Alzheimer Dad

Dad's been gone since 2003.  I had my brain aneurysm while he was dying in hospice in El Paso, my poor cranium unable to process his demise, his horrible illness of Alzheimers. He asked us to pull the plug long before he became non compos mentis, and he died slowly in the searing desert heat, with the nurses pushing tranquillizer suppositories on my sister and me, the tacit understanding being if we put my Dad down to hasten his end, they would  not  be in the way.  In fact they were trying to facilitate the experience.  He was such a good singer, but really didn't get where he could have gone, had he had better management. His girlfriend asked why he hadn't gone far on his own, after his group, the Encores broke up.  Had he had a good manager, a financier, a backer, he would have  done more. .  I can only analyze now. He decided to be a work a daddy, and worked as a sales guy and a wedding singer in order to bring in dough to buy houses, and swimming pools, and cars  and boats and months in summer camps and piano lessons and tap lessons and lavender bushes and doll houses, and acting schools and film schools, and university fees and interior decorators and horseback riding lessons.  He supported half of my mother's family at some time or another, Christmas gifts for the indigent members of the fold.  He loved politics, particularly populist politics.  He hated monarchs, but admired the rich, especially those who never had to work for their living.  His last girlfriend had been a trust fund baby, and he admired her family as much as they detested his.  He didn't value his working class roots as much as he could have.  He wanted my sister and I to live like rich kids, or his perception of what that was.  He sacrificed his career for his family, because the music industry was too iffy for his Depression Era values.  When he died, I had headaches that were due to the blood leaking in my head, which I had attributed to grief.  Only years later, during yoga class, was I able to leak thick viscous tears that had been deeply embedded in my tissue.  When I would try to cry when I had 50 staples in my skull, the pain would make me stop. I would lay in the cold little room and sob, and take aspirin, and attempt to get to the bathroom to pee or to the kitchen to eat directly from the refrigerator.   I moved the sofa into the dining room, and watched tv sideways for months following surgery.  Noone visited  me in my Staten Island isolation ward, and I ate ice cream, looked around the rooms seeing double, and practiced not dribbling liquids down the front of my chest.   One of my eyes had gone out of whack, owing to the pressure of the aneurysm on the optic nerver behind my  eye. I was dropping crumbs like a child or a senile senior.  I didn't give a shit.  I ignored my love interest, refusing his phone calls.  I gained weight.I figured I was supposed to die, only I had a teenaged boy at home, to raise, so I pushed on.  Happy Father's Day, Phil.  I miss you.

In the 1960's and 1970's if you went to Shea Stadium to
watch Joe Namath play football with the Jets on a sub-zero Sunday morning,
you heard Phil Whelan belt out the Star Spangled Banner. Bassist
and vocalist with the Bob Cleveland Orchestra, Phil
sat on the 50 yard line with 16 other members of the
band, and played and sang opening ceremonies and half
time entertainment.
Raised in Ridgewood, Queens during the Great Depression,
this NYC resident began singing on the radio at age 7 in 1934 as a regular on
NY Mirror columnist Nick Kenny's weekly show. Working
for 10 years on air, Phil, the boy tenor, also
appeared live with Bob Hope, Dinah Shore, Jimmy
Durante and Bing Crosby, and was one of the earliest
TV performers, on NBT (later to be called NBC) "Stars of Tomorrow".
A call from Uncle Sam put a pause to Phil's youthful
career. Aboard a troop ship in the Pacific with
thousands of other men, readied for the invasion of Japan, he
and the others were recalled, only to find that the
bombs had been dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
Phil spent his army years in post war Japan,
organizing entertainment for the American soldiers.
After the big war, Phil studied music theory at the
U. of Miami, picked up playing bass, and went back to
NYC to join the 5 Encores, a Brooklyn based swing
group featuring 5 part vocal harmonies, and recorded
for Ronnex and Rama record companies.
Life on the road was not so wonderful for his new
marriage (to Terry McTigue of Brooklyn) so Phil quit
his full time committment to the music industry,
worked as a salesman in the transportation industry,
and raised a family (daughters Denise Joy and Elise)
in Queens and Long Island. He kept his hand in,
though, playing club dates on the weekends, and
singing for his beloved Jets.
Phil moved to Fort Lauderdale in 1981, following
the death of his wife. He lived there for 20 years,
until Alzheimer's disease was diagnosed. Phil died on
July 11, 2003 at the home of his daughter Elise in El
Paso Texas. He leaves behind his two daughters, son
in law George Terrin, grandchilden Shaylin, Devin and
Jesse and long time companion Bev McElwain of Ft.
Lauderdale, as well as a beloved sister Nonnie Ogden
and many nieces and nephews. He will be buried at
Calverton National Cemetary on July 16th at 3 pm. The
family is asking that memorial contributions be made
to the Alzheimer's Association.

Yesterday was perfect. Gorgeous. 75 degrees. I called my cousin Linda, who is out in Lindenhurst, Long Island. She's got cancer, and is back again, living in the house where she grew up, with her 18 year old son, Patrick, and her father, my Uncle Davie. I asked if I could come out to see her, and she said she wouldn't mind the company. I'm glad she was hanging loose, because the last couple of times I called her, she was booked up for two weeks. Doctors, errands, part time work.. I had a better shot getting an appointment with Dick Cheney. It was an outside chance, I figured, but my original plans had fallen through, and I figured maybe she was hanging loose too.
My first thought for the weekend had been to visit Avis, my ex-husband, and his new best friend, my second cousin Peter, hanging out way upstate in Avis' house, on top of a mountain overlooking the Hudson. I like to go up there sometimes, just to forget about everything for a few days. I thought too, of going to look at a big old abandoned farm, with a pipe dream fantasy of building an artist colony.., but the real estate agent couldn't show it, and Avis and Peter seemed preoccupied, Avis with TV sports, and Peter with moving his stuff out of his ex's place.

Also, I feel weird about leaving my son alone for the weekend.. He used to come up to Avis's with me, in fact, he used to go up to hang with Avis by himself, but now, he is secretly drinking, underage. He wants to be with his party buddies. I don't really like to leave him alone in the house, since he's 17 and one of his crew is a 15 year old who seems to be ducking her mother on the weekends.. I don't need the cops coming to my place, looking for runaways.

Thus, the day trip to visit to my cousin Linda.

Linda is one of a pair of twins, two years older than me. We all lived on Long Island, and spent lots of weekends, summers and holidays together. We went to vacation Bible camp together. We rode bikes, buried canaries and mice, climbed trees, went to the store for ice cream, went to the beach in my mother's car, then going to McDonalds for shakes, hamburgers and french fries with damp bathing suits and sandy feet. We listened to the Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Yellow Polka Dot Bikini, Monster Mash and the Purple People Eater, playing the 45's on Uncle Davie's jukebox in the basement. We put their brother Kevin down the laundry chute, and smoked cigerettes on the roof, hanging out of the twin's bedroom window. My mother had taught me how to hypnotize, and I hypnotized Susan, Linda's sister,when we were 10 and 12.
Then came the teenaged years. Linda went to the woods with a boyfriend and huffed glue. She married a guy who greased his hair back, and collected change from vending machines for a living. I went to her wedding, I think..though I was on another planet by then, smoking cigarettes and pot experimenting with psychedelics and having boyfriends, and living in Queens with my parents..who had moved from the blue collar hatcheries of Suffolk County Long Island.
Anyhow, Linda was in the yard with her dad. She was looking overweight, with thin grey hair growing out. She's now 57. She was looking older. They were setting up patio furniture. Uncle Davie is 83, looking fit and trim, even though he had lost the use of one eye. THey look like a couple. She didn't look as spry as him. He was a lineman for Con Ed. Last visit he spoke of his fear of getting fried up on the poles..When we were kids, we didn't even think that Uncle Davie would fear anything. It seemed strange that he would mention it. Linda agreed to come out for a ride to the beach and lunch.
Linda doesn't drink anymore. I'm so glad. I would see her at family gatherings with a drink in her hand, face red, laughing, sort of out of it...shell shocked after divorce number 2, an impossibility in a very catholic Irish family..an aunt in the Carmelite convent...straw matresses and no visitors except for thru a veil once or twice a year..like Galileo's illegitimate daughter, except the Irish put their legit ones in these places too..or rather, spiritually inclined young ladies used to make that choice for themselves, pre-Vatican Two.
Anyhoo, neither Linda or I were the good girls, Linda having a few affairs, me having many, both having divorces, and both with bouts of alcoholism, mine stopped because of child custody, and her's because of chemotherapy. Neither of us smoke anymore, her's because of cancer, me because of an aneurysm.
We went to 4 restaruants on the beach..none were opened. I 'was concerned for her energy level, and lack of oxygen, which gets depleted thru chemo. Since it's still 3 weeks til Memorial day...they're still fixing up the beach shacks and cafes. It was great tho, people with their kids digging in the sand..no horseflies..like on the North shore...We found the IHOP..the home of comfort food. I needed comfort food. Linda pointed out that I was eligible for the senior menu. ugh..it was good though..After, I offered to do her hair. My mom had been a hairdresser, and did everyone's hair...She said yes. It was cool. She got the color, and I trimmed it up..We took off about 5 years....It was great..Uncle Davie came back from Mass and I told him I felt compelled to cut people's hair...he said maybe it was my mother talking to me from Heaven...

التسميات: Cancer survivors

Drove my son to the ferry this morning, like I do most days when I'm not working. His commute is about 3 hours a day, so I try to shorten the event when I can..my attempt at being a sort of suburban mom..now that I'm the proud owner of an 8 year old car, given to me by my late step mom....En route, da Kid gave me the directive to call Avis immediately (his godfather) to organize money to be sent for this summer's baseball camp. This baseball camp thing has been a covert operation, not to be shared with anyone so "un-baseball" as his mother,(ie, Me). Therefore, I don't know the name of the camp, the location, small details, but he also told me to get the money to them before 5 pm. Obviously my son still thinks of me as a parent with supernatural abilities. It's nice to be a deity...even explains why my son is always mad at me...I'm an imperfect deity...forgetting to do the laundry, cooking bland dinners from time to time...And now I don't have ESP!!! I thought he was going to do the baseball program run by the NYC school system, which he attended last year. which was supposedly good. I also thought he was going to have to go to summer school..as a matter of fact, I believe I know that he'll have to do summer school, but it hasn't gone thru his knuckle head yet.
The aforementioned beloved son has also announced that he doesn't want to pursue a career as iffy as music, that he's done music to make me happy..in fact, he wants to go into that wonderfully stable world of professional baseball.
This is extremely audacious, since he never went to little league, and is playing catchup...he's on his high school baseball team in his mind, only because they're so awful..in a school with a great baseball team, he wouldn't have been able to play.
I support this kid anyway, because I know that audacious dreams do come true..and they're the most fun....
I've labeled the post Pre K to Pre Cal, in order to rant about my days as a substitute, but got sidetracked about "da Kid", who is my inspiration most days...soon I'll be working full time as a special ed teacher, and won't get to work at my son's school, or our neighborhood schools..but I'll be paid like a human, for a change...YAhoo!!!!

CBGB = Country, Bluegrass & Blues = the original premise of the club
dreamed up by Hilly Kristal, the former folk singer guy who opened a
joint on the Bowery. Unbeknownst to him..a new form came to roost
within, punk or new wave or whatever the hell you call it..a sonic
movement as powerful as abstract expressionism or cubism ..but Hilly
was cool enough to go with the flow, and not chase out the wierdos
from Forest Hills and Bayside and Elizabeth and Union who played way
too loud and out of key...one of the best examples I know of a cosmic
joke...Had Hilly insisted on Country Bluegrass and Blues he wouldn't
have lasted 5 months..noone played that stuff or wanted to hear
it...and Hilly curated a cultural explosion..

Was it Bill Maher who said that prayer doesn't work? A confirmed atheist, he tries to prove the lack of a higher consciousness.
He recently referred to a scientific study that said prayer doesn't work. I guess they prayed 100 times, and measured the dismal results. I felt like yelling back at the screen... ( I feel that way often, hopeless, helpless, insignificantly yelling at the tube, when dopey talking heads prate on about dumb shit. ) Bill Maher ain't dumb, he's just locked into that intellectual narcissism that tries to find God thru intelligence. God confounds the wise, Bill. That's part of his beauty. It ain't an intellectual exercise. Logic doesn't measure God's presence..it's like trying to gauge air pressure in your tire with a tape measure..
Seeing God is like reading an XRay. The eye has to be trained to see his/her work. Any medical student can look at the XRAY and nod his/her head gravely over the results..and I see nothing..their eyes are trained to see it. It's the same way with events moved by a higher power. One must be trained to see it...or to put it in comic book terminology..one needs to put on the special XRAY glasses of FAITH...
Dale Carnegie tested prayer, and found it to work 97% of the time. Wrote down his prayers, put them in a drawer, then took them out after a year. Ninety-seven percent of his prayers had been answered. What was the difference between the study Maher referred to and Carnegie's study? Barring the possibility that one (or both) of them were lying, I'd say that the difference was in the BELIEF in the prayer. Or FAITH that prayer would be answered. I think that's in Matthew, that when you come to the Lord in prayer, and believe in the outcome, it's already a done deal.
I'll bet faith was the missing ingredient in the Maher exercise. Confounding the wise.. I hate to use science to explain my understanding of the presence of God, but, I was raised on science, and here's how I came to understand...
Microcosm, macrocosm....there are galaxies and atoms...stars with planets spinning around them and protons with electrons spinning around them...(or were they neutrons? bear with me, it's been years since high school science_..) anyhow, the atom resembles a solar system..showing to me that there are greater and lesser material essences in the universe than humans..to think that we are the highest form of intelligence seems silly..microcosm, macrocosm..what appears in the universe in miniature is a small duplicate of something greater....there are lesser forms of intelligence that we know of..animals and insects...so why should we think that there aren't higher forms? We order around the things around us, create roads, buildings, wars, farms, etc., so who is to say that there isn't a higher intelligence ordering matter around? Sometimes people in AA struggling with an understanding of a higher power use the acronym GOD to mean "Good Orderly Direction"..this acronym only works for English speaking agnostics..but the presence of order in the universe does seem intelligent...as does...evolution...which I consider intelligent design...but that's another topic..i think

I have been skuffling. Borrowing money from friends, to augment my paultry bookings and slender hiring as a substitute teacher. $300 from Gail, $40 from Annie, $200 from Mark...waiting til June when I start a full time program, waiting til May when the money (which was originally coming in March) from Bev will come. I have never been so poor, well not since I was 17 and living on $20 on the North Shore of Oahu, sewing bathing suits and selling them door to door..finally getting a job in a sandal shop..living on cookies and rotting my teeth..or before that in SF, eating sugar cubes with butter at my factory gig at N.Beach Leather, the night shift, the first weeks of employment..days at the phone company..but having to wait 2 weeks for each paycheck..that first 2 weeks..a can of peasoup to last all day..WELLL..I filed my taxes January 28th, and earmarked direct deposit, to make it early..but the IRS site said March 21st was my payday..I prayed though, because there was a grand total of $60 to my name, my son's bank account and piggy bank had been pilfered, the rent was late..when I called my bank, asking for a miracle..and low and behold..the tax return money came in! What day, you ask? My dad's birthday..Feb 24th..fully one month before the IRS date..HE doesn't want us to suffer...My dad is one with the ONE who doesn't want us to suffer. Hallelujah! I'm going grocery shopping!!