Robin.

Why??  Did it hurt that bad?  Why were you alone?  It hurts so much, Robin.  My heart hurts, I can't stop crying.  Please tell me it's a joke.  It's not true.  Peter Pan can't die, he can't.
I am a clinically depressed person.  I am on medication.  I have to take that medication or I am not a civilized, rational person.  Were you on meds, did you stop taking them or did they make you feel nothing, or you had the wrong dose?
You see, I have to blame someone.  I can't blame him, I can't, because he had a sickness that killed my uncle, that killed you.  Was no one there????  To do that you had to take time, to think about it.
I just do not want this to be true.
I made him laugh once.  He was at the Comedy Store in LA.  He was so funny.  I had my Mork suspenders on and he said, "Na noo Na Noo" and I gave him a Vulcan peace sign back and he said, "You speak it with an accent,"  which was very funny and he laughed.  He was my 22nd birthday present from friends that knew I needed a laugh.  I was so down, Robin. I was so on the floor at that point.
I was not diagnosed with clinical depression until about ten years ago.  It took several meds to find the right one and I am on them and will stay on them because I cannot imagine being that person again that was not on meds.  My poor Robin, were you on meds?
Oh I love you. I love you so much.
You poor baby.  I love you.  I am going to miss you so much.

Mothers Day

Mothers Day

It's funny.  I had many mothers.  The one that I lived the first four years of my life is, for the most part,  is vacant from my memory.  Is it the trauma of her going as she did or is it just I was too young to remember her?  I have heard of children as young as three or less remembering their mom who died.  I have 2 vague pictures.

I was little.  A tall woman was by the kitchen sink at our farm.  She was smiling and it was sunny in the room.  I gripped the wood of the counter and watched as she took her teeth out of her mouth and washed them under the faucet.  Why?  She smiled and it was lovely.  It was encouraging.  Perhaps she didn't want me to be afraid.  I can feel the frown between my eyes, and the thought that went through my head.

I should be able to do that, if she can!

Reaching into my mouth, I tugged at my teeth.  They remained stubbornly stuck, right there, set in stone.  And the lady laughed out loud.  A real smile and just the biggest laugh you can imagine.  And then we were both laughing.  It was wonderful.

The other is a dim one.  She wore a pink dress and her cheeks were too bright.  The place was full of our friends, and people who loved to kiss me, and hug me.  Wandering around I looked at all the faces and sunk into a large chair that swiveled.  I started spinning it and laughing.  Someone, maybe Dad,  told me to stop.  Then, he held me in his arms and we looked down at the lady in peachy pink dress that laid there so quietly.  Would she wake up?  Why can't we all just go home now?  And take her with us?

The next thing was playing tea party with my Aunt Irma back at the farm and everyone was too quiet.  And she was not there.  She never came back.

The lady in the chair is my Mom.  She had multiple sclerosis.  My sister is about the right age and my Mom looks pregnant.  So this is really the only photo of her and I together.  I was told she didn't care to have photos taken and I do wish there was at least one of us side by side. 

Sue said once my Mom and I got along like peaches and cream.  She was so pretty.  I got my Dad's side of the family, although my niece Khristeen looks just like her. 

She was born in 1919.  She was my mother. I don't know if I called her Mom, or Mommy, or Mama, but you know what?  I loved her a lot.  Even now, she's been dead fifty years and I get tears in my eyes.  There is a lot of hurt there.

My father re-married a woman five months later and I spent a great deal of the next 30 years trying hard not to "hurt her feelings".  She did not want me in her house, she wanted a family of her own and not leftovers from someone else.  I got hit a lot, but I had a swift mouth and did tell her several times she wasn't my mother.

PLEASE...if you have a child and it loses a parent don't sweep it under the rug and let it fester with the love of that parent buried until it's too late.  It's hard for my brothers and sisters to speak of her, and when they do it's carefully, so I won't be hurt.  My father only said something when I asked a direct question, like, "When did you marry Mom?"

He sounded confused at first, and I wonder if he actually thought I was talking about my stepmother.  She was not my mother.  Then, carefully, he remembered.  This all was while we were on the phone.  I barely spoke to him, hardly saw him, for a good 30 years.  I had nothing to say and thought he had nothing to say to me.  I had walked out of their home when I was 17.  I did NOT look back.

"We were married in 1941," he said.  "I saw her coming down the street and she looked pretty good." 

That was it. 

So...I have what my grandma told me.  I have the glow in my brothers' eyes when they talk about her, and my sister giving me as much as she can.  You see, we all still hurt.  She was only 43 when she died.  She had an infection and she died.

In the meantime, do I know what it's like to have a mothers love because when I did move out of their house (never a home) I was taken in by a woman and her husband who showed me what having parents was all about.  That loved me for me and wanted me with them,  They shared so much, and made me a whole person, after a fashion.

My sister raised me and taught me to behave. She prayed for me as did my Aunt Irma and each and every day made sure I was in their thoughts.  They gave me God and taught me that we all have a wonderful Mother in heaven who loves us.  I grew to believe in that and knowing my 'real' mother and grandmother will be there waiting someday rests in my heart and starts to satisfy the hurt.

You bless every moment your mom is on this earth.  Love all the women who form the scaffold that is your life and thank them.  Happy Mothers Day.

Without her there may not have been. . . .

I heard someone say today, "Who was Shirley Temple?"
Well, she was a little girl.  She grew up to be a lovely person with a family.  She had a mother and father that loved her very much and brothers and a home.  Her father was a banker.  He didn't try to run her career.  Mrs. Temple was good to this little child, she did not push her into the business and her interest was that of a mother who loved her little child with all her heart and soul.  In the 30's you hear of stage mothers but Mrs. Temple was a person who saw a baby that loved music.  In Shirley's autobiography she tells how her mother played pretty music and kept flowers and things of beauty around the house so she would have a little girl.  Shirley already had brothers.  She was the baby and from the moment she could stand or support herself on her crib she danced.  She wiggled.  We see this in all our babies, the first time they react to something and smile.  Her mother saw a child that needed an outlet for energy and got her in dance class.

She was discovered by a small studio and did short films -- it was the only time she recalls any abuse as a child--punishment for a mistake was locking the child in a closet.  Her relationship with her mother was such that when she told her what happened her mother put a stop to it.  No threat that her child would 'never work in films again' deterred Mrs. Temple.  Fine, no films, but you will not harm or scare my child.  Period.  Her mother made all her little costumes and stayed close and kept Shirley secure.
Then she was discovered by Fox.   In the depression the only studios doing 'well' were MGM and Warners.  Fox was not but Shirley saved that studio.  Her films made people happy, it took them away from whatever fears they had and encouraged them.

Another thing I heard today was her films are racist or dated.  They only show black people as slaves or beneath the whites in her films. This is not true.  Bill Robinson was the GREATEST tap dancer that ever lived.  He shared with Shirley a great love for dance, treated her like a equal and was so proud of her.  She didn't count her steps--she was too little.  She listened.  And no one could dance better together than her and Bill.

And hey, he bought Shirley her very first car.  She was the terror of the studio until someone put a muffler on it.  It was no longer fun after that.  Her parents taught her that there was no color when it came to people.  She lived that way her whole life, as an ambassador, as a person, as a parent.  Her films, if anything, show equality and the goodness that is there, deep down, when a child loves someone.

This is probably my favorite image of Shirley.  It is not a publicity photo taken by a big studio.  Her parents had it taken like all parents do, when they want a memory of their baby and put it in a frame to keep that moment always.  A little smock, a pretty bow in her hair and that beautiful, solemn face.  Twinkle, Shirley.  You are a star now and forever.

I've Been Watching Joan Crawford Since 8pm Yesterday....
I am astonished.
Not that I haven't been amazed by her before, she is dazzling.  Especially in her younger days.  Not just some Moon face with lots of makeup and tulle.

Ok, so she's wearing a lot of makeup.  Without it she was pretty, too.

No makeup.  Oh, you're thinking she abused her kids, what a horrible person.  So they say.  I was abused as a child. I was beaten up at night for no reason except I was in the same house with my stepmother.  She hit me with brooms across my back, screamed abuse and all that stuff.  I can smell a fake when I see one, someone who is luxuriating in the interest and sympathy.  Christine Crawford had her issues with her mother and has been as honest as she saw it.  I wasn't there.  I do love the talent this woman had and I guess I will leave it at that.
As I sat and watched everything from "The Unknown" with the GREAT Lon Chaney Sr to "Laughing Sinners", sound and silent, I can not believe the work this woman did.  Today's actresses /actors seem to complain if they work more than 2 movies back to back.  Imagine being in your office, not only doing your job, but the next persons and the next persons and even the manager.  She did every type of part.  From the ones she is known for--the campy ones--to these delicate parts where she is with Clark Gable and she's the star.  Imagine that no one knew who that guy with the big ears was???  But she glows. And every kind of part, from circus performer to taxi dancer, to wealthy, to very poor.  Not just one type but all types.  And she worked until she was well past the age she could stop because she loved it.
And yes, she loved the attention she got, too.
This little kid--her father gone when she was very little and her mother working here and there, and always telling her that her brother was so much better than she was.  Joan paid for their lives with the work she did.  No wonder she scrubbed her own floors and raised her kids to do chores and get a backbone.  She danced on stage, and went to Hollywood and by baby steps became a big star.  She did what she had to, to become a Star.

When she won her Oscar she was home in bed.  She said she was sick.  I think she was scared.

She never neglected her fans, or her family.  Just before she died she gave away her beloved dog, a little poodle, because she knew it was the end and she didn't want her baby to be placed with someone that would be any less loving than she was.

And did you think this would be a brutal, critical thing?  No.
I love Joan Crawford.  January on TCM will be a good month--she's on every Thursday night.  Take in some films.  It's a lot of fun and and maybe you will love her, too.