Where'd He Go?

Gene Hackman is one of the most prolific actors ever! He's made over 80 movies. He was a stage actor for many years before going to Hollywood.

He's won countless awards, including three Oscars. He was one of the most popular actors around. He could play anything. He did tough and mean and kind and funny.

Oh, and he's a novelist. He's written three books.

Around 2005 he seemed to disappear. No movies. No press. I wondered if he was ill - but then in 2008 his latest book "Escape from Andersonville," a Civil War novel, was released and he did a book tour.

Then I learned that he had announced on Larry King in 2004 that he was retiring from acting.

The reason I didn't know this sooner was because nobody in the media picked up on it. Not the tabloids, not the papers, not "Entertainment Tonight." Nothing.

Why? My guess is because he's old and he never was good at making trouble in real life like he did on the screen.

Today is Gene Hackman's 80th birthday.

Happy Birthday big guy. We miss seeing you but still enjoy reading you. So don't give that up any time soon.

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Generation to Generation

This morning I entertained Dave and my Oldies by reading from "Dear Abby." It seems that this young woman was having trouble communicating with her parents.

She says: Do you think it's because they're aging?

As it turns out her parents are 44 and 46 years old!

We all had a good laugh. Dave and I each have children in their 40s. And, as you know, my Oldies are old enough to be my parents.

Old is relative. My advice for those 44 and 46 year old parents is to save their money and for the kid to figure out how to "communicate" with them because they're all most likely to be around for a very long time.


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Leonard Says It Better Than I Can

I'm a writer. Occasionally a good one. But there are subjects about which I feel strongly but for which I just don't have the words.

Sometimes I just want to say "Stupid, stupid, stupid."

Perhaps you've heard of this company that inscribes coded references to Bible verses on gun sights of high-powered rifles they supply to U.S. service personnel.

Yes, I have strong feelings about this but haven't been able to articulate them without the top of my head exploding. Not to mention that I'm sure there are several people whom I love who don't feel the way I do.

And then yesterday's column by syndicated columnist, Leonard Pitts, said exactly what I wanted to say - and said it much better than I could have.

A couple of quotes:

...(it) is a fresh embarrassment for the United States, which has labored for nine years to convince the Muslim world that it is not leading a Christian crusade against Islam.

...The coded scriptural references provided a recruiting tool to warlords and terrorists who could truthfully tell followers they were being shot at by Jesus guns.

...there is a rather jarring cognitive disconnect involved in seeing weapons of war used to lionize the prince of peace.

If you're interested in reading the column try orlandosentinal.com or lpitts@miamiherald.com

In the meantime my head won't have to explode. But I'd like to think that if it did, scripture would emerge. Because, unlike gun barrels, my head IS an appropriate place for storage.


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Painful Memories

I'm now reading the current bestseller, "The Help." I'm finding it very real and very painful.

Then, yesterday morning this world renowned writer, teacher and United Methodist bishop, Will Willimon, preached in my church. Pretending to be a curmudgeon, he was funny and entertaining.

Also profound.

He spoke some about Martin Luther King, Jr. and about how the only people who should be allowed to speak on MLK Day are those who're willing to go out into the community the next day.

I should have felt proud about doing both of those things - and I did - but I also felt the pain.

As a young white woman out organizing on the streets and speaking in white churches and colleges on racism in the 60s and 70s I can tell you that it was very, very scary.

Following are parts of two letters written during that time.

The first was written by me to my mother-in-law who was totally clueless about the Civil Rights movement.

April 10, 1968

...Ken and I marched in Martin Luther King's funeral procession yesterday. It was truly history in the making and we feel blessed to be here at this particular time.

We stood right up close to many great people, Bobby and Ethel Kennedy, John Lindsey, Sammy Davis, Jr., etc. The funeral lasted about 7 hours all together but we had to leave early. We both had to get back to work. Atlanta has had absolutely no trouble so far and it's been due, in part, to people like Ken who've worked hard to keep things quiet.

We were out until 2 A.M. the night before the funeral driving people from the airport and helping them find places to spend the night. Lots of people, black and white, opened their homes and we had some sleeping at the church.

The next was written to me by a friend and co-worker:

...We had a great time attempting to save this world. However not all agreed with our "M.O."

Remember January in Washington, 1974. Ken led the way despite the appointed leadership objections, and we had a marvelous time parading around the White House. Freezing to death, we were warmed by the eloquence of Jesse Jackson's fire. He thrilled us long before the Rainbow Coalition and others heard of his passion.

...So maybe we haven't saved the world - just ourselves. Much love to you. Keep working on the world.

(The picture above was taken at that Civil Rights march in 1974. My husband's on the left. I'm freezing to death in the red coat.)

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Who Wrote This?

I just read another hysterical "Shouts & Murmurs" column in the January 18, 2010 edition of The New Yorker.

It starts with a "real" article published by the Centers for Disease Control stating that about 20 people a year are killed by cows.

It's then followed by an article written by an actual cow.

It seems this cow lives on a farm in New Jersey. It's very pleasant. The cow loves that the owners of the farm invite weekend guests because she (the cow) is seriously underrated intellectually so enjoys eavesdropping on actors, journalists, painters, musicians, directors, etc.

That is until she meets a "wormy little cipher, myopic behind black-framed glasses and groomed loutishly in his idea of rural chic: all tweedy and woodsy...demanding that a board be placed under his mattress, which he found too soft ."

"I might add (this is the cow speaking) that the character's incessant carping was done in a kazoolike nasal whine..."

OK, who does this sound like?

The cow goes on for pages describing this (familiar) guy in the most unflattering terms until he does something so offensive that she can't take it anymore.

"It was at this point that I decided to kill him!"

She doesn't quite accomplish this but she tries. And, along the way she's further insulted by this insufferable little Hollywood director.

Of course, the article is not written by a cow. It's written by Woody Allen.


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The Piano Teacher

One of my aunts, a woman I really loved, hated Asians. When I became a young woman I confronted her about this. But she reminded me of the terrible things that happened to her brothers (my uncles) in World War II and said she'd never get over it.

I tried to explain that a third of the world is Asian and that war brought out the worst in many people, no matter their race. But she wasn't swayed and died with this terrible prejudice.

And now I've just finished reading "The Piano Teacher" by Janice Y. K. Lee. I like books that teach me something as long as it's not too painful.

This one wasn't exactly painless because it takes place in Hong Kong prior, during and after World War II. A very painful time and place.

This New York Times bestseller is presented as a love story - but it's so much more. We see the brutality of race and class warfare and the kind of harsh reality this brings during times of real war.

It was given to me for Christmas. It's taken a while to finish because I've been reading other books as well and, of course, I've had other things on my mind.

Like getting married!!!

It has almost nothing to do with teaching the piano. It has much to do with human behavior when the East meets the West. It's sad and brutal. I loved it. I wish my aunt could have read it.

And, yes, it's a love story.


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Heros

We've all been sick at heart reading about the devastation in Haiti this week. It's overwhelming.

I've never been to Haiti but my (first) husband and one of my sons have been there on mission trips. We are all aware that, even prior to the earthquake, it was the most miserable place in the hemisphere in terms of human suffering and poverty.

But I've been heartened by the current disaster response from all over the world. I'm not surprised but I'm heartened. Because we human beings are called to respond to tragedy. And many of us heed the call.

Within 24 hours four hundred doctors flew out of New York to Haiti.

In this morning's paper I read about a young nurse who lives close to me who flew to Haiti with a medical team and medical supplies they'd purchased themselves.

On another note, I visited a Sunday school class last week where people are being heroic in the ways they're helping a couple who are experiencing their own tragedy.

I don't ever have to look far to see people performing miracles.


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The Party

As I've already told you, our wedding was wonderful, with most of our kids and grand kids knocking themselves out to make it that way.


And then this last Sunday night a group of 40 or so friends threw a party for us. I was a bit nervous prior to the party because I do not like being the center of attention - unless I'm in charge!

But this night was spectacular. Not only for Dave and me but for everybody there. It was a celebration of love and life.


A part of this night was a skit depicting our courtship and wedding. It consisted of about a dozen acts, each lasting about 30 seconds, except the last one which was the wedding. It was longer.

You may remember that Dave and I met for the first time in the airport in Chicago after a six month pen pal relationship. Later on he told me he really liked the way I looked but that he was a little put off by my orange hair. (My only explanation for this is that it was September and I'd been swimming almost every day all summer.)

In the skit last Sunday night the woman portraying me was beautiful (as always) except for a bright orange Wendy's pigtail wig.

You may remember in my July 6th posting "The Wedding of My Dreams" I said that I wanted lots of bridesmaid and I wanted them wearing purple dresses with puffy sleeves.

In the last act of the skit there were lots of bridesmaids. At least one of them was male. They all wore purple dresses. And the flower girl was Mrs. Oldie.

After the skit we (the real us) cut the wedding cake and we all had a champagne toast to a long life filled with love.

For all of us.


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The Oldies or the Street?

Besides being personally served their hot breakfast at their table at Panera's on Saturday morning, I've noticed that My Oldies have a new perk.

One of the hairdressers from across the street comes over to tell Mrs. Oldie that it's almost time for her standing hair appointment. Yes, that's right, this guy in hoop earrings comes by the table and gently reminds her.

I thought it was another thing that was unique to My Oldies.

Then, later on this morning, we chit chatted with a friend further up the street and regaled her with the above story. She then allowed as how her boss gets the same kind of treatment from his barber.

They have Saturday breakfast a couple of blocks from Panera's. Occasionally the boss's barber runs across the street to remind him, or to let him know that they're not busy and he can just walk in if he wishes.

So maybe it's these particular merchants on this particular street being accommodating to these particular people.

Whatever it is - in this economy - it's smart.


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The Road Less Traveled.

Years ago I was asked to research and write an article on recreational vehicles, motor homes or, more specifically, Airstream Trailers.

I was amazed to learn that Airstreams enjoy an almost cult-like following.

It seems that many new retirees buy an RV (Airstreams are in a class of their own) and travel the country for two or three years before settling into a normal retirement. One in every 12 American households owns a recreational vehicle.

I don't get it!

And then a year or so ago my good friends, people I admire and respect, bought a motor home. They're a pretty sophisticated couple. Well traveled. She's one of my Power Rangers, a Creative - with a big C.

He's an engineer. Not two people I would ordinarily put in the same room together for very long but they've made it work and have had a long happy marriage. They also have two lovely homes.

So I was more than surprised when they bought this thing - and then astounded when they announced they were going on a long, cross country trip.

They were gone for weeks, and weeks. No word except for an occasional e-mail when she dashed into a library if they happened to be in a state that had them.

I wondered if they would still be married when they came home. Or if maybe just one of them would come home.

Oh, I forgot to mention they have a little short, fat dog that weighs about 80 pounds.

But, to my surprise they all three loved the experience. Came home and bought a larger RV for the next big adventures.

One practical thing they announced that I could relate to: She said that if the recession got much worse they could plant their RV in the Wal-Mart parking lot and live in it.

Now that makes sense to me.


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Integrity

As I say on my profile attached to this blog, my favorite word is "Integrity." I like people who are dripping with it.

It's not just about doing the right thing. It's about doing the right thing for the right reason. It's about being congruent.

It's what I do - and it's who I am!

Right now I'm reading the book pictured here. The person who gave it to me probably doesn't think I need it - but I do.

I read just a little bit every morning (so I can soak it in) as part of my morning devotional.

About four years ago I did something that totally lacked integrity. Was it terrible? No. But it was not the right thing for me and I deeply regret it.

Why did I do it? Because I was afraid of the consequences if I didn't. The consequence would have been embarrassment. Of course, I could have lived with that.

But here's what I want - I want to be a person of integrity. I want to be dripping with it.

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Books

To keep me calm while dealing with Christmas and, oh yes, the wedding stuff, I've been indulging in my favorite kind of recreational reading, psychological thrillers.

Here are a couple that I really liked.

First, "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" by Stieg Larsson.

Larrson was a Swedish writer who died in 2004 at age 50. He left three astoundingly popular thrillers called the Millennium Trilogy. This is the first of the three.

Every person I've talked with who's read the book loved it. One man told me that he read it in two days. This is amazing because it's long, (600 pages) convoluted, meticulous, extraordinarily complicated and thoroughly Swedish.

I didn't start out loving it. It took me almost 200 pages. A family tree chart appears around page 172. Mark this page. It will help you later.

I plan to read the next in the series as soon as I get my Christmas tree down which should be about March.

The next (and older)book, "The Beach House" by James Patterson, one of the most popular novelists in the world, was different. Easier. We listened to half on CD in the car, then got the book from the library. I finished it in one sitting.

I've read a few others in the past month, but these were the best.


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Churches and Bars

Remember when the sitcom "Cheers" was on and everybody was comparing it to what church should be?

...people are all the same. I wanna go where everybody knows my name.

When Dave and I were on our honeymoon at the River Street Inn in Savannah last week we were invited to have wine and appetizers (for free) each evening at 6:00 P.M. It was fun. A nice, cozy bar atmosphere with small tables and comfy chairs.

Instead of sitting alone we walked right up to others and said "May we join you?" They always said yes.

Most everybody we met was headed to Florida. One couple lives pretty close to me. The woman is a hand therapist and gave me the name of a doctor who may be able to help me.

Another couple (older than us) told us in the first five minutes that they weren't married and then told us the reasons. Grown children sometimes make it very difficult when their (elderly) widowed parents fall in love.

We met such interesting people, from professors to radio talk show hosts. Dave is great at asking questions and then actually listening to the answers.

How did we learn to be so forward as to make friends with perfect strangers?

I don't know about Dave but I learned in church!


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I Know You're Tired!

OK, I know you're getting tired of this wedding stuff. I'm almost done.

This photo was taken during the wedding in Atlanta last week. How many personal events are we average people sending all over the world in real time with our cell phones?

Well, not me personally because my cell doesn't take pictures. It barely makes calls.

We're now at home in Florida. In church this morning I was kneeling at the communion rail thinking about how blessed I am.

When my minister came by to place the Body of Christ in my hand he said "Yes, that's a beautiful ring!"

How embarrassing! Honestly, I wasn't trying to show him the ring. Well, maybe I was admiring it myself under those big lights a little bit more than I should have been.

God will forgive me. I'm sure God's gonna give me a couple more days to calm down and get serious.

Oh, by the way, as we knelt, and our other minister came by with the blood of Christ, she congratulated Dave.

As one of my kids likes to say, "It's all good."

We Did It!

We were married on December 28th in Atlanta. There were travel problems for some of our children. Chicago was snowed in. But, those trying to get there, and those who lived there, accomplished heroic feats.

And we appreciate it.

I'm usually pretty quiet about my personal life but I've been blabbing to everybody I meet about the fact that we're married.

How long do you think we've been married?

50 years? 35 years?

No, one day!!!!

In Atlanta we stayed in a sleek, contemporary hotel in downtown Buckhead, the "W." In Savannah we stayed at the River Inn, an old converted cotton gin on the river. In each place they knocked themselves out to make things nice for us.

When we arrived home last night there were only three phone messages. All from Mrs. Oldie.

Where are you? Why didn't you meet us for breakfast?

It will be so much fun when we get to Panera's in the morning and tell them we got married.


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