Saying Good-Bye (Part 1 of 1)

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The world has recently and collectively experienced the loss of several amazing celebrities. As we learned of each passing we were immediately hit with yet another death announcement and sometimes that person was of even greater popularity so that the previous person was left without a proper send-off. Or so it seemed. I don’t think we were being cruel but being a celebrity is a popularity game even in death. Karl Malden and Ed McMahon, for example, did not receive the proper send-off they would have had they not been overshadowed by Farrah and Michael. And it just kept coming, most recently as of this writing, Walter Cronkite.

During this same exact period three deaths occurred in my circle of friends. I know that is the case with hundreds of thousands of other people around the world. Our TVs were blaring with the loss bombardment of our great celebrities and at the same time many of us were dealing with the loss of our own family and friends.

Sometimes loss is handled well, as painful as it may be, by those left behind. If loved ones and friends have lived long, full lives, doing what they enjoyed doing, it is sad but manageable for family and friends when their loved ones die. We know that’s the way of life. Those of us with religious beliefs receive some comfort knowing our loved ones are going to a better place—depending on their behavior on the earthly plane (with a last minute request for forgiveness if time allows).

Humans are the only creatures on the planet that know they are going to die. Other animals instinctively try not to get injured but they do not know death is coming. They simply have an instinct to protect themselves. Humans are also a mostly cautious species and we try our best to drive safely, look around when we are out and about for signs of danger, and some of us avoid ladders and black cats. Whatever we do as we go through life, tucked away in the back of our brains is the “warning” light keeping us safe. That light doesn’t work well with terminal illness that creeps up on us, but we do have things we can do even then to prevent some of the nasty illnesses from stalking us like hungry tigers.

Wild animals go through life looking for food and seeking safe shelter. They are aware of death on a very primitive level either caused by them (predators) or they find themselves on the receiving end (prey). Sometimes they observe the death of members of their society. How they process that information is more of a warning about their own safety. Some are distressed at the loss of an offspring or mate because of their strong instinct to maintain the species, perhaps even sad according to some studies. Loss is a powerful emotion. Elephants come to mind as possibly one other species that may understand, to some extent, when it is time to die. I recall a few documentaries about whales as well. Sometimes a wounded or sick animal goes off to hide and die but some theories suggest they go off to recover and/or to be safe when vulnerable.

Over my 64 years I have experienced many deaths of family and friends and celebrities. That daunting experience increases as we age and with each loss we take pause to look at our own lives and wonder about our own mortality. I have always had a realistic and comfortable outlook on my eventual passing, but prefer to be in my 90s, in bed, with a Margarita in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

Blissfully, I believe, a friend of mine recently did die in bed. My grandmother always said that’s what she wanted and at 91 she almost made it but instead she had to be hospitalized and spent an uncomfortable number of months dying and hating being there and begging to go home. This was very difficult for my grandmother and even more difficult for her daughter, my mother. I always hated that she couldn’t have had her wish to die in bed. Don’t we all. But my friend did just that a few weeks ago and we were all weirdly comforted. We thought he might die at work because he loved to be at work and we didn’t want that for him or for his coworkers. We wanted private peace and dignity for him because he was a man of peace and dignity and a great presence in the world.

Next, another friend, who was a dear companion to one of my childhood friends, died away from home and in fact, in another state. He became ill, was taken to a hospital, and died, all within a relatively short period of time, far away from his cozy home. He had a wonderful little place surrounded by trees and shrubs and winding paths here in California. Why couldn’t he have died there? How we end is more painful for our family and friends than the actual passing. A peaceful passing under the right circumstances and in the right place eases mourning to a great extent. My dad was only 38 when he died after a long, agonizing stay in a hospital like my grandmother. No one wants that. 

And finally, the third loss in my life at the very same time as the celebrities and two friends—the passing of a friend’s little dog of ten years. I knew this dog from the time she was a puppy when she joined my friend’s family. For those of us who love and lose pets, it is a painful ordeal. At the beginning, the expectation of fewer years to be with our beloved pets does help a little at the end. We know we will only have them for a few years when we sign on, but sometimes pets are taken too young, just like humans. Ten years wasn’t long enough for this little dog whose life expectancy for her breed is longer than that. However, she succumbed to cancer and it’s hard to beat cancer at any age--for humans too. She was lucky because she was able to die at home with her family and with the kind attention of a mobile veterinarian. Humans are not so lucky.

I’ve spent a lot of time these past few weeks thinking of all of those human and non-human family and friends who have gone before me and I’m sad for all of us. I’ll snap out of it because I have to and because these passings are inevitable. All we can do is live a good life, hug our family, friends, and pets, and when we one day leave them, know we made them happy.

“Let us endeavuor so to live that when we come to die even the undertaker will be sorry.” Mark Twain

www.sharonstrawhandgarner.com

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The Fourth Fizzle (1 of 1)

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When I was a little girl the 4^th of July was magical. My dad always purchased a large quantity of explosives and dozens of sparklers, my personal favorite, and off we’d go into the middle of the street with all the other families. It was exciting to be outside in the dark but the thrill of the fireworks was magical.

My favorite recollection of those evenings was placing a sparkler between each of my fingers, clamping my hands into fists, and then running around the street with all the other kids. We were running with sharp objects pointed at other children of all ages (including toddlers), and these sharp objects were on fire. The little sparks themselves did not hurt but if we were careless, and we always were, we often came in contact with the burning end that produced the pretty sparks and there would be screaming and crying and racing mothers. Most kids only ran with one in each hand but I had figured out my clever finger crevice placement and so I was the sparkler girl of the neighborhood.

Throughout the evening the dads all took turns lighting their little displays. Some of the fireworks were “legal” and some were not. I do not recall the regulatory issues at that time but even then cherry bombs were illegal and I believe firecrackers were illegal. But we had them and many other amazing fireworks that were just beautiful. The older kids often helped their dads set them off and every year we would read in the paper about missing fingers, eyes, hands, and so forth. It never happened in our neighborhood except for the sparkler nubs and one small fire in the orchard across the street. One of the dads put it out quickly and the festivities resumed. We just moved further down the street. You know, away from the orchard but closer to the houses. Made sense at the time. I think.

As time went by that tradition slowly changed. Up until several years ago in my own adult neighborhood I could still see a few neighbors outside their homes with kids doing the “safe and sane” fireworks kits sold at charity booths, but for the last few years I haven’t seen that anywhere near where I live. It’s illegal here for any fireworks but it didn’t stop many families until the last few years. I do hear the occasional cherry bomb or bottle rocket or firecracker (and gun shots), but each year it’s less and less. My first year in this house, fourteen years ago, a few neighbors met outside for a very small display. That’s the last neighborhood display we’ve had.

This past 4^th of July was the most boring of any I have ever experienced. Most municipalities canceled their public fireworks celebrations held in fairgrounds or parking lots due to the expense because of our current economy. For many years with the decline in personal family neighborhood displays we at least had the wonderful fireworks put on by our towns and cities. This year we still had parades, but a few of those were canceled as well due to our sad economy. 

That said, I’m actually relieved. As an adult I have worried about fires from the careless handling of neighborhood displays. And we have all heard the horror stories of homes being destroyed and people being injured or even dying. I know we can’t protect every aspect of our lives and eliminate all things that are fun but as a society we do seem to grow up together and fire prevention is a wise public decision. 

It’s sort of like Halloween. What a joyous event that was as a child. But with the advent of commuting parents, weird people putting stuff in candy, and other activities families are involved in, I see Halloween, as I knew it, disappearing too. Many families have parties now and that seems a fun and sensible way to go. I think.

Yet, each year the week before Halloween I decorate my house and windows with flashing scary lights. Last Halloween I raced home, turned on my monster lights, set up my chair and bowl of candy by the front door, put on my aluminum fright wig, locked my dog and cats in my office, and waited. I didn’t get a single child. Trick-or-Treaters have been coming in smaller numbers for years now and last year not one child. In the past few years the number has gotten so low that I was eating way too much candy over the next few days after Halloween. Last year I wisely bought candy I don’t like and sure enough, no kids. Had I purchased chocolate I’d have gone into diabetic shock.

So Halloween has changed and the 4^th of July has changed. Neither change is necessarily bad. In fact, I look at these changes as evolving into something better. I think.

www.sharonstrawhandgarner.com

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MICHAEL JACKSON R.I.P. (1 of 1)

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Around the late ‘50s, early ‘60s, my grandmother learned that Eddie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds were getting a divorce. She was used to celebrity divorces but she was sad because she liked the attractive couple. Soon after the news broke it was learned that the reason for the divorce was: Elizabeth Taylor. In that time period, and before, there was a substantial amount of celebrity gossip available if fans wanted to find it. There were “movie” magazines, newspaper columns by Hedda Hopper and Louella Parsons, and the occasional mention on talk shows and newsreels at the movies before the cartoons. However, most publicists were paid huge sums to keep their clients out of the press when scandals erupted. Scandals of the magnitude of the Fisher/Reynolds/Taylor level could not be “handled.” How much was true and how much was fiction we will never know.

Publicists made up stories about their clients and staged events. Rock Hudson had a marriage forced on him to prevent the public from finding out he was gay. It’s hard to believe today but it worked. No one knew for years about Rock’s secret except Hollywood insiders and fans with tenacious methods for learning about their favorites. The average person didn’t know much except what they learned in the mainstream media. A controlled scandal was much better than an uncontrolled mess. There were certainly plenty of those but unless you were a hardcore fan the average person did not know too much about celebrity dirty laundry. Just the pretty stuff and fancy clothes.

So when my grandmother learned of this terrible divorce, in her opinion caused solely by Elizabeth Taylor, as though Eddie Fisher had nothing to do with it, she announced she hated Elizabeth Taylor. For the remainder of her 91 years she hated Elizabeth Taylor. While reading her morning paper if she came across an advertisement about a movie starring Ms. Taylor, my grandmother would make shocking and rude comments. Some of the comments contained Portuguese profanity so that I wouldn’t understand. Of course, I understood perfectly well having heard her bilingual and oddly endearing diatribes from birth.

As I mentioned in an earlier blog, I try very hard to NOT learn about the personal lives of celebrities. Today, however, it’s almost impossible to totally avoid this gossip. We know so many things about them, true or not, that it’s as though we know them personally. We can literally find out the shoe size of our favorite movie star. We can go to eBay and purchase items they have used (ew). There are entire TV programs devoted to news about celebrities and some are absolutely horrific in detail. TMZ comes to mind as possibly the worst television celebrity “news” program I have ever watched. I had to watch it a few times recently because of research for a future blog on “reality television” I’m preparing. In fact, I’ve had to watch a number of programs that just made me stare into space in disbelief. I almost considered not doing the blog because of the appalling research I’ve had to endure but I’m too far into it now. I’m not sure when it will be ready for posting because the topic of reality (ugh) TV is disgusting. 

When it comes to super stardom, unless we never leave our homes and rid ourselves of our newspapers, magazines, computers, TVs, and radios, we WILL hear about celebrities. It is unavoidable. However, few celebrities ever reach the heights of a Michael Jackson. Some come close in gossip mongering like Jennifer/Brad/Angelina, O.J., Paris Hilton, Britney Spears, etc. But Michael was an entity unto himself.  

Our family was besotted with Michael from the time he was a little boy. Over the years he became more amazing with each new phase of his career. When he entered his Thriller period everyone was blown away with his talent and his continuing shy and sweet demeanor. Even Fred Astaire commented enthusiastically on the talented Michael Jackson.

Click on this wonderful link to see other famous admirers of Michael Jackson. 

http://floacist.wordpress.com/2007/10/11/quotes-on-michael-jackson/

Also take a peek at YouTube’s Smooth Criminal with Fred Astaire’s dancing incorporated into the music via clips from his movies. Fantastic.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RKanPsUjP7w&annotation_id=annotation_211174&feature=iv

Michael went beyond charisma. I remember the first time I saw the Thriller video I immediately purchased a copy of it. It was one of the most remarkable things I had ever viewed. So when I heard of Michael’s passing, I pulled my VHS tape out of the cupboard, popped it in my old VCR player, and that feeling came back again in an emotionally strong way. He was just the most amazing artist of all times in all ways.

He was physically beautiful and flamboyant (until he met with unscrupulous plastic surgeons), a fabulous dancer, a wonderful singer, and a fantastic composer. He was also a generous philanthropist and he was truly loved by millions. My favorite piece by Michael is She’s Out of My Life. For some reason it touched me every time I heard it. I don’t know the story behind the song and I’ve never tried to find out. I love the mystery of it. Just like Michael, a true enigma.

After I watched Thriller a few times I remembered something else. Stuck in the back of a closet, untouched for years and years, was Michael’s red zippered jacket that I bought for my son when he was around 10 years old made by Andre de Leure. My son tried it on but I do not believe he ever wore it except for that one time because he didn’t want anything to happen to it. It’s in pristine condition and I just stood there gaping at it. (No, we are not going to sell it on eBay.) I have a vague recollection that the jacket cost $25. I can’t remember where I bought it. So after the discovery I asked my son what he would like me to do and of course I knew the answer: keep it forever. In fact, we’re going to place it in a special preservative bag or have it framed.

But my grandmother would be horrified by all of this adulation. (Not to mention his friendship with her old nemesis Elizabeth Taylor.) I don’t think Michael’s later eccentric life and change of appearance would have bothered my grandmother, though she would have made astute comments to be sure, but even the hint of child molestation would have actually done her in, true or not. I guess that’s why Congress has decided not to go forward with the resolution they considered honoring Michael’s life. Just the suggestion that Michael could have been involved in such behavior is enough to put Congress’ collective shorts/panties in a bunch. I think it’s because they are all so honorable and chaste and true to their wives and husbands. None of them have ever had relations with teens or young people under their tutelage. Congress, and politics generally, is filled with light and sunshine and there’s not a bigoted, narcissistic, dishonest, spouse-cheating, lying, deceptive, manipulative, pervert in the bunch. We are blessed.

But back to grandma. I remember trying to explain that the information we got on Elizabeth Taylor and her scandal could not be trusted. That “Hollywood” stories were often wrong. How were we to know, really, what happened between the three of them? How were we to know if Eddie and Debbie were separated or having marital trouble prior to Elizabeth entering the picture? It didn’t matter and my grandmother would have hated Michael for any connection with child molestation. She would have assumed that no adult in his right mind would surround himself with children in a bedroom for anything other than ulterior motives. Key words being “in his right mind.”

However, in our society we are innocent until proven guilty. O.J. is innocent, Robert Blake is innocent, and Michael is innocent too. For some reason that works for me with Michael and Robert Blake, but I haven’t been able to process that theory with O.J. even though he is also charming and handsome. [For some reason I sense a sinister creepy vibe with him. I did NOT watch the trial.] I guess I have some of my grandmother in me after all. Phil Spector is a lunatic so he got what he deserved I guess. Often it’s the person who is the most charming, has the most money, and has a clever attorney with great insight into jury selection who gets an innocent verdict, guilty or not. If you look and act like Phil Spector money doesn’t help. If I’m ever arrested I do not want a jury of my peers. I’m neither charming nor rich. It would be Chowchilla for me.

And so this is how I have justified my continued admiration for Michael. A jury of his peers found him innocent. He paid a large sum of nuisance money to the alleged victim, which is routinely done in legal matters with strict covenants to never speak of the matter again or risk losing the settlement. Because everyone lies about their personal lives, including our esteemed political leaders, we can only base our opinions on court decisions, not tabloids. 

Michael was an extraordinary child in a tough adult business. He later became a reclusive man who did not understand boundaries, did not understand that it wasn’t okay to play with young children in his bedroom, and that he would be judged harshly by that behavior. He had mental confusions and conflicts that were not being treated except, perhaps, with drugs. He had a loving but complicated family structure that was unable to direct his personal life (or theirs at times) in a healthy direction. He was also surrounded with friends and attendants who were also at a loss as to how to help him live an adult life with limits, and if he did seek the care of a mental health care provider, that person failed him. All the money and fame in the world could not keep him from his sad spiral into a bizarre death at the hands of more unscrupulous doctors. Everyone loved him and no one could help him. And now he’s out of our lives.

www.sharonstrawhandgarner.com

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Bette Davis Eyes & Farrah Fawcett Hair (Part 1 of 1)

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Farrah Fawcett’s incredible journey to the end of her life was reality TV of a courageous caliber. Normally, I avoid anything to do with reality TV because these creations focus on absurd confrontation, excessive and brutal competition, belittlement, demeaning behaviors, and are filled with embarrassing examples of humanity. In fact, when I learned she was video-chronicling her fight against cancer I cringed. However, I underestimated the impact of such a brave production. Farrah did not “go gentle into that good night.”[i]

When most of us first became aware of Farrah it was via the popular TV show, Charlie’s Angels.  As I remember, it was a simplistic format.  During the opening credits it was explained that Charlie’s “angels” were working for “Charlie” as private investigators. Though they had completed tough police academy training, they were given old fashioned, gender-based duties with the police department. Their only option to utilize their training and skills would be with Charlie, a mystery man we never saw. He assigned investigations to these women each week (Farrah Fawcett, Kate Jackson, Jaclyn Smith, and later, cast substitutions of Cheryl Ladd, Shelley Hack, and Tanya Roberts. John Forsythe was the voice of the invisible Charlie and David Doyle portrayed Charlie’s liaison with the lovely investigators). The formula was simple: solve a case, wear beautiful clothes, and set hair trends for millions of women (and a few men).

I recently watched (again) Of Human Bondage [1934] based on W. Somerset Maugham’s novel, with Leslie Howard and Bette Davis. In this wonderful movie Bette goes from a breathtaking beauty to a wretched fallen woman. Even though her appearance deteriorates horribly in the movie, there wasn’t a makeup artist in Hollywood who could change those beautiful eyes. If shown photos of several sets of eyes almost everyone would be able to pick out Bette’s expressive orbs without hesitation. Just like Farrah’s smile and signature hair.

Farrah somehow managed to smile at her doctors when they were inflicting more painful treatments on her ever-weakening body. In the last few months and weeks and days of Farrah’s life, though that smile was still there, we all know that cancer treatments are terribly hard on hair. It bothered her in a very brave way, but not her fans. We will always see her with her beautiful hair.  I know she was more than a smile and hair but what a sweet legacy.

And now I must confess, I had Farrah Fawcett Hair. Years ago I had varying degrees of thick, multi-colored shades of blond hair and with great good fortune was one of the few who could actually copy her magnificent mane. I never managed it as beautifully as she did but I came very close. Almost everyone I knew tried to get their hair to look that way but one needed a very specific type of hair and clever shaping by an expert in a salon. I loved my hair this way, but sadly, I wore this style longer than my stylist’s comfort level. Toward the waning of its popularity he told me it was time to move on because Farrah had!

Sometimes walking down the street one would see dozens of Farrah heads but in some cases what was meant to be a stunning replica was in reality thin and flat and without the proper shaping by a hair stylist. We could spot a “bad Farrah” a mile away. (I should point out that though I was successful in getting my hair to look like Farrah’s, all other similarities stopped there.)

At different times in my life I’ve loved and hated TV, often at the same time depending on the programming (I’m currently in hate mode which will be thoroughly blogged in a few weeks; see paragraph 1 herein). Charlie’s Angels was simple, light entertainment with the primary focus on the amazingly beautiful cast along with fascinating guest appearances as well. It was a pleasant and harmless way to spend an hour and an inexpensive way to pick up all sorts of fashion tips! Men loved this show for obvious reasons, but women were equally enamored. 

The actors were all unique. John Forsythe though never seen (at least I don’t think they ever saw his face though there were close calls) had a beautiful voice. Bosley (David Boyle) had a crusty, raspy, exotic voice and a fun semi-macho persona. Next, Kate, Jaclyn, and Farrah were each special in their individual beauty.  Scripts were designed to enhance their individual styles and personalities. Farrah, however, rose to spectacular popularity because of her smile, her hair, her perfect tan figure and sparkling personality. Posters and interviews and fan magazines went crazy over Farrah. She was electric.

Sometimes when a TV actor/actress is met with such huge success on the small screen they often find transitioning to films and other work difficult. Farrah did not stay long with the angels because she knew she was already typecast and she longed for a more well rounded career. I did a little research which helped me remember that Farrah later went on to do serious work tackling tough subjects. (My personal favorite: Extremities.)  One might never know she had been a somewhat fluffy angel for Charlie (unless a person came from another planet because who on earth did not know about Charlie’s Angels?)

I have always tried very hard to avoid all celebrity gossip. If I see a tabloid while standing in the checkout line at the store I immediately turn in the opposite direction (and end up buying candy). I don’t want to know anything about their personal lives. I’d rather gain two pounds. Sometimes celebrity gossip is unavoidable when mingling with friends and coworkers so I have overheard more than I want to about various celebrities.

Prior to her documentary I knew almost nothing about Farrah’s personal life except for the famous men in her life and that she had a son. I did happen to catch her famous (or infamous) appearance on the David Letterman show but was happily unaware of any particular reason for the unusual appearance. Most of what I know about her now I learned via her own video production of her final struggles with cancer. It was very difficult to watch. 

And so at the end of Farrah’s battle, for some reason, I thought of Bette Davis. Maybe because I had recently watched Of Human Bondage. I noticed the same power in Bette Davis the last time I saw her on The Tonight Show With Johnny Carson. It was 1988 and she died not too long after in 1989. She wasn’t well but was dressed to the nines and the epitome of class. Bette was terribly thin and frail that night and I knew the end was near. But she was feisty and strong-willed, and her eyes were exactly the same. Bette Davis Eyes and Farrah Fawcett Hair. Unforgettable.

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[i] Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

[Excerpt; Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas]

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