car. No car

5) From 1970 to 1991, Dinah hosted daytime TV talk shows and found tremendous success, winning 6 Emmy Awards and repeatedly appearing in the Gallup Poll of America's most admired women. Do you remember her? Yes. I'm sure she was a lovely lady, but I didn't get her show at all. Too much cooking and grandma music. (Of course, now the music I like is considered grandma music, so ...)

 

6) Dinah was such an avid golfer that, in 1972, she founded one of the LPGA's major tournaments. Though now officially titled The Chevron Championship, it's still often referred to as "The Dinah Shore" in her memory. Do you golf? If not, would you like to learn? Nope. It looks like I'd need to buy a lot of accoutrement and I have enough stuff around here.

7) In 1943, when "You'd Be So Nice To Come Home To" was popular, so were tablecloths. It was common to have cotton tablecloths for everyday use, fun and festive ones for 4th of July and Christmas, and linen for formal occasions. Do you use tablecloths in your home? Nope. I've been known to use a Bounty paper towel as a placemat. I'm a very low-brow kinda gal.

 

8) Beatle George Harrison was born in 1943. Which of the Fab Four is your favorite? If you have to ask, you don't come here often.

 

9) Random question: Would you rather live on a houseboat or in a trailer? I'm told that houseboats are never still very long and can be smelly, and yet, I'd still like to try it.

A few quarts low on compassion

Let me preface this by saying Twitter is a hellscape. So I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that cruel memes about Hunter Biden's drug addiction are the order of the day. The thing that saddens me, though, is how many of the meme-makers and meme-spreaders are self-proclaimed Christians.

Addiction is a disease, not a character flaw. Would these same Trump supporters mock Hunter Biden if he had a physical disability? Maybe. After all, it didn't bother them when their candidate made fun of reporter Serge Kovaleski. Apparently among these particular Christians, mocking the afflicted is a real knee-slapper.

If addiction hasn't touched you personally, you're lucky. It's estimated that 20.4 million Americans abuse alcohol, illicit drugs or prescription medication. Each of those 20.4 million Americans is someone's relative, friend, or neighbor. Do the math. A shit-ton of our fellow citizens are coping with this in a very real way. If you're not among them, maybe instead of stigmatizing Hunter Biden you should say a little prayer that your loved ones have been spared.

When I went to Sunday School, I was taught that "whatever you did for the least of our brothers and sisters, you did for me." I don't understand how making fun of someone with an illness fits with that. I guess instead of the Book of Matthew, their New Testament has The Book of Schadenfreude.

I will be so very grateful and relieved when Trump's grip on my countrymen and my faith is loosened.

Five days and still no word

I hate the postal service. There's a form I had to return to Social Security. It has to be returned by mail -- no downloading, no fax. Naturally, since it's regarding Social Security, it includes my SSN.

I was uncomfortable mailing this. So instead of dropping it into a mailbox, I took it to the post office. I handed it to a clerk, who said it was going Ground Advantage. For $8.80, it would travel the 12 miles from my neighborhood to the local Social Security Office and would arrive in 2-5 business days. A signature would be required upon receipt. I had a tracking number.

Here we are, five days later, and according to USPS Tracking, my envelope has just been "received." There is no record of it moving from my local post office.

I called the #800 on the receipt. I said, "My envelope has been lost or stolen, hasn't it?"

No, I was told. It's likely just not been scanned for some reason. It's probably on its way.

Probably.

I was given a "case number" and was advised to call again Monday.

I called the Social Security office and asked if it had been received. Not yet. The representative I spoke to was exceptionally nice and understanding and told me they flagged my name/number and will call me if/when the envelope is delivered.

But here's the thing: my SSN, address and signature are floating around out there somewhere. Yes, I am certain I will be the victim of identity fraud because of this.

I am very, very stressed by this.

The Girl with the British Dunhill Lighter

I just had the caulk around my tub replaced. It was a rather delicate procedure because I have a tub liner. But now it's done and I'm a happy gal. I love my time in the shower and that black-spotted caulk was a sad way to start the day.

When the handyman was telling me the rules of the road of maintaining the new caulk I could hear my friend Henry's voice in my head. Before his 2018 accident, he loved doing his own work around the house. He knew The Home Depot on Roosevelt in Key West the way I know my local Target store.

He became proficient with bathtubs back in 2001. Sick of renting but not yet able to afford a house, he bought a trailer home. His partner, Reg, was not eager about it. He didn't like the idea of being "trailer trash" and besides, this particular trailer was in disrepair, which is how Henry was able to afford it. So here's where they netted out: They would continue living in the home they were renting until Henry was able to get the trailer "livable," by Reg's standards. Henry was teaching at the community college so his schedule was unconventional. When he wasn't working at school, he'd race over and work a bit on the trailer. 

While this was going on, Reg met a new friend at the hotel where he worked. I'll call her Jane. She was a Brit who had just moved to Key West. The room that she rented wasn't working out. Reg told her about the trailer and said she could stay there until she found a new room. Yes, she knew she'd have Henry hammering around her at all hours. Yes, she'd have to live out of her suitcase. No, she couldn't cook (no stove yet). But she'd have running water, lights and a refrigerator. She had a safe place to lay her air mattress for a couple weeks.

After Henry replaced the grout and caulk around the tub, he left a note on bathroom door, telling Jane not to use the  shower for 48 hours. This was 2001, so texting wasn't yet a thing. But he wrote another note with the same instructions and dropped it off at the hotel where Jane and Reg worked. Henry and Reg discussed it -- Reg would reiterate this to Jane and she could wash her hair and handle her personal hygiene at the bathroom sink for the next day or two. Reg said he was pretty sure if Jane asked housekeeping nicely, they'd let her use a hotel bath before they cleaned the room. So they had a plan. 

Except that, when Henry returned to the trailer the next day, he could tell she had used the shower. Reg pleaded with Henry not to confront her and swore he'd handle it. I don't know how it was resolved. But, by the time I arrived in Key West for New Year's, Henry and Reg were settled into the trailer and Jane had her own place.

It was the holiday season and Jane came by for a drink so I got to meet her. She had an adorable accent and I really wanted to like her. But ...

She had just flown back to Key West from NYC, where she'd spent Christmas with friends. And, oh! How she squawked about airport security! It took forever and they took her expensive lighter away. 

Think back: this was just less than four months after 9/11. She was going to the city where the Twin Towers had fallen. Maybe because she wasn't American, she didn't understand what a heartbreaking violation that was. But I couldn't bear it. After all, I had just flown from O'Hare to Miami to Key West. I'd seen the TSA signs at the airports and at that point, lighters and matches were not allowed. I pointed that out to her.

"But it was a British Dunhill Lighter!" Jane exclaimed. "And I'm not a terrorist." 

I drained my drink and bit my tongue. Reg really liked Jane and I didn't want to make the party tense. 

On the way to my hotel, when we were alone, Henry said he could read my mind. "You think Jane is insensitive and racist." 

"Yes," I admitted. "She's obviously not a terrorist because she's a little white blonde girl and her lighter is expensive." I added that it was immoral for her to give the TSA grief when we were all just trying to find our way in this post-9/11 world.

Henry went on to say that she was "entitled," one of the first times I'd heard the word in this context. He explained that here she was, a barmaid with no home, and he and Reg gave her a safe place to live when she needed one desperately. Even though Henry is highly educated (a professor at the college!), he is also gay and Puerto Rican. Therefore she felt comfortable ignoring his request about the shower.  He told me she probably felt it was similarly beneath her to ask the mostly brown-skinned girls in housekeeping at the hotel for help. Clearly TSA rules applied to others, not to her (or her British Dunhill Lighter).

"In Key West we believe in the human family," he said. "I do not think she will be happy here."

By the end of 2002, when I returned to Key West, she'd left Key West and neither Henry nor Reg knew what became her.

Henry was right. I miss him. So much.

Thursday Thirteen #318

Thirteen benefits to seeing a chiropractor. It's estimated that 65 million Americans suffer from back pain. I'm one of them. When my back gets tight and uncomfortable, I call on my chiropractor. It's improved my quality of life tremendously.

As with anything, there are good chiropractic practitioners and not-so-good ones. Also, we're each individual, and what worked for me may not work for you. 

But life's too short to live with pain if it can be avoided or alleviated.  So if any of these 13 points resonate with you, perhaps you should consider chiropractic treatment.

1.   Headaches: Adjustments may reduce the frequency or help prevent them altogether.

2.   High blood pressure: Regular adjustments may help lower your levels. 

3.   Back and neck pain: If you're stiff and sore when you wake up in the morning or rise from a chair, adjustments may help.

4.   Surgery prevention: Adjustments may be able to prevent or delay the need for back, neck, or knee surgery.

5.   Colic and ear infections: Careful adjustments have helped babies.

6.   Athletic performance: Weekend warriors report adjustments improved their ability to bike, throw, or run.

7.   Better posture: Regular adjustments are especially important for office workers as it can help you sit up straight at your workstation.

8.   Neurological conditions: Patients with ongoing neurological conditions, like multiple sclerosis, have improved their quality of life by regularly seeing a chiropractor.

9. Sciatica: By adjusting your spine to a functional state, you may reduce the regular shooting pain. (Mine was in my right calf and thigh.)

10. Range of motion: Adjustments can help increase flexibility and range of motion in the joints.

11. Reliance on medication: By reducing pain, adjustments can help you reduce the NSAIDs you take each day.

12. Immune system: Adjustments promote a healthy nervous system, which can result in a more robust immune system response.

13. Sleep quality: Pain interferes with sleep, so adjustments can bring a more restful night's sleep

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