Underdog

Things are fine when I sit down, but when I stand up, things go round and round.

The quote is from that wise philosopher, Underdog, the superhero canine who spent days as a mild mannered shoeshine boy, but whenever anyone was in trouble (particularly his girlfriend Sweet Polly Purebred, for whom our Polly is named) he turned into Underdog and fought the bad guys like Simon Bar Sinister.

I was feeling a bit queasy and dizzy when I got up, hence the Underdog quote, which sparked a spate of quotes we threw back and forth at each other.

I wonder if our kids remember the cartoons they watched as children as much as I do.

I spent the day in the recliner with an NCIS marathon, when I wasn't rushing off to the bathroom.  NCIS marathons are perfect for days like this because I have seen every episode of NCIS many times so if I fall asleep in the middle of one and wake up in the middle of the other it doesn't matter because I know how the previous one ended and know how the current one started.  I can just doze off whenever the mood strikes me and not lose the plot lines.

In the evening (when I was feeling better), it was time for the Golden Globes.  I didn't blog them like I have in the past, but I have some good memories.  The thing I wanted to know ever since the red carpet is .... why do women not brush or comb their hair any more. Logic tells me that those messy heads are actually carefully fixed by hairdressers, but to me it just looks like they never got around to combing their hair--or got caught in a strong wind on the way to the show.

There were lots of beautiful gowns on the red carpet (doesn't anybody wear Indian headdresses or swans around their neck any more?), but the one that took my breath away whenever I saw it was Kate Hudson's.  Just gorgeous.

I thought Tina Fey and Amy Pohler's opening monologue was fun, but probably good this is their last time hosting.  They really raked Bill Cosby over the coals.  I think even the audience was surprised.

The evening started on a good note, with J.K. Simmons winning an award as supporting actor for Whiplash.  Now most people know Simmons more for his Farmers Insurance commercials...and I'd never heard of Whiplash, but I do enjoy watching him and liked his sitcom last year (apparently not renewed).

I was also delighted with Joanne Froggatt's win in the supporting actress category.  I love the character of Anna on Downton Abbey and was happy to see her getting an award for it.

Another win that made me happy was Matt Bomer for The Normal Heart.  I have liked him since the very first episode of the now-defunct White Collar and thought his performance in a serious drama was wonderful.  I liked that he thanked his husband and their three children.

I was also pleased that Jeffrey Tambour won for Transparent.  I binge watched that show a couple of months ago was impressed with the sensitivity that the series brought to the lives of transgendered people.  

There were shows and movies I'd never heard of, and some I had chosen not to watch because I didn't have the time, but The Affair had so many nominations that I may have to binge watch that and see what I've been missing.

I had not heard of the movie Still Alice, for which Julianna Moore won an award, but apparently it's about Alzheimers, so I'll have to find that to watch.

The Foreign Press awarded so many of the oddball choices that I wonder if it's going to be any indication of what will happen later at the Oscars and Emmys.

But I'm an awards show junkie, so I'll be watching, and maybe by the time the Emmys roll around, I'll be better informed about the shows I should have watched last season.

Despite, as George Clooney pointed out, 80% of the room were losers, from the quality of performances represented, I'd say not a one of them was an Underdog.

The New Underground Railway

I have a story to share, which I got from my friend Gabi Clayton, in Washington state.  (Walt and I stayed with her and her husband Alec last year when we went to Olympia to see Steve in concert.)

Gabi is one of the founders of a group of Quakers called "Friends New Underground Railroad."  It began in April last year when several people heard from friends in Uganda -- both gay and straight -- that lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgendered folks were encountering grave threats to their lives and safety and the situation was getting worse because of the impact of the soon-to-be-enacted-anti-homosexuality law.  People were being kicked out of homes, fired from employment, removed from colleges and universities, denied medical care and hospitals, pursued by mobs, beaten, and sometimes killed.  

Gabi writes, "While they understood the risk to their own lives and those of their families, our friends there were prepared in the manner of the Underground Railroad which operated in the United States prior to the Civil War, to conduct people to safety in more welcoming countries."

Gabi and her friends took their concerns to a Quaker meeting and the group adopted the effort to support the work of these brave Ugandans as their own project.  As of today, the group has funded the passage of 715 people (including eight children, six straight allies, and 33 people who identify as transgendered) to flee from Uganda.  Many of them are now in their final countries of destination -- Canada, Sweden, Rwanda, South Africa, Norway, Denmark, South Africa, France, the Netherlands, Germany and Ireland.  Some of their stories can be read here.

That so much pain can be inflicted in the name of Christ is inconceivable and certainly must cause great pain to Jesus himself.

Gabi says "we are still mourning the loss of our conductor, Tony.  Tony was pressed into service when his predecessor, S, was beaten so badly he suffered intracranial hemorrhaging, a broken skull and multiple rib contusions requiring a very difficult medical evacuation.  We understand that S is now in detention in Canada awaiting a hearing on his request for permanent refugee/asylum status.

"Tony was a 35 year old pharmacist with no experience in the matter of leading passengers to safety.  But with his daring, great resolve, and a huge heart for people, in three months, working himself sick, he engineered the escape of almost 280 passengers, including five children.  Returning from his last mission Tony suffered a blood clot in his lung, which was traveling to his heart.  He was operated on successfully, but when he returned to the ward, it was found that he had been doing all of this work with the Friends while suffering from malaria, typhoid, active tuberculosis, worms, bacterial dysentery and severe malnutrition."

Gabi says their work is far from over and that the Ugandan Parliament is very close to voting on a new anti-homosexuality bill, even worse than the last.  Among other provisions, those who house, feed, transport, or assist gay people in any way can be subject to up to 10 years in prison.

"Friends New Underground Railroad is operated by Africans for Africans.  Our role is to tell their stories and to raise funds to support them in the brave and remarkable tasks they have taken on for LGBT Ugandans."

Each escape costs between $55 and $185, depending on the route, mode of transportation, and interim destination.  There have been some other expenses such as medical care and temporary lodging while passengers wait to cross into other countries.

Gabi has asked that her friends share her story and the desperate needs for funds to save as many of these LGBT Ugandans as possible.  So I am publishing the story here and hoping that some will take the time to visit their web site and consider helping a bit.  I know that we are all inundated by requests for worthy causes, but this one is literally a matter of life and death.

It pains me sorely that I am forbidden by Compassion to talk with my 20 year old sponsored Ugandan child, Shallon, about my feelings regarding this hateful bill and the attitude of Ugandan citizens toward LGBT citizens.

My Secret Wish

I suppose it's not such a "secret" wish if I'm going to write about it, but here it is.

I am hoping my mother goes to sleep tonight...and just doesn't wake up.  I know that's a terrible thing to say, but we had the very best lunch ever today. 

The day started with my appointment with my doctor for the dreaded annual exam.  I had geared up for a tongue-lashing, which was not forthcoming, thank goodness.  I also shared more with her today than I think I have shared with her in the years (~10) that she has been my doctor.  She also prescribed the anti-depressant therapist Debbie suggested I take.

Then she sent me to x-ray to check on the pain I've had for months--maybe more than a year--in my coccyx.  

When I was sitting in the tiny dressing room at Kaiser waiting to have my lower back x-rayed, I realized how late it was and called my mother to remind her I was coming for lunch, but that I would be late and not to go without me.

The x-ray took about 2 minutes and I was going to stop by the pharmacy to pick up the new meds, but the line was out the door, so I decided to go to Atria first and then come back to Kaiser to get the pills.

The visit started out the same as always, telling me she was feeling disoriented and that she hates it when she occasionally has days like that (she doesn't realize that she tells me that every day), that she feels old, that her brain isn't working, etc.

I was happy to see that she seems to be caught up on her meds.  I was afraid that she had forgotten to take them every day.

While we were walking to lunch, something I said struck her as funny and she started giggling.  She was in a giddy mood all through lunch and everything made her laugh.  It was just a delight.  A lot of times she told me things that didn't make any sense, but she thought it hilarious and giggled.  She talked about men and sex and food and being old, and losing her mind, and other people in the dining room, and said that even her teeth don't work any more (said she puts food in her mouth and she forgets what she's supposed to do with it). Everything made her giggle and I was so happy to share her giddiness.

When we got back to the apartment, she sunk into her chair again and the depression was back, but they can't take away that fun luncheon.  I realize that what I need to do is just take these gems of days as they come, enjoy them to the fullest, and let them sustain me when we talk for the thousandth time about living to hunnert or why she's the last of her family still alive.

As I left, she threw her arms around me, hugged me tight and told me she loved me.

But if there is a kind, compassionate God, my mother will just quietly pass out of this life tonight and take those giggles with her to heaven.

When I left Atria, I went back to Kaiser, happy that the line in the pharmacy was non-existent and I could pick up my meds right away.

Then I came home and had "the talk" with my computer guru.  He is going to investigate what he can build for me (which will be nice because then he will know it inside and out).  He also says that some of the data on my dead computer may be recoverable, which is good news.  I realize I have been going through a mourning period for the beloved desktop and have kind of come to peace with losing the data I have lost (thank GOD I have two external hard drives which have most of my information stored there, more than I realized), so any information he can retrieve will be wonderful bonus.

I had the breaking in process.  I do not upgrade happily, but I know that when I have finally done it, I will be better off...because I know that this laptop is also on its last legs and I need to be switched over before it dies too.

Today at Logos

It was mid October the last time I wrote a Logos entry.  What with all the events surrounding Mike's death, my going to Iowa for 3 weeks and the Thursday after my return being a basket cast and unable to work, then going to Santa Barbara, Christmas Day and New Year's Day (both Thursdays) the store was closed, today was the first time I'd worked in a very long time.  It was nice to be back.  I did work the week before Christmas, but that was the day when I worked 4 hours and had 6 customers and most of the sales were to myself.

But returning to Logos today was like starting to return to normal.  There was Sandy again when I arrived and we chatted, then a friend of hers came in and Sandy introduced me as Bev.  When we started talking about a play I had just seen and I mentioned that the review should be printed today, the woman said "Oh, you're the famous Bev Sykes."  That was a surprise.

So here are the highlights of the day.  A guy who looks like our friend Dick in Santa Barbara looked through the cookbook section and went ecstatic about "Coyote Cafe," which prompted a discussion between us about Chez Panisse.  

He told me he was a connoisseur of good restaurants around the world and I asked him for suggestions.  He said that "anything in Paris is wonderful."  About this time a woman came in and sauntered over to the cookbooks too.  He kind of said in a whisper that of course the best chef in this area was her.  But he didn't tell me the name of her restaurant.  I found out her name was Janet.

He and Janet went their separate ways looking around the store. He came back a couple of times and made allusions to Janet's cooking being the best in the area.  I figured when one of them left I would get her name from the other one.  But they started leaving at the same time and I called him back to ask where her place was.  Turns out she was his wife and he was referring to her home cooking.

It was pretty full most of the afternoon, so I didn't take detailed notes.  A girl who had the look of all the female stars of a certain age in Hollywood today bought a book of poems by Yeats.  A guy who looked like our next door neighbor bout Cannery Row and a history of the Gold rush.

A woman with a limp carried in two big boxes of books to donate. I found out later that she was another volunteer.  At 3, Frank, the window washer, came in to wash the windows, inside and out.  He walked in with many cloths hanging from his tool belt and a squeegee in his hand.  "You must be the window washer," I said,  He feigned surprise and asked if I was psychic.

An androgynous person was checking out literature.  There were abundant curls in a pony tail at his/her neck, several earrings in each ear.  I was trying not to be too obvious about deciding if it was a woman or a man until I looked at his feet....with feet that size he had to be a man (his deep voice when he spoke told me I was right).  He bought a copy of "Walden."

Why do people come into an empty store and whisper at you? Are they afraid I might actually hear them (not bloody likely with the current state of my hearing).  A nice girl approached me tentatively to ask a question and then came back later to say something else as she handed me the books she had chosen (a book by Milton and a book of Dutch verbs).  I never did hear anything she said!

Another old fart came in, bald head, grey beard, wearing all denim.  He browsed for so long I thought he had left, but he finally brought me 2 books on Japanese art and a photo book of nature stuff. I thought of my friend and how if he had come in first, he probably would have purchased the Japanese art books.

A Muslim-looking woman dressed in black, with a hijab on her head had the most shockingly bright chartreuse shoelaces I'd ever seen!

A student, sniveling, with a red nose and earphones in his ears asked if we had used textbooks.  He left when I told him we did not.

A girl in a skin-tight A's jacket bought seven books -- three histories, 2 Shakespeare plays, and two contemporary fiction.  She and her male companion are both teachers.  I was really interested in the book they bought on the development of the Oxford English Dictionary.

A couple sat on the floor with sheet music spread out around them.  She eventually bought about $30 worth of music.  They were not the first grouping to spend time sitting on the floor reading.

My friend came in at 5.  It was good to see him after all these weeks.  After all the confusion of the past 3 months, it's nice to get back to a routine again.

What's New with YOU?

I had lunch with my friend Kathy today.  We usually have lunch together once a month and have been doing it for over 15 years.  While she was still working, we ate at the Olive Garden in Sacramento because she would have to get back to work.  Now that she is retired, we eat in Davis and she is the one to make the long drive across the causeway that separates Davis from Sacramento.

Our friendship goes back to my early days in Davis, when I started La Leche League here and a committee was working to plan a LLL convention in Sacramento.  Kathy was with the LLL group in Sacramento and she, Samantha (from Davis) and I became good friends while planning the event.

As our kids grew older and we both started working and eventually both left La Leche League, we kind of drifted apart, but our paths were unexpectedly brought back together when I joined PFLAG after the murder of Matthew Shepard.  Our kids were grown up then I was working at the Lamplighters at the time and had a host of gay friends and felt I needed to Do Something in the aftermath of that terrible crime.

To my surprise, I found that Kathy was the leader of the PFLAG group in Sacramento, her son having come out some years before.  Through PFLAG, we renewed our friendship and I even helped her arrange to bring Steve to Sacramento for a PFLAG event.

Eventually we started our lunch traditions, though our paths to not cross in the weeks between our lunches.  We don't e-mail or telephone.  We use our lunches to get caught up on each other's lives.  

Over the years, we have had amazing lunches, dealing with the highs and lows in each other's lives, travelogues (her son and his husband live in London, and she travels there frequently, as well as taking other trips), we discuss politics, both sharing the same passions and the same frustrations.  When our lunches end, I always feel reinvigorated.

As I said, we usually meet once a month, but we haven't gotten together since September since I was getting ready to go to France and she had travel to visit her son coming up and then there were the holidays to get through.  So today was our first lunch in four months.

Needless to say there was a lot to get caught up on!

"What's new with you?"

"Well, we didn't go to France because our friend died, my cousin got cancer and I went to Iowa instead, we had a disjointed holiday, which was fun but still... disjointed... my mother's dementia is worsening, my computer died, and I've started therapy.  What's new with you!?"

She didn't have as much to report, but did get me caught up on her life and future plans (taking a trip to Selma in April, a dream she has talked about for years).

We also did our usual political wrap up, the attack in Paris today, the foibles and misdeeds of Congress critters, theater shows and movies we have seen, despair at the condition of the world at the moment.

We sat at Bistro 33, our new "regular place" for an hour and a half while we got our monthly "fix" and then we set a date for our next meeting.

If we both lived in the same neighborhood, I don't know that we would spend time together, but I thoroughly enjoy our monthly lunches and look forward to them.

When lunch was over, I drove over to the entrance to the UCD Arboretum to take a picture of the "shovel gateway" that was erected last year.  I've decided to try to become more active on Instagram and thought that would make an interesting picture.

All in all, a fun rewarding afternoon.

Something Strange is Happening

It's a strange new world.  For years...decades...my sleep has been erratic and most days I function on 4-5 hours of sleep, or less.  I just took it for granted that I just didn't need as much sleep as most people.

Lately, I've been sleeping.  I've been going to sleep when I feel sleepy, rather than forcing myself to stay up and finish my journal entry (which then wakes me up and starts me doing other things on the computer), and I've been sleeping a reasonable number of hours.  The other morning I woke up at 10:45!!!  I couldn't believe it.  I had been awake for a couple of hours during the middle of the night, but added together, I had slept 8 hours.  That was unheard of.

I sometimes laugh when I focus on how much (or little) sleep I had in a night.  Gilbert was a terrible insomniac and obsessed with his inability to sleep.  Whenever I saw him...and sometimes he would call me to check in...the primary topic of conversation was how little sleep he had the night before.  I didn't want to get like that, but it seemed (seems?) like I'm there already.

I read somewhere recently that a normal sleep is sleeping for a few hours, being up for a couple of hours and then going back to sleep. I can't remember who said that but I found it comforting because that's exactly how I sleep--and am becoming more "normal" in my hours of sleep.  

Which is a round-about way of saying I chose to sleep last night instead of writing this entry.  Walt has just come in here complaining that he woke up and didn't get his Funny the World today  I told him to wait a few minutes and it would be up.  This is, after all, the day that the entry is date, though I usually write it the night before.

Yesterday I had my second meeting with Debbie, my new therapist.  I had to confess to her that I had done none of her suggested things concerning meditation exercises because of the confusion of the last few weeks.  I also expected to have started on the anti-depressant she wanted me to take, but my primary care physician said she didn't want to prescribe it until she had seen me, and, since she has been on vacation until this week, I have not seen her yet.

I thought I had an appointment on Monday and got myself all emotionally geared up for the scolding I knew I was in for and dragged myself to Kaiser, only to be told that my appointment was for Tuesday, not Monday, and Tuesday morning our car was being taken in for an oil change.  So I didn't start the anti-depressant and now I have to go through the emotional gear-up all over again on Friday.

But I feel like with the start of the new year, I'm kind of cleaning house and organizing myself.  Working with Debbie I think is going to be very productive.  After I've seen Dr. Akanda, I will be free and clear for another year (whether or not I actually do all the things she wants me to do).

I am also realizing that I am way past the time when I should get my glasses replaced.  I needed a new prescription two years ago and just have never gotten around to doing it...and after struggling to hear a recent show I was reviewing, I know that I have to bite the bullet and get hearing aids.  There is no logical reason why I haven't done any of these things (and it's one of the things I am discussing with Debbie...why I put off doing things that would take care of me)

Also, I have to bite the bullet and call my computer guru and decide what to do about my computer situation.  I just don't want to hear that it is dead and there is no hope of recovering the data stored on the hard drive.  But I've been working with the laptop (which also is in serious need of work) and have realized that things are not quite as bad as I feared.  Yes, I have lost massive amounts of data that I will never get back, but I did a WordPerfect back-up to my external hard drives in 2011, so it's only the data from the last 3 years that is gone.  That in itself is terrible, but it isn't as catastrophic as I originally feared.

So with all this new sleep I'm getting, maybe some of the cobwebs that have been accumulating in my head are starting to be swept away.

When the Well Runs Dry

When I started this journal in March of 2000, I did it for a couple of reasons, mostly inspired by my friend Steve Schalchlin, the fifth person ever to post an on-line journal.  But what I really wanted to do was to see if I could write a daily newspaper column.

I had long admired Erma Bombeck and dreamed of having a column like hers. On the off chance that The Davis Enterprise was ever looking for a writer for a column like that, I wondered if it could be me.

I tried to produce an ~750-850 word column every day...and discovered that I could, though I also found out that it was waaay harder to be Erma Bombeck than it seems on the surface.  I still haven't done that.

Well, eventually they offered me the job of theater critic, a job I have enjoyed for 15 years now, and there came a time when they did want someone to write a journal entry once a week and the job went to Marion Frank, a wonderfully talented writer who approaches my Erma aspirations more often than I do.

Recently she was stuck for something to write about.  It happens to all of us.  You know the deadline is looming and there is just nothing there.  As it happened it was around Christmas time.  While her family traditionally had a big celebration on Christmas eve, this year their children would not be arriving until Christmas day.  It would be the first year she and her husband would be alone on Christmas eve.

Then she got a flyer from Capital Stage in Sacramento, advertising its holiday show, Santaland Diaries (apparently she didn't get her information from my review. Harumph.  But let it pass) and she decided maybe they would have their "Jewish Christmas" ("I'm half Jewish myself," she admits), go to a nice Chinese restaurant for dinner and then see Santaland Dairies.

The truth is, I had two concerns that were prompting me to buy tickets. I was afraid of possible loneliness on Christmas Eve and I needed to produce a column by Jan. 1.

When she bought the tickets only 8 other tickets had been sold and she figured that writing about how a comedian does a one-man show for a handful of people would be an interesting angle.  But by the time the show arrived, about half the house was full so it wasn't going to be interesting to write about the lack of patrons.

She and her husband tried to check out the audience to see the kinds of people who go to the theater on Christmas night, but found them all just ordinary looking.

My husband and I left the theater saying to each other that Christmas Eve out isn’t very different from a normal night out. We weren’t having a unique experience and — worse yet — I didn’t have a column.

But she did.  She wrote a whole column about how she tried to find something to write about...but came up dry.

When I don't have anything to write about, I usually turn to an old meme that I saved years ago.

Tonight, however, I could write about my fellow writer, who was having the same problem I was tonight.