Pray you now, forget and forgive—King Lear

I’ve been off the bloggy radar for the past few days—weird time for me. Yesterday was the 4^th “anniversary” [I don’t know what other term to use….] of my ex-husband’s suicide. Always a tough time.

And then this morning, I heard the story about the girl who took her own life after being bullied in school. God, I know just how her family is feeling. Every time I here of someone making that choice, it takes me back to the horrible pain my kids and I endured for weeks/months afterwards.

In our own non-church-going way we’ve prayed; but we will never forget. You can’t. You want to, but you can’t. You want to forget how his life ended and remember how fully and sweetly he lived it for a long time. You see, he had scoliosis of the spine and had undergone a double spinal fusion at age 15. He was in alot of pain, but from the time he was 17 until well into his 40s, he learned how to ski on land and water. He played drums in a couple of bands. He learned how to surf- and later showed our son how to do it too. He rode a motorcycle [courted me on it as a matter of fact]. He was a hands-on dad to our daughter and son [except for dirty diapers-he couldn't hack those]. And he spent hours with our grandson. He LOVED being "Pop."

Fortunately neither my kids or I were the ones to find him, but the information from the police and the death certificate were pretty specific. I know all three of us get weird mental images at odd times….. Believe me, we’d like to forget.

At Christmas, my grandson caught my daughter off-guard by asking if Pop had left a note. He knows his grandfather took his own life, but he does not know the method—my daughter didn’t want him to have the same mental movies that we do. It’s not necessary. I guess, like the rest of us, the kid was looking for answers, an explanation, something. She didn’t know what to say or how to react…. At first she just walked away, but then she realized that not dealing with things was a big part of her father’s problem.

So she told him what she knew—yes there was a note, but it didn’t say much. I wound up with custody of a COPY of it [the original is on file with the police, I guess]. I told her that oddly enough, I chuckled when I received it—this freaked her out a bit.

Then I told her that he’d written his one-sentence summation of his actions on the back of an envelope. He was ALWAYS writing things on the back of envelopes. I’d find random names, phone numbers, addresses. It was so HIM to use an envelope for that too. Another odd image….

Ah, now we come to the forgive part…..

That is so much harder—for all of us. I’m still working on forgiving him for choosing to self-medicate his pain—both physical and emotional. I tell myself—he was sick [depression was finally diagnosed in 1999]. I think: "You wouldn’t have felt this way if he’d had cancer." But it’s hard. And I’m working on forgiving him for not valuing our marriage or me enough to get help. I spent about 8 years trying to help him help himself. My daughter and I are trying to forgive him for making us worry about her son when he was struggling adjusting to being away at college. We’re working on forgiving him for passing some of his traits on to my son—who seems to be trying to take a different path. Thank God.

And, lest you think I’m a cold-hearted bitch, I’m working on forgiving myself for not being better tuned in to mental illness, for not seeking more help myself to know what to say and do. Could that have helped him? Could all of this have been avoided?

[sorry if I’ve upset anyone, but I needed to get my thoughts/feelings down somewhere.]

Peace til next time. E

No, I will be the pattern of all patience; I will say nothing. (Lear 3.2.37)

So….. guess who called me the other night….

My younger brother—yeah, the one who kicked our mom out of the house she bought. [read about that here]

Now, Mom has been here since January 16th and this is the first we’ve heard from him. I was totally taken off guard. Very awkward—he’s my baby brother and I love him, but I want to choke him for what he’s done.

And he’s all la-de-da, life is beautiful….

Yeah—really.

I didn’t know what to say or do. I am even more convinced he’s bipolar or something. He's basically a good person, but something has gotten screwed up along the way. He genuinely doesn't see that what he did was horrible and wrong. Everyone else does, but not him. It’s sad—and takes some of the bite out of my anger. I’ve already lost one person in my life to mental illness; I don’t want to lose another.

We were very close as kids. We're 14 months apart in age, so we played together constantly. Those memories kept coming back to me.

I was very cordial, chatted with him for a bit. But seriously, I was really uncomfortable—all of the things I wanted to say jumbling around in my head….. For a change, my editing equipment was on. It probably wasn’t the time to get into it. Mom is still trying to settle some legal stuff with him and I don’t want to complicate matters for her.

But—and this is a kicker!!—he talked about maybe coming East for a visit soon. Like he’s gonna be greeted with open arms by the family here…

I’ll keep you posted…..

" There is a tide in the affairs of man..."

Today is "National Near Miss Day."


Now THAT'S an intriguing thought/concept......

It has rolled around in my head all afternoon. I mean isn't most of life a "near miss." You know, the path you didn't take, the "what ifs" we've all had throughout our lives. Even something as simple as "what if I took that road to work this morning." [I mean think of the people who weren't in the Twin Towers on the morning of 9/11 because they'd stopped to get coffee or something. Or folks who miss a flight and it winds up crashing. Or they don't buy a lottery ticket that day and their numbers hit? On the other hand, there's the guy who was jogging on a beach last week when a small plane made an emergency landing, killing him in the process- I mean, it was his time!]

The historical "What Ifs" are things like "What if Columbus hadn't gotten lost on his way across the Atlantic. " or "What if the British had decided to give us taxation WITH representation?" or "What if Hitler had stuck to paperhanging?"

In my life, it would be:

What if I'd at least gone to community college after high school instead of getting a job. [My plan was to work for 2 years, save up my money and then study acting in New York]

What if I hadn't met the hot guy with the long curly hair at that first job. What if I had waited til I was a few years older instead of marrying him at 20.....

What if we'd saved up and bought our first house BEFORE we had our kids?

What if he'd taken that job possibility with his friend in California?


But...


then I think, if I'd have gone to community college, what would I have studied. If I went to New York, would I have become a Meryl Streep or would I have wound up chewed up and spit out?

I f I had taken a different job, would I have met a total creep who would have taken advantage of the 18 year old virginal Catholic school girl? [instead of the caring guy I fell in love with and married]

If I had waited to get married, would we still be together? Would I have been a stronger person and able to see that there was a deep depression lurking in him when he was in his 40s?

If we had waited to have kids, would they be the two awesome, talented, gorgeous human beings I proudly claim as my daughter and son?

If we had moved to California would some of the sorrows of the past 15 years been avoided? Or would the battles have been worse?

I'll never know the answers to those questions--and I'm not meant to know. I made the choices I made based on what I knew/felt at the time. I wouldn't be the person I am now if I hadn't experienced the good, the bad and the ugly that has been my adult life.

I love my kids and my amazing grandson more than words will ever be able to express. I have some awesome friends in my life that I cherish. I may not have the coolest job in the world, but I am finally getting financially stable. I will be able to care for my mother in comfort.

So my body is shot to shit--I've lived in it! I've got lots of laugh lines to show for it too.

And my acting and directing is probably richer for it as well.

So here's to all of the "Near Misses" or "What Ifs" in all of our lives.

"Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness." -Two Gentlemen of Verona

So, continuing my March theme of pointing out incredibly obscure “holidays,” I’m here to inform you that today is

“National Goof Off Day.”

YES!!! Now here’s a holiday I can get behind.

I wish I could say I spent it languishing on my sofa watching insipid daytime TV, but no such luck. I am toiling away at my desk. My workdays are long and tiring, so my weekends become my “Goof-off” days.

I’m gonna commemorate the day by making this post short and sweet so we can all go laze around as we see fit. [maybe go online and pop some virtual bubble wrap....]

What’s your favorite way to goof off? Enjoy it tonight and think of me…..

“…it is the woman’s part.”—Cymbaline

Today is both “Goddess of Fertility” and “Supreme Sacrifice” Day.

Strange pairing, I know, but it got me thinking—always scary… I made the supreme sacrifice of losing my fertility about 4 years ago [i.e. menopause]. I know that probably sounds odd. I mean it’s not like I wanted any more children—at 52 especially—it was just nice to know I still could. It’s just bittersweet to come to terms with the loss of that most womanly capability. The desire had popped up off and on when my 2 were in grade school—you know: “I know what I’m doing now God—give me another shot at this…..” I even used to have the occasional dream about having another child…. Is that common?

We were 27 and 21 when our daughter was born—and 13 months later our son joined the clan. Fertility was not a problem. In fact, my doctor threatened to send my husband to a monastery for the spring if I got pregnant so soon again. By our 10th anniversary, we’d decided that two healthy kids were enough—and my husband got a vasectomy. So another child was not an option.

Not long after I separated from my husband and moved into my own apartment, I had my then-9 year old grandson over for a visit. Out of the blue, he asked me if I was going to have any more babies:
“Oh, I don’t think so buddy.”
“But, I want you to.”
“Why? So you can burp your aunt or uncle?”

Well, THAT cracked him up—and diverted him onto another subject. I relayed this conversation to my daughter the next day. She told me he desperately wanted to be a big brother.
“He’s not having any luck with me, so I guess he thought he’d go to the next known breeder in the family.”
“Oh good God, he’ll be onto Nanny next.”

Well, he never has gotten to be a big brother and now my daughter has had an ovary removed due to a malignant cyst, as well as cancer cells on her cervix. She has bravely accepted the fact that her son may well be her one and only. But I feel bad for her—she never got to experience the fun of being a pregnant couple. She was only 16 and Mr. Sperm Donor was clueless. He’s been pretty much out of my grandson’s life since he was one. So she never got to plan a nursery, have a baby shower, have the daddy fuss over her and listen to the baby’s heartbeat.

Now she’s like many women in her age range—reproductively challenged. I wonder why that is? Why so many 30-something women—and men—are facing a myriad of issues with fertility. Is it the additives that have been in our food supply over the past 3 decades? Is it the birth control pills that my generation took before having them—and that they started taking at young ages?

I ache for all of these couples who would make amazing parents yet cannot conceive. I wish I knew the answer…..

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
A footnote:
As devote Catholics, my parents followed Church approved birth control methods—my mother used to point to the four of us and say “This is my rhythm section.” When she was pregnant with number 4 in 7 years, she looked at my father and said “You know, the pope isn’t paying to raise these kids….” My dad got a vasectomy right after my younger brother was born.

" Were I the Moor…." OTHELLO

“WASHINGTON TOWNSHIP, New Jersey - Wal-Mart Stores Inc. officials are reviewing security tapes to try to determine who used a southern New Jersey store's public-address system to tell "all black people" to leave.”

[click on post title to read the initial article]

I just happened to come across this on MSN.com today. I was appalled. It is so sad that there are still people in this world who dislike someone solely on the basis of their skin color—or sexual orientation for that matter. That bigotry continues to exist a decade into the 21st century. This still surprises me—although it probably shouldn’t.

[the lyrics to a song from South Pacific popped into my head, as they have on other occasions:
You have to be taught before it’s too late,

before you are six or seven or eight,

to hate all the people you’re relatives hate.

You’ve got to be carefully taught]

I thought we’d have evolved enough to be beyond all of that. The essence of who we are comes from within, from our “soul,” for lack of a better word. I’ve gained a boatload of weight over the past few years, but what makes me “me” is still the same. I can’t get around as agilely as I used to, but I’m still the same person. I look in the mirror and wonder what the hell happened, but I know the smart, funny, creative individual is still there….. Your body—and its inherent skin color, eye color, etc.—is just “window dressing” or “packaging,” if you will. And we all come in an infinite variety of packages—that’s what makes us interesting. But it shouldn’t define how we are treated in this world.

Disliking someone for their skin color or the like is akin to disliking them for being left-handed or blue-eyed. Get over it people—no one group is any better than any other group.

what fools these mortals be.....

watching Jonn Stewart's breakdown of the BS that passes for politics t0night--with special emphasis on the scandals--got me thinking......

they should do a Washington version of "Tool Academy."

“My words fly up, my thoughts remain below; words without thoughts never to heaven go.”

Weird crap floating around in my brain:

Incredibly painful throbbing in my left foot woke me up at 4am this morning [after not falling asleep til 1] and all I could think of was Daniel Day Lewis.

The theme to Gilligan’s Island

I couldn’t find my jacket this morning as I was about to leave for work. I wandered around the apartment for a few minutes before discovering it hanging on the back of the bedroom door. That old chesnut “If it was a snake it would have bit me…” came to mind. And it struck me as a really f’d up expression—I mean I’d like to think I’d have noticed a snake hanging around the place right off the bat….

A 7th grade book report on mirrors—I wrote it upside down and backwards.

A song by Rancid played on the radio as I was driving in to work and it got me thinking about words that sound like what they mean… like “phlegm,” “succulent,” “vomit” [it sort of explodes out of your mouth], “ping pong,” “angular,”

Several quotes from Seinfeld—God they come in handy in almost ANY life situation.

That during my lifetime, our country has been run by a haberdasher, a retired general, a decorated war vet/celebrated author, a Texas teacher, a lawyer, a college football star, a peanut farmer, a B actor, former director of the CIA, a saxophone player, an idiot and a guy with the middle name of Hussein.

Do two gay brothers make a sister?

Why is it cold weather makes your nose run—shouldn’t it freeze that stuff up and the HOT weather make it run?

How I wish I really could laugh my ass off….

Questions from the Baltimore Catechism: Who made me? God made me. Why did God make me?

Boy I wish I could defrag my brain like I do my computer.

*illustration is from “bluemoonart at flickr”

“Sigh no more ladies, sigh no more….”

whoa!

Barbie made her first appearance today in 1959—I was 6.

Damn.

Barbie—the impossibly proportioned fashion doll. [The doll that set the stage for generations of body issues for young girls? Maybe…..]

I got the second version of Barbie—the one with the “bubble” bouffant ‘do—she was still rockin’ the striped one-piece though.

Then you had to start getting her massive wardrobe. Barbie has always been quite fashion forward, you know. The ultimate, of course, was to have her bridal gown—that cost about $15.00 at the time! [Again—setting little girls up for impossible expectations of what real life is all about. If you didn’t have the ultimate wedding you were nothing. DUH—it’s the marriage that’s the important thing!]

Since we didn’t have a lot of money, my grandmother knitted several ensembles for my Barbie [including a wedding gown, I think]. I had the only granny-looking doll in my hood. God bless Grandmom, she tried. When I was about 12, I learned how to sew and I made a few outfits on my own. They were, um,… interesting….

Also around this time, my crazy older brother decided that my Barbie wasn’t “anatomically correct” and proceeded to take a hammer and a nail and give her nipples.

It still amazes me that I haven’t spent eons in therapy….

Barbie’s empire has grown by leaps and bounds over the years. During my Barbie years, they came out with the Ken doll, her little sister Skipper and the Barbie car—you were the queen bitch of your group if you had that.

I tried to stave off my daughter’s foray into Barbie-dom as long as I could, but once she started kindergarten it was impossible not to let her have one. No, not just one, you had to have several….

And a ton more accoutrements to go with them.

By now Miss B. was into real estate. There was the Barbie townhouse, the Barbie beauty parlor and, of course, the Barbie Dream House. Seriously, Barbie puts Martha Stewart to shame for entreprenurialness.

One of the jobs my daughter had when she was going to college and raising her son was at a low-income day care center in the area. There was one Ken doll and a gazillion Barbie’s. The common scenario apparently was for all of the Barbie’s to be claiming Ken was their baby daddy—ah how times had changed….. My daughter said it was a toddler Jerry Springer Show.

[OMG--now there's a Barbie with a tramp stamp!!]

HAPPY 51ST MISS B.!!!

Welcome to menopause!

"I have no other but a woman's reason: I think him so, because I think him so." -Two Gentlemen of Verona

Well, it took them long enough…..

A woman won an Oscar for directing last night—for the first time. Really so-called progressive Hollywood? It took you to 2010 to do this.
Interesting that it should happen the night before “International Women’s Day.” Didn’t know that was today? Well you’re probably not alone—I didn’t.

Gee, a whole day for us girls…. To contemplate what it is to be a woman? Well, a lot of things: daughters, sisters, wives, mothers, teachers, nurses, accountants, chauffeurs. All kinds of things. Most men can’t keep up. I know the one time my husband had to follow my schedule, when I was hospitalized, he was overwhelmed.

Then add jobs to all of the above….. No wonder many of the ladies I know are so tired all the time.

International Women’s Day was “launched” in 1911 in Copenhagen by a woman named Clara Zetkin, leader of the Women’s Office for the Social Democratic Party in Germany [uh-oh—there’s that “s” word the conservatives have been throwing around.]

BUT—

They didn’t actually get around to observing it until 1945….
So, I guess I can’t be too pissed off at Hollywood.

Okay, I’m going to celebrate this evening by doing something highly cultural—and very lady-like: watch RuPaul’s Drag Race 2….

♥♥ ♥♥ ♥♥

Today’s interesting factoid:
Dorothy Arzner was the only woman director during the "Golden Age" of Hollywood's studio system in the 1920s, 30s and early 40s. Though she was the sole member of her gender to direct Hollywood pictures during the first generation of sound film, in the silent era, a woman aspiring to a career behind the camera was not a pipe-dream. The first movie in history was directed by a Frenchwoman, and many women were employed in Hollywood during the silent era, most frequently as scenario writers. Indeed, there were women directors in the silent era, such as Frances Marion (more famous as a screenwriter) and Lois Weber, but Arzner was fated to be the only female director to have made a successful transition to the Sound Era. It wasn't until the 1930s and the verticalization of the industry, as it matured and consolidated, that women were squeezed out of production jobs in Hollywood.

"He jests at scars that never felt a wound"--a postscript

okay...

So apparently one of the side-effects of my injury is complete brain farts.

I totally forgot the worst part of this whole physical fiasco!!! On top of all of the other fun goodies I mentioned yesterday, I also tore my ACL. [I know--when did I join the NFL, right?]

The procedure to repair this injury is much more invasive than the stuff I got done and would have left me completely incapacitated. Not a good thing when you're all by your lonesome.

And as the surgeon so gently pointed out to me:

"At this point in your life.... [read: Now that you're well on your way to old-fartdom] and since you're not an athlete--or a dancer--you can live with a torn ACL."

"So, my dream of becoming the oldest contestant on So You Think You Can Dance is over?"

Upshot is that I get to see what living with a torn ACL is all about. [The thought of another surgery and starting this thing all over again is just too much.....] I must admit I rocked the cripple thing at my grandson's graduation and got us a parking spot right next to the venue and seats on the floor right next to wear the kids were sitting. My knee comes in handy as a weather predictor these days too. I was at my daughter's for a barbeque last 4th of July and I said that based on the throbbing in my knee we were going to get a storm in the next couple of days. And my son comes back with "Could you dial that in a bit more there Sam Champion." Ya gotta love sons and their mom sarcasm.

I want to thank everyone for their encouraging comments--I read and cherish them all. Rock on Cinner [is that template new girl? I love it], Natural Girl, DUTA [check out the link to my mom’s website—she’s a world traveler as well], Ellen Abbott [the only thing I’ve read lately is blogs] and Slommer [like the blue additions. Good luck on finding the red—what’s in the vintage material has lots of burgundy tones]! Check out their blogs gang. They’re great reads.

Xoxo til next time, E

[doesn't the MRI image of the ACL look like something Picasso might have done in a "gray period?" A co-worker said one of my MRI images looked like I had Beelzebub in my knee and that perhaps I needed an excorcism instead of surgery.]

♥♥♥ ♥♥♥ ♥♥♥ ♥♥♥

Random thought for today:
If your “Sex Is On Fire,” shouldn’t you be on medication of some sort?

♥♥♥ ♥♥♥ ♥♥♥ ♥♥♥

You may have notice I was given a second blog award by a fellow blogger… This never ceases to amaze me—it is so awesome that folks actually look forward to reading my posts. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
It was bestowed upon me by the lovely Nancy @ “the window to my sol” [be sure to check her out!]

As always, one is encouraged to pass it on. In no particular order, here are the blogs that I look forward to checking out on a regular basis:

My girl Bridget at … it ain’t that deep she’s new to the party but she’s an awesome friend and fellow theatre freak.

The always wonderful Ruth at Lemonade & Kidneys [send her some hugs peeps—she’s had a rough few weeks]

Lora at fever she will make you laugh and cry and think—all at the same time.

SueAnn at sueann’s journey and awesome artist and a fabulous lady

The wonderfully wacky Alix at Casa Hice

And

The uberly amazing all round biznatch Stephanie at Stephanie Snowe-the Blog! [she’s actually been published folks!!]

“He jests at scars that never felt a wound.”

It was one year ago tonight that I slipped on the ice and did a whole shitload of damage to my left knee….

Not exactly an anniversary that I am enjoying marking. It has been a very frustrating, challenging, yet interesting year. A year filled with my first ride in an ambulance and my first visit to an emergency room in about a decade. A year of having laparoscopic surgery to repair the torn meniscus, the damaged ligaments on both sides of the knee and to remove the cartilage that was floating around in there. A year when for about 2 weeks I was unable to get in and out of the shower because my legs just was not capable of the movement required to do so—so I had to take what my Dad called “whore’s baths.” [When I was finally brave enough to climb into the tub and shower, I was petrified my wobbly knee would not hold me—I kept my cell phone within arm’s length. [ it’s scary living alone]

A year of not being able to drive for several weeks and having to “depend on the kindness of [not really] strangers” to get to and from work—and of being basically trapped in my apartment once I was dropped off because I couldn’t drive my stick-shift car anywhere. A year of excruciating physical therapy, of being in an uncomfortable brace 24-7 and hobbling around on a crutch for about 3 months. It was exhausting. I remember just completely losing steam one day as I hobbled from my car up into my apartment. I made it into the building and around the corner of the hallway. The elevator was another 50 feet or so away and I had to stop and lean against the wall—I just could not go another inch. I looked at the door to the apartment that was about a foot away from me and thought: “God, I wish I lived there.”

A year of having to spend $1,800.00 to repair a damaged clutch and gear-shift due to my hindered abilities while operating the clutch with my bad left leg. A year of attempting to walk to the other end of the borough on an important errand [because my car was having the above damage repaired and I was without it for close to a week.] and having to stop twice on the way there, sit in Mickey D’s for half an hour, and stop twice on the way home. It took me 3 times as long as it would have pre-injury, but I DID IT.

A year of probably gaining about 20 pounds because I couldn’t do any exercise. [and I really was starting to try and get into the habit of working out—I promise]

A year of a lot of other things too—I just can’t remember them all now. I’ve come up against many challenges—some of them I’ve handled well and others I’ve failed at miserably. I’ve had to make a lot of adjustments in my lifestyle—some I’ve done with grace, others of acted like a cranky baby about.

But, I have discovered that I am one tough old broad—and I think that’s a good thing.


♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
Random tidbit: March is National “On Hold” Month.

And today is “If Pets Had Thumbs” Day

[if they did, they’d probably answer our calls and put everyone on hold…]

"Th' expense of spirit in a waste of shame"

AMC is showing TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD tonight to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the book.

This is one of my favorite films.... and I love the book. I'VE READ IT A DOZEN TIMES. I first read it when I was about 12--and probably totally missed alot of the message. I read it on my own, it was not an assignment--my school did not teach it as part of the curriculum. I guess it didn't join the syllabus until a few years later.

I mean, let's face it--this was a very brave story for 1960--and 62, when the film was released. The Civil Rights Movement didn't hit full steam until a couple of years after this.

Harper Lee's writing was very powerful--and her narration of the film was perfect. It is a shame she never wrote anything after this. I would love to have seen her talent continue to blossom. But how very brave for a white woman in the early 60s to write a book indicting our racist attitudes and practices. I may have grown up in a very "white-bread" suburb, but I was taught to accept everyone as my equal--and that I could learn from everyone I encountered. I have never understood prejudice or discrimination against someone because of their color, or religion, or sexual orientation. [I will admit to having trouble with some people's political standing--but that's me. At least I admit it....]

I also think Ms. Lee wanted to show that not everyone in the South behaved that way. There were plenty of people in that region who helped slaves escape and who worked for voting rights and other things. Atticus Finch with his graying hair, glasses and mild manner is a true hero in my mind. Way more so that anything on screen today.

The courtroom scene is just finishing up. It is very painful to watch how the character of Tom [played with powerful understatement by Brock Peters] is treated. It is so sad to realize that this happened all the time--and probably still does today in a more subtle way.

When I read the book as a young girl, I was totally fascinated by the 2 kids. I couldn't wait to see what Jem, Scout and Dill would get into next. The whole Boo Radley obsession was funny to me. It reminded me to some extent of my brothers and I and our friends. Back in the days when kids played outside and did make-believe. Do kids do that at all anymore? We had so much fun creating worlds for ourselves.

Now we're up to the part when Jem and Scout are walking home from the school pageant on Halloween night. Scout is in a papier mache ham costume because she has lost her dress. They take a short cut through a wooded area, with Jem leading her by her "ham hock." And suddenly they're attacked. One of the most tense film sequences I can remember--especially because of what you don't see.

I know that the actress who played Scout only did a couple more films. as did the young man who played Jem. Both were complete unknowns, cast for their genuine Southern-ness. And I bet you didn't know who thew then-unknown who played Boo Radley was Robert Duval--one of today's most respected actors.

okay--gotta go find the book and re-read it yet again.... wanna join me?

"Beware the Ides of March." —Julius Caesar

Happy March one and all.

Well, it’s March—finally. Some light at the end of the horrible long tunnel that was the winter of 09-10. We will not soon forget this season I’m sure.

Did you know that March is:

Irish-American Month [Faith and Begorrah, me ancestors would be pleased.]

Music in Our Schools Month [what would a football game be without the marching band? Seriously—and what would they do at Christmas…]

National Craft Month [get out those popsicle sticks and pipe cleaners and go to it]

National Frozen Food Month [shouldn’t it also then be National Microwave Month?]

National Peanut Month [find Jimmy Carter and give him a hug. Or a jar of Jiffy, whatever works for ya.]

National Women’s History Month [what, we only get 1 month?! Puh-leaze]

Poetry Month [roses are red, violets are blue; I’m having fun with this post—how about you?]

Red Cross Month [they deserve waaayyy more than a month]