Waaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

   I realize I have been through some tough stuff, so a little self pity is expected.  I am indulging, ya… I am..

I understand that I am lucky to have my hip just about healed.

And lucky that the cancer I had was easily taken care of.

And Lucky to have lived in a beautiful home with a great landlord

And Lucky to have so many friends help me out from driving me to physical therapy, to sending me money, to getting my groceries, etc.

     But I am feeling sorry for me.  And I am ok with that.  I think it bites that I had cancer and bites that I fell and broke my hip despite efforts to keep my bones strong with exercise and yoga.  I think it bites that my buddy/landlord Paul died and not only did I lose a dear friend, but I now have to move out of the most beautiful home I have ever lived in.  And it bites that I cannot be in the women’s chorus that not only brought me great joy to perform in, but it brought me a group of friends that I hadn’t banked on.  I can’t be in it because I am afraid to go anywhere until the weather changes, unless someone hangs onto me for dear life. 

     My life turned around when I got cancer.  Suddenly, I didn’t want to chat on the phone so much unless it was from fun people.  I didn’t want to take the same jobs that the Bureau of Vocational Rehab was getting for me like sales jobs and customer service and they helped me make a great voice over demo and lots of help promoting it.  I didn’t want half of the “stuff” I owned, so I got rid of things.  And then I moved.  And I felt so much better.  I loved my place and living with Paul was so easy.  I had my own suite upstairs but a lot of time was spent with him and we became friends.  When my family came to town and saw where I lived, their mouths dropped.  My brother said he was so impressed and asked why did it take me so long to move?  I told him that I was waiting for the right place.  The truth is I was just scared.  Moving seemed so difficult.  The places I looked at were either in a bad neighborhood, or out of my price range, or I had to climb too many stairs to get in and out. 

     My belief is sometimes life kicks us out of relationships, jobs and homes when life is ready and you’re too much of a weenie to leave on your own.  And there is a small part of me that sort of would like to get out.  Try something, “else”. 

PHILLIP SEYMOUR HOFFMAN

      I am so sad about Phillip Seymour Hoffman.  And I am sad about the statements people are making.  My friend Michael McCarthy wrote, “PSH died of a disease.”  I was glad to see that.  Heroin cannot be easy to just shake off.  Hell, I'm  still working on sugar.  I realize that putting a needle in your arm is not a good move, but I just don’t know what the circumstances were.  My only thought is that you do that because your life isn’t working.  One thing that always strikes me is that fame seems almost like a trauma.  As wonderful as it must be to doing what you love and to be honored for it, there is something very bizarre in our society that we give so much attention to performers and athletes.  Not to mention money.  To me fame is like having children.  Nobody gives you a manual before it happens.  Everybody just wings it.  Michael also wrote, “It's slightly amusing for some people in my line of work to have to fathom the distant, foreign concept that even an Academy award... might not make it all better.” 

      I pretty much loved everything I have seen PSH in.  I loved him in "Boogie Nights".  He was awkward and uncomfortable and perfect in it.   He was as good in small parts as he was in the big ones.  I loved "Capote"and I loved him in "Doubt".  I liked him in "Joey Breaker" as Joey’s assistant.  Joey is a workaholic talent agent in New York.  For some reason, even that small part had me watching him closely and always relating to whatever character he was playing.  Playing them so “human”, for lack of a better word.  I have missed quite a bit of his work lately but will catch up soon. 

       I am sorry for his children and losing their dad.  And frankly, sorry he won’t be performing anymore.

      

GOODBYE

    I have been trying to write about my landlord, housemate and dear friend Paul’s passing and just haven’t been able to.  I really haven’t felt the grief yet.  I can tell you all the wonderful things he did for me. And all the things I will miss. 

    Mostly, Paul was just really sweet.  I was nervous about moving in here but found out he was so respectful of my privacy.  I didn’t know that we would become great friends.  My favorite time with him was in the morning.   I would get dressed, come downstairs, go into his office and he would be at his computer.  His pug, Bella would be in there with him in her little bed.  I would sit on the floor and play with her and Paul and I would chat. 

   When I first moved here, I started radiation treatments for breast cancer and one morning, he called upstairs and said, “Chrissy...Lunch is ready.”  I thought that was odd since I didn’t know he was making me lunch, but I came downstairs and he had baked crescent rolls with cream cheese and chicken. 

    Paul was so supportive of anything I did.  I belonged to a writer’s group and I don’t have a printer so I would email what I had written for the group to Paul, and say, “Poppy, can you print this for me?”  He would and usually thought what I wrote was good.  I started calling him “Pop” after a while, since he was like a father.  Then it went to “Poppy”.  When he would be staying at his girlfriend’s house, he would write me a note to let the dog out and then he’d sign it, “Love, Poppy.”  He enjoyed the concerts I was in.  He came to about four of them.  He enjoyed meeting the women I sing with.  One time our women’s chorus sang with the North Coast Men’s Chorus and we all went to a gay bar downtown called Union Station.   Paul seemed to love it.  One man stood up on a table and either sang like Judy Garland or Liza Minnelli, I can’t remember.  A few months later, he wanted to know when we were going back, only instead of calling it Union Station, he called it Union Square. 

     One of the most special times I had with Paul was when he took me to Great Lakes Brewery.  It was just the two of us and we had lunch and our beers.  Paul loved beer.  He talked about his wife, and welled up with tears when he said they were so glad she had finally passed because she was in so much pain.  He got emotional about a lot of things.  We went to see the documentary, Bully.  It was about the bullying in our schools and after it was over, he started crying.  There was a mom who’s son had committed suicide from being abused by the kids at school She was inconsolable at that point and was sitting on the floor in her bedroom as her husband tried to help her with this pain.  Paul said through his tears, “Did you see that poor woman who couldn’t even get off the floor?!!"

   This past Christmas he was able to put up his little tree and lights.  Last year, as he was decorating the house, he said he missed the Christmas when his son’s were little and he’d be up all night putting their toys together.  He talked a lot about his boys.  Chris, Matt and Tim. All three live in different states.  I have gotten to know them a little bit better since Christmas when Paul got really sick. They remind me of Paul in one way or another. When he started getting sick, they sprang into action.  Then his sister Peggy came in from California and helped. I don’t know if she got much sleep between staying at the hospital with Paul and taking care of him at home. I can tell you he was in good hands. He spent two nights at home before he died.  The first night I was saying goodbye to his girlfriend Barbara, and figured he didn’t hear me, but he took my hand and kissed it.  The next night, I fell asleep around one and woke up at 5 am.  I knew this was the end and I put my braces and shoes on and grabbed my crutch.  I stopped myself and after a short prayer, I realized that this was just for family.  I went back to bed and the wind chimes outside my window blew gently.  As gentle as Paul was.  I woke up and heard Peggy on the phone.  I went downstairs and she told me Paul took his last breath just moments ago.  Matt was there and Peggy and Bella, Paul’s dog.  All Matt and I had been doing since he came home was joke with each other, but he grabbed me and hugged me crying.  I kept thinking how fortunate I was to know Paul but also to witness the love his family showed him.  I honestly don’t have much else to say.  He loved reading and his friends and his family.  He loved his dog and watching Jeopardy.  He loved animation and exercise.  He was smart and did so much for me that I was almost embarrassed at times to tell people.  I went to my car once and realized I had four new hubcaps.  Two had fallen off and two were cracked.  His girlfriend, Barbara bought them for me and Paul put them on while I was taking a nap or a shower or something. When I was diagnosed with cancer, he took me to many appointments, one at 6:00 am. I will miss his smile and his laughter.  I am lucky to have his dog to keep me company.  I will take with me his sweet spirit and his love.  I am grateful that when we would say goodnight to each other we started saying, “I love you.”  I don’t regret any time I had with him…

  A week ago, when everyone was gone, I went into his office and started crying.  At that moment I heard Paul's Wallace and Gromit alarm clock go off.  It was a gift to him from either his sister or his girlfriend, Barbara, and I never heard it before.  He LOVED Wallace and Gromit British animation.  We would imitate them sometimes.

                                             Time for walkies Gromit!!!!"

                                                      I miss you Poppy.....

                                  

KAREN

     I have watched Karen McCrocklin’s TEDxTalks a few times now, because I can’t seem to get enough.  She talks about how being gay is the best thing that ever happened to her.  I keep asking myself if I feel the same way.  I don’t.  Not yet. Why?  Because I refused to come out even to myself until I was about 40 and was watching my mother dying.  My friend Scott McPherson said when his brother was killed in an accident, he decided to come out of the closet.  Scott was around 21 years old at the time.  I am sure it was a difficult decision to come out.  He was smart, incredibly funny and about the cutest guy you ever wanted to meet.  He wrote a famous play, Marvin’s Room, which was made into a movie and then he died very young of AIDS.  I remember my mother asking me if he had a girlfriend when we were in our twenties.  I said, “Scott isn’t going to have a girlfriend.”  My mother flew into a LOUD kind of talk.  “Is he gay?! Well, that poor mother!!!”  I didn’t want to tell my mother that not only did she herself have a son who was gay, but her daughter was possibly gay as well.  The very thought of it scared me.  I thought that if I'm gay, I will have to kill myself.  That’s how scared I was.  Now, my mother was a great lady, but that would have taken her some time to get used to.  A lot of time.  I almost told her before she died, but I couldn’t.  So now after being out for about 16 years, I watch Karen’s talk.  It’s pretty spectacular and I recommend you take a look.  But when I say, I am out, I am not really out.  I worked a job for about 5 years and I told my supervisor, who said not to tell anybody else that worked there.  It would have made things much more difficult on the job I guess.  I was in a relationship with a beautiful lady at the time, and I didn't tell my co-workers.   My friends know.  My family knows.  But I waited and outed myself once I felt safe.  I have played it safe for many years.  I used to listen to Karen’s radio show on Hay House Radio and she would start out the show saying, “It’s a great day to be gay.”  It wasn’t sunshine and pink flowers.  She spoke honestly and with a great deal of humor.  The last thing she says in this video is, “My name is Karen.  And being a lesbian is the best thing that ever happened to me."  I have had the honor of connecting with Karen and when I saw this I told her I wish I'd of had her courage many years ago.  She replied, "You have it now."

My name is Chris and being gay is the best thing that ever happened to me.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pj2YxCAnqx0#t=994

FACEBOOK

      So, last night I posted my blog on Facebook and then somehow deleted it.  Not sure how that all happened.  What I wrote was how depressed I was, I received wonderful responses from all of you.  I chatted on line with a dear friend who helped me alot as well.  Sometimes, just saying how lousy I feel makes me feel better, so thank you Kathy Sullivan and EVeryone who responded with incredible kindnesses.  
       I was trying to find the gift in breaking my hip in my last blog and I think it's mostly seeing the kindness so many people have shown me.  That's it.  
       When my father died, several people said, "What are YOU going to do?!!!"  They were not only worried but almost angry with me.  I was working part time and receiving disability and I guess that was not enough. Well, I'm doing it.  I am living my life the best I can like everyone else.  
      What I have been forced to do for a while now is ask for help.  I think that's fine.  Giving someone a chance to help is a beautiful thing.  
      My sadness comes at times when I see others achieve their dreams and realize I have yet to achieve mine.  I have a hard time looking on Facebook and seeing everyone's life.  I have difficulties figuring out if I am just being a wimp about things or genuinely in physical distress.  And that's been my dilemma now for 33 years.  And then Kathy reminded me that we are not our bodies.  I would add that we are not our achievements either.  
       Having said that,  in the last two years since the cancer diagnosis, I have accomplished way more than before.  I got off my ass more.
       So, thank you one and all for your thoughtful words last night.  I was ready to pack it all in and pull the covers over my head until something good happened.  Instead, I told you the truth and you sent love. 

HOME

     I had a lovely father’s day.  Even though my father has been gone for so long, it still was sweet.  My landlord and friend Paul, has three grown boys that live out of town, so his girlfriend Barbara, and I took him out to dinner.  I wanted him to know how much he means to me.  I bought a lovely card and when I took it out of the bag, there was only an envelope and no card.  There was no time to get another one and I didn’t worry about it.  When I went into his office in the afternoon, he had a nice shirt and dress pants on.  I told him how nice he looked and he said, “Well I have a hot date.”  The restaurant was almost empty when we arrived as most folks were sitting outside.  We sat in a corner and the three of us giggled while we ate.  Everything was so quiet. The waiter took great care of us.  I don’t know, sometimes, I just like to relax with others.  It makes life sweeter.  When I was growing up, these special days could be very stressful for one reason or another, but this day was peace.  I think one reason is that Paul was eager to “receive” and let these two women be nice to him.  He has done so much for me that I wanted to express my gratitude.  When I had cancer last year, he drove me to many appointments. I lived about twenty minutes away.  After I moved here, he drove me to my first radiation treatment and then when treatments were done, he and Barbara took me out to celebrate.  It will be a year since I moved.  I took forever to get out of my old place.  I couldn’t find an apartment that would work for me.  I think I was just waiting for this beautiful home with a perfect friend.  Not too long ago, we sang a song in chorus titled, “Home is Where the Heart Is”.  My heart is here.