Thursday, April 7, 2011
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Re creating a life
I have just finished responding to the daughter, Sara of my father's best friend, Chris Button, who remembers that I used to wear long high heeled boots. She remembers so much about the house my other part of Dad's family lived in, when they returned from France (I was living in Los Angeles by then) and reminded me of the white carpet. Dad used to call me the sugar plum elephant, and for some reason I often was clumsy around him, so it will not surprise you to learn that I knocked over a glass of red wine on said white carpet.
Anyway, Sara's message started a train of thought, which meanders through many aspects, so bear with me.
Yesterday, my father would have been 84 and he died 20 years ago this coming May. I still miss him and it's a little difficult for me to realise that I have been trying to re-create a life since he died, and my world fell apart. He would be horrified if he knew how his son, David has used me (I turned down a job running a publishing company to help him), taken my money, destroyed my furniture (much of which were antiques) and helped him (he had no idea how to deal with lawyers, and his first one nearly landed him in contempt of court, so with the help of a friend, we found one of the best family law firms in Los Angeles) keep his two daughters out of the hands of a sociopath mother, but now refuses to talk to me, even though I have offered him peace messages twice.
With my mother's death when I was 5, my Dad was a wounded man, yet he somehow managed to find the will power to carry on. I don't believe he ever got over missing her. She was his first love. I wrote the epitaph for his grave stone "He was a remarkable man".
Deborah Fehin, was an Irish Roman Catholic and Dad, was a British Church of England, and neither of their families wanted them to marry. Dad had to wait until he was 21 before their wedding. And I arrived almost 9 moths to the day. Thank goodness I was not early, because eyebrows would have been raised! My brother David, came along 15 months later, and I used to spend quite a lot of time with my Aunt Dorothy, Dad's eldest half sister, her husband, Uncle Syd and my gorgeous cousin, Stewart. Stewart must have been about 7 when he had to share his bedroom with a small child, and we were always close. He was absolute gorgeous looking. A cross between Fabian of the US TV show 77 Sunset Strip (?), Elvis and British equivalent, Cliff Richard, however, honestly much better looking than any of the three. He inevitably had a smile on his face. Sadly, he died a few years ago, and his mother died just after her 70th birthday last year. She was beautiful too and they both had amazing twinkling blue eyes. Dorothy would chatter away and I have to say that I was sometimes mischievous and would say something outrageous, such as "Prince Charles has just land his helicopter in the garden", however, she would not pause.
A lovely, kind woman, and her husband, Uncle Syd was kind too (he only just missed living until he was 100), although had a habit of saying the wrong thing.
I have lost so many people who loved me. My Aunt Tricia, who died in 1999, and was the closest I ever had to having a mother, as well being one of my best friends.
Anyway, Sara's message started a train of thought, which meanders through many aspects, so bear with me.
Yesterday, my father would have been 84 and he died 20 years ago this coming May. I still miss him and it's a little difficult for me to realise that I have been trying to re-create a life since he died, and my world fell apart. He would be horrified if he knew how his son, David has used me (I turned down a job running a publishing company to help him), taken my money, destroyed my furniture (much of which were antiques) and helped him (he had no idea how to deal with lawyers, and his first one nearly landed him in contempt of court, so with the help of a friend, we found one of the best family law firms in Los Angeles) keep his two daughters out of the hands of a sociopath mother, but now refuses to talk to me, even though I have offered him peace messages twice.
With my mother's death when I was 5, my Dad was a wounded man, yet he somehow managed to find the will power to carry on. I don't believe he ever got over missing her. She was his first love. I wrote the epitaph for his grave stone "He was a remarkable man".
Deborah Fehin, was an Irish Roman Catholic and Dad, was a British Church of England, and neither of their families wanted them to marry. Dad had to wait until he was 21 before their wedding. And I arrived almost 9 moths to the day. Thank goodness I was not early, because eyebrows would have been raised! My brother David, came along 15 months later, and I used to spend quite a lot of time with my Aunt Dorothy, Dad's eldest half sister, her husband, Uncle Syd and my gorgeous cousin, Stewart. Stewart must have been about 7 when he had to share his bedroom with a small child, and we were always close. He was absolute gorgeous looking. A cross between Fabian of the US TV show 77 Sunset Strip (?), Elvis and British equivalent, Cliff Richard, however, honestly much better looking than any of the three. He inevitably had a smile on his face. Sadly, he died a few years ago, and his mother died just after her 70th birthday last year. She was beautiful too and they both had amazing twinkling blue eyes. Dorothy would chatter away and I have to say that I was sometimes mischievous and would say something outrageous, such as "Prince Charles has just land his helicopter in the garden", however, she would not pause.
A lovely, kind woman, and her husband, Uncle Syd was kind too (he only just missed living until he was 100), although had a habit of saying the wrong thing.
I have lost so many people who loved me. My Aunt Tricia, who died in 1999, and was the closest I ever had to having a mother, as well being one of my best friends.
These days, life is tough. I have gone from having a very successful, although not well paid career in the music business. I established The Chrysalis Music Group (and as one of only 3 Senior Vice Presidents with responbilities for all aspects of the record company as well, was paid only $35,000 a year, plus expense account, and I rarely managed to get back all that I had paid out) as a leading independent music publisher, with hits in pop, r&b, country (one year we received two ASCAP awards and Steve Cropper came up to me afterwards to congratulate me and let me know how unusual that was for a pop publisher). However, for some reason I always did well in Nashville.
Now I live in a Federally funded building on SSI.
I resigned from Chrysalis late in 1984, when Terry Ellis was bought out by Chris Wright, however, was asked to stay on. The explanation given was that they couldn't afford to lose a senior executive and a very high profile one as well, at that time. What they did not explain to me, was that if I had stayed on I would have received shares as they subsequently took the company public. And they needed (as they had many times before) to show that they treated women equally, and I was their only senior woman executive.
So I was cheated by a company I had been loyal to for nearly 10 years. I had turned down Joe Smith's offer to start the publishing companies for Nonesuch, Ayslum/Electra out of loyalty to Chris Wright and Terry Ellis and many other job offers. But they did not return that loyalty. Owen Epstein, US lawyer for U2 and Pat Benatar and who once described me as the most assertive yet rigorously honest negotiators he had dealings with (he had asked me to take a paying job at his firm, and he would put me through law school) offered to sue Chrysalis for sexual harrassment and for inequal treatment, but I was too heart sick to take that on.
I am heartened that I have so many friends who care about me, Franca Cavaricci, being one of them, who even though she is struggling is helping me and whenever we speak on the phone makes me laugh.
I have only recently returned from a trip to the UK, where I had a wonderful time (wrote a separate blog about it), however, learned on the Monday by email after I arrived there on Friday and was alone (my family had gone skiing for a week) that one of my closest friends, Tom Bolan (he was my Copyright Manager at Chrysalis in 1983 and remained a friend since then) had died. If I had been here, I would not have done as one of his so called friends did just call 911, however, would have, as I have many, many times before taken him straight to emergency. And maybe he would have survived if he had got to emergency sooner. The prior week I had taken him to his HIV doctor, and he was elated to learn that his viral load was so low, that he almost had no HIV, so he was healthy. The following week, he was in a panic and I went over to help him as I have many time befores with court papers he was filing for a woman, he detested, Cynthia Blatt - often while I was with him, he would not take her calls, because she constantly badgered him.
Three of Tom's other so called friends, Stuart Katsch (I appeared for him in court, when he should have, but had stayed on in France claiming he was sick and I won the case for him), Cynthia Blatt and lawyer, Rick Soares have taken action, which I can only describe as truly appalling. I was included in his will, which Rick Soares emailed me that I wasn't. A lie that hurt me. I was left the residue of Tom's estate. These three people made sure that that residue was simply trash and I know that was not what Tom would have wanted for me. I shall miss him as he was one of the few people, who with my mental disabilities I saw, and who I helped often as he had lost the cartilege under his left foot and could no longer drive.
I am heartened by the many friends who know me well, and who care about me. Franca Cavaricci being one of them. We make each other laugh about our woes. Cindi Hughes is another.
I paint watercolors now http://annmunday.finearts.com/ and my work is rapidly improving. Several of my paintings have been bought. And I have been offered the opportunity when I have sufficient pieces to have a showing in a local gift basket shop, who have wine tasting evenings.
I am also going into the voice over business http://voice123.com.annmunday , as I have an English rose voice (as described by a V/O agent) and a sensual one (listen to Hard Days Night) to help support me as I progress my art career. I have volunteered and recorded books for The Reading for the Blind and Dyslexic, including describing graphs, footnotes and diagrams.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
The 12 Steps - a design for living
I am not ashamed to accept that I am one of the one in 10 who has an addiction to alcohol. Have to say I had a huge amount of fun, outdrank a lot of men (useful in the music business - they were really annoyed when I'd get the down to the black ball as well) and fortunately, lived to tell the tale and to stop drinking. For me it gave me a design for living that I certainly did't have growing up. That was a design for survival perhaps, its the best I can say about that, except when visiting Ireland and my love Irish grandmother, who just personified love. I went to loys meetings. Was really fortunate to have the help of MU and the Grammy Foundation get me into an amazing rehab, where I learned more about myself than, I could have imagined. Rigorous honesty is one of the cornerstones of the program. Anonymity as to who you see in meetings and what you've heard them say, I absolutely uphold. Anonymity is not a legal right. But what do you do when a man, who professes to have over 19 years of sobriety and is proud of that and that he goes to meetings regularly, lies to you when he sells you a vehicle. Yes, Jim Simpson of Jim Simpson Llc who sells you his fathers pick up truck and lies to you, and does not disclose the full extenet of problems with the vehicle. I am confused as to how you can be rigorously honest, and not be?? An ex sponsor, Angel Schwartz allowed me to stay with her; for a fortunately very short while; when I was homeless. I did a huge amount of preparation and helped her considerably in painting a mural on Hollywood Boulevard at the Horse Carriage Museum. And had to endure Rush Limbaugh every day for ages. I did not paint the brilliant images she did, howwever, I did paint the fence, the foliage and flowers at the bottom quater of the painting. My name was credited "Assisted by Ann Munday". Excited to show a long term friend and brilliant songwriter of some of my artistic endeavour we drove north on Hollywood and stopped. Fortunately the gate was open, so we could go straight up and stand in front of it. My "Assisted by" has been painted out. Why would someone do that? And I have not forgotten the man who at a meeting, described a gang rape as a party prank. So I think I still stick to my 12 step program and my design for living, and continue to be as rigorously honestly honest as I can be.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
What is a friend? And my trip to the UK.
I returned last Sunday from a little over 3 weeks visit to my brother Darren, my lovely sister in law/great friend, Becky and their gorgeous and growing sons, Ben and Luke.
I looked after both of them in 2005, the last time I visited the UK, and boy did I get tired trying to keep the two of them amused and not fighting with each other. The simple trick was to make them laugh and doing something all of the time (treasure hunts, hide and seek, you name it, I did it and don't ask me how many times I watched Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (!) or Star Wars either (!), and me on the trampoline did that very easily, since I simply could not master it.
Back to my trip. 3 days after I arrived, I found myself up at 7 am in the morning (oh why can they not at least prescribe rohypnol - yes, the date rate drug for travelling different time zones, which I used to use when I travelled so much, because it would give me good sleep and I would wake up totally acclimatised to my new time zone and prevent me from falling asleep while in a meeting or worse still, listening to a songwriter's new song, he'd waited ages for my visit to play to me!) to let out the ducks and chickens.
Becky and family's home is a wonderful 200 + year old cottage, which has been put together from a series of smaller ones and is long and huge, however, welcoming and homely and elegant. She has an uncanny ability to do that no matter what sized house they have lived in over the years. And I have to look back at the time when I did have a home, and without being arrogant (I hope) say I could do the same.
Anyway, first to the ducks and chickens. So I get up at 7 am on the first Monday morning (they'd left for their French skiing trip much earlier than that) with the aid of an alarm clock, and guess what, it's raining! On with the wellington boots. My nephew Ben's fitted me, fortunately. And out to the enclosure at the bottom of the garden, which is now very muddy. No problem feed and water them. Now to the hour of 6pm I have been given to get them all back in their coop. Well, you would have had to laugh at me running around and around the coop chasing the ducks in particular, to go back into that coop. Oh, and I had to collect eggs. Did startle a few chickens sitting on some. One poor duck, Mother Goose, only has one eye, which I had not noticed and in the end I had to pick her up and put her in. No problem for me. As a child I spent the happiest weeks (every school vacation until my father remarried and evil step mother 1 stopped me seeing any of my mother's family) of a mostly sad childhood in Liscarroll, a tiny village in County Cork on a small farm, so had no fear of either ducks or chickens. Although I do remember my lovely Irish grandmother (a source of unconditional love) chasing me around once pulling on the sinews of a chicken's claw.
Anyway, one evening about 4 days into the chasing around, I was a little late and lo and behold, the ducks and chickens repair to their various coops (the small black fluff ball chickens had their own) all by themselves!!!! Approaching dusk and the scent of foxes wafting in the air send them to safety by themselves. So at least, I am now only having to make sure they have water at night and not feel an idiot chasing them around and around, and to the 7 am opening up and feeding and watering. There was one aggressive rooster, which if he did not retreat when I walked into him, simply had water poured on his head, which did the trick. I did have to remember the two rabbits as well, however, they never came out.
Sadly, on the Monday I learned via email, that one of my best friends, Tom (my copyright manager and right hand at Chrysalis Music Group USA, where I was Senior VP) in 1983 (I apparently continued the interview that started in the office, in my hotel room and he remembers having to pass me bras and things (he also came shopping with me whenever I did that, and shopping is something I hate and he laughed at being in Norma Kamalis at the attendant coming up to him and asking him if he was looking for something in particular - he was well over 6'!) had died of meningitis and I was truly devastated. Apparently, I went to one of the neighbours a walk away at the entrance to Swifts Farm, but I don't remember doing so.
Patricia and Chris were a very lovely couple I met while Becky and family were still there, and Patricia invited me to to Crufts with her. I had accepted her invitation with excitement, however, my ptsd and depression were not helping me much due to Tom's death, and in the end, although I would love to have attended, I simply couldn't.
The family also has a new Labrador puppy, Holly. Now anyone who knows Labradors, knows that as puppies they are a bundle of mischief and prone to biting anything they can get hold of. Normally, she is left in her room during the day and my brother comes home at lunch time to feed her, but I simply couldn't do that to her, so she was a constant companion and not at all any help when I was trying to paint. Something I had planned to do a lot of! And that was a little bit of a shame as it was all so very beautiful, deep in the Oxfordshire countryside and with a peacock from next door pig farm, who'd pop over.
However, Holly and I had many games of soccer, and she liked to keep two balls in play, one very deflated one and one not so. Got me a bit fitter, wich I had hoped to do and give up smoking as well. I cannot blame Tom's death for my not doing so, but I am afraid I did not live up to my own expectations, although I did cut back considerably.
I consider it a privilege anyway, that Holly trusted me right from the beginning and was very happy being with me.
The first Sunday, I had lunch with two FRIENDS, David Hitchcock and Teri Anderson. Teri I had seen on my 60th, when we went to see the Zombies together, and caught Spencer Davis )I can still remember him sitting in my office at Chrysalis; and my head going, "that's Spencer Davis sitting there" several times; and another UK band from my 20s, which I can't remember, however, with new blood gave a great show. I have not seen David since the mid 90s and it was good to see him and I am happy that he is happily married, and has two great daughters, he loves and who love him. Now he is a great friend as is Teri, and I pray that her chemo will get rid of the cancer found quite by accident and a very rare one. However, they found it early and still extremely small and she's not worrying about it.
We had intended to go to a pub in the village Becky, Darren and family used to live in, in the tiny village of Launton, one I have a photo of to paint at some point, but you had to book and it was completely full. The pub we chose was not that great, however, when you're with friends, it really doesn't matter.
My uncle and my second stepmother showed up on the Tuesday, which I hadn't quite planned on, however, it was good to see them.
Sleep, beautiful sleep. I was not at all afraid of being there alone. Have never been afraid of being anywhere alone (well there was one period, but that's another story) and I just had great sleep through the night for the entire 3 weeks and 2 days I spent there.
Monday, Feb 25th arrived and so did Becky, Darren, Becky's Dad, Roger and Ben and Luke back from their skiing.
So now I am off to watch Luke play soccer at his school (he's only 7 and already training with Reading FC one night a week) and I thought my butt would freeze off! And very oddly, I turned during the tea after the game and said hello to a young woman and her daughter. Somehow, it came up that we are both of Irish heritage and she also has one pointed ear and one round ear as I have. I call mine the leprechaun side of me. I've never met anyone else throughout the many years I have now lived who've also had one pointed and one round ears.
Have to say that there was a lot of soccer watching going on when everyone came home, which reminded me very much of my childhood. Also my visits to my Dad from the US, when I wondered why on earth I'd gone to visit him, if he was going to sit and watch either soccer or a war film!
Becky and I both love gardening and come Friday, we're off to the garden centre together, and buy loads of plants including a Mimosa, which is currently sitting in the dining room as you cannot plant them until all danger of frost is past. We kept forgetting how tall it was and of course instead of making it our last purchase, we grabbed it as soon as we saw it, and then had to watch for its height the rest of the buying trip!
Saturday arrives, and Darren has kindly arranged a family gathering, and really, really wonderful aside from seeing my lovely remaining Aunt Jacqueline and her husband, Uncle Doug, my cousin Karen and her husband, Stephen (always good for an interesting political conversation, although that wasn't the time for one), my love Irish cousin, Liam and his beautiful wife, Margaret. This was great, however, the huge bonus was that I got to see my father's best friend, Chris Button and his two lovely daughters, Sasha and Sarah. Such a wonderful man, and a good FRIEND to me. Sadly, his lovely wife Gaye was not well, however, we have been back in contact by email since then. So I am back in touch with a lovely friend and his family. And Becky's Dad, Roger (who hates such gatherings) is so good to me, that despite his not wanting to at all, he shows up too. Another FRIEND.
So why have I called this "what is a friend". Well, Becky and I were talking one evening and I have been having trouble with someone I have known almost since I move to the US way back in 1978. And I was talking to her about him and the fact that he recommended the awful lawyer, who did such a poor job in representing me in a car accident on Sept 9, 2008 at 1:25pm on Beverly Boulevard at the lights at Curson, when Craig Ferguson's wife, Megan Cunningham Ferguson crashes into me while I am waiting at the red light. I am turned so I am looking to the right where the traffic light is, and since then not a day goes by that I am not in pain with my neck and right shoulder. Megan (a lovely woman) walks towards me with cell phone in hand, apologising over and over again, and tells me that her brakes failed. It did not feel that her brakes had failed, rather more, that she had driven full speed at me. It was a terrific impact, however, I see no reason for her to lie about her brakes.
There was a funny anecdote. We were occupying the middle lane, with two lanes to our right and one very rude driver going past told us to get out of the road, as we're blocking traffic. Which considering that's exactly what he was doing by stopping to tell us to get out of the road, is ironic to say the least. I told him what I thought of him and that he should just move on and get away from us.
Being British, I was not immediately on the phone to a lawyer, and I expect through shock, when the Farmer's representative is immediately on the phone to me early the very next morning, I tell her I am fine (that's also a British habit), and I ask how Megan is? Very clever of Farmers Insurance. [As an aside, they have insured my brother for 28 years and me for 12, and that I am still with them is because their agent Stephen Pohl is a decent human being. I wish all the people suing Farmers Insurance, including the class action suit by The Mormons, much good fortune in winning against them.]
But, as time went by, the pain came. The entire back of my volvo station wagon is caved in, I have seen my boyfriend thrown forward and his hands slamming on the glove compartment. My beautiful german shepherd, Anita is in the back and to this day, I cannot forgive myself for not taking her to the vets. I have to wonder if that accident accelerated her degenerative spinal disease, and I had to have her euthanised last year, which is one of the saddest momenst of my life. She was my FRIEND. We knew each other. I could lay my head on her body and receive comfort.
But my pain does come and I have whiplash damage, sciatic nerve damage and a body wracked with pain. So I ask the aforementioned friend for a recommendation and he gives me one.
I go to see her. I am still in shock, and she seems pleasant, a bit gaudily dressed for my taste and very opiniated, and who I would normally refer to as a rather silly woman.
2008 passes, I've seen the unpleasant orthodpedic surgeon she has instructed me to. He recommends a course of chiroprator's treatment. Fortunately, I have an amazing chiroprator Dr Robert Pohomac of MaxWellness, and he does manage to do some work on my lumbar region.
Not to go into the whole long drawn out case again, this woman lawyer has told me one thing after another, recommened one defence after another, but changed her mind and basically has done nothing. She tells me in October of 2009 that she is going to file the complaint by the end of the year. She does not. So I get forced into mediation (Craig Ferguson does not want his wife to appear in court and she is pregnant, so I feel for her), which finally occurs in October 2010, or face a trial sometime in 2011. I am warned by my attorney that I am not likely to win, because Farmers have blamed my injuries on my age. I am not sure how you get whiplash, brachial plexus damage with age, nor pain running down the right shoulder.
So back to my title "What is a friend". I speak with the lawyer, my "friend" who has recommended the woman, and he agrees that she has filed late. He offers to speak with the senior partner of the firm representing Farmers and Megan before the mediation, but is lectured by her. And I get lectured too for not trusting her. Well, I am sorry, by that stage, I do not.
Sadly, however, when I email my lawyer "friend" that I am considering reporting my lawyer to the bar, he is on her side and tells me to just move on. You try "moving on" when you are in pain every day. I have the determination to learn the Alexander Technique, I sleep with my neck over a pillow, with my neck going in the opposite direction to that which is was thrown in and that helps a bit. I use a neck brace for work at the computer. I walk.
So now I am back to my conversation with Becky about what a friend is, and she hits the nail on the head and answers the query that has been running through my mind since my "friend's" response, "move on". A friend is someone you can depend on and trust, and I realise that sadly the friend I used to rely on and trust, no longer deserves my trust. He's lost it.
Ending on a more positive note, I made a new friend in the UK, my sister in law, Becky's trainer Peter Michael Dedes. He is a physical trainer and I immediately knew I could trust him and depend on him.
Franca Cavarricci, despite her own many and tremendous difficulties due to the disgusting behaviour of her ex partner and business partner, who I used to respect, but do not any longer, is another. I have tremendous admiration for her managing to get through a truly horrific time and that she does this every day. She adoes her two daughters, Alanna and Sidney, who are a wonderful testamont to her as a mother. I met her when she was a successful business manager having formed her own business management company, which was stolen away from her.
And I end with the end of my UK trip on March 13, which was a sad parting for me, aside from the horrible hour I have to get up!
We all have dinner at an Indian restaurant on the Friday and Luke has me in hysterics, taking photographs of four of us, as he keeps moving forward each time he goes to press the button!
On Satuday, I go and watch Ben play soccer and watch him run like a gazelle (both he and my niece, Vanessa have that same ability) and I learn that he's a wizard at corner kicks. He is able to curve the ball around the goal post. That morning it was not cold, and I did not freeze, and met some nice other parents. I make the mistake of telling one of the fathers that I used to know George Best well, and he immediately asked me if I had slept with him. I had to laugh, and Becky and I compared notes on how so little has changed for women in the nearly 40 years since I joined the music business and was forever being spoken about that I had slept with everyone to get to the top. Nearly made the News of The World once, which I thought was very funny, but then didn't, as I thought my Dad won't like that! Becky still experiences much of the same I did throughout my career.
Darren gets me to the airport in good time. I am pre-checked in (American Airlines, my favourite), so we have a little more time together. I have to have a starbucks, and then suddenly find that I am late for my plane and it's closing. Just as well I had played soccer with Holly, otherwise I would not have made it! I leave my wallet in the airport. Fortuantely LAX is much more efficient than LAX Lost and Found, who although I have emailed them and told them exactly where I left my cell phone, have not responded.
I looked after both of them in 2005, the last time I visited the UK, and boy did I get tired trying to keep the two of them amused and not fighting with each other. The simple trick was to make them laugh and doing something all of the time (treasure hunts, hide and seek, you name it, I did it and don't ask me how many times I watched Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (!) or Star Wars either (!), and me on the trampoline did that very easily, since I simply could not master it.
Back to my trip. 3 days after I arrived, I found myself up at 7 am in the morning (oh why can they not at least prescribe rohypnol - yes, the date rate drug for travelling different time zones, which I used to use when I travelled so much, because it would give me good sleep and I would wake up totally acclimatised to my new time zone and prevent me from falling asleep while in a meeting or worse still, listening to a songwriter's new song, he'd waited ages for my visit to play to me!) to let out the ducks and chickens.
Becky and family's home is a wonderful 200 + year old cottage, which has been put together from a series of smaller ones and is long and huge, however, welcoming and homely and elegant. She has an uncanny ability to do that no matter what sized house they have lived in over the years. And I have to look back at the time when I did have a home, and without being arrogant (I hope) say I could do the same.
Anyway, first to the ducks and chickens. So I get up at 7 am on the first Monday morning (they'd left for their French skiing trip much earlier than that) with the aid of an alarm clock, and guess what, it's raining! On with the wellington boots. My nephew Ben's fitted me, fortunately. And out to the enclosure at the bottom of the garden, which is now very muddy. No problem feed and water them. Now to the hour of 6pm I have been given to get them all back in their coop. Well, you would have had to laugh at me running around and around the coop chasing the ducks in particular, to go back into that coop. Oh, and I had to collect eggs. Did startle a few chickens sitting on some. One poor duck, Mother Goose, only has one eye, which I had not noticed and in the end I had to pick her up and put her in. No problem for me. As a child I spent the happiest weeks (every school vacation until my father remarried and evil step mother 1 stopped me seeing any of my mother's family) of a mostly sad childhood in Liscarroll, a tiny village in County Cork on a small farm, so had no fear of either ducks or chickens. Although I do remember my lovely Irish grandmother (a source of unconditional love) chasing me around once pulling on the sinews of a chicken's claw.
Anyway, one evening about 4 days into the chasing around, I was a little late and lo and behold, the ducks and chickens repair to their various coops (the small black fluff ball chickens had their own) all by themselves!!!! Approaching dusk and the scent of foxes wafting in the air send them to safety by themselves. So at least, I am now only having to make sure they have water at night and not feel an idiot chasing them around and around, and to the 7 am opening up and feeding and watering. There was one aggressive rooster, which if he did not retreat when I walked into him, simply had water poured on his head, which did the trick. I did have to remember the two rabbits as well, however, they never came out.
Sadly, on the Monday I learned via email, that one of my best friends, Tom (my copyright manager and right hand at Chrysalis Music Group USA, where I was Senior VP) in 1983 (I apparently continued the interview that started in the office, in my hotel room and he remembers having to pass me bras and things (he also came shopping with me whenever I did that, and shopping is something I hate and he laughed at being in Norma Kamalis at the attendant coming up to him and asking him if he was looking for something in particular - he was well over 6'!) had died of meningitis and I was truly devastated. Apparently, I went to one of the neighbours a walk away at the entrance to Swifts Farm, but I don't remember doing so.
Patricia and Chris were a very lovely couple I met while Becky and family were still there, and Patricia invited me to to Crufts with her. I had accepted her invitation with excitement, however, my ptsd and depression were not helping me much due to Tom's death, and in the end, although I would love to have attended, I simply couldn't.
The family also has a new Labrador puppy, Holly. Now anyone who knows Labradors, knows that as puppies they are a bundle of mischief and prone to biting anything they can get hold of. Normally, she is left in her room during the day and my brother comes home at lunch time to feed her, but I simply couldn't do that to her, so she was a constant companion and not at all any help when I was trying to paint. Something I had planned to do a lot of! And that was a little bit of a shame as it was all so very beautiful, deep in the Oxfordshire countryside and with a peacock from next door pig farm, who'd pop over.
However, Holly and I had many games of soccer, and she liked to keep two balls in play, one very deflated one and one not so. Got me a bit fitter, wich I had hoped to do and give up smoking as well. I cannot blame Tom's death for my not doing so, but I am afraid I did not live up to my own expectations, although I did cut back considerably.
I consider it a privilege anyway, that Holly trusted me right from the beginning and was very happy being with me.
The first Sunday, I had lunch with two FRIENDS, David Hitchcock and Teri Anderson. Teri I had seen on my 60th, when we went to see the Zombies together, and caught Spencer Davis )I can still remember him sitting in my office at Chrysalis; and my head going, "that's Spencer Davis sitting there" several times; and another UK band from my 20s, which I can't remember, however, with new blood gave a great show. I have not seen David since the mid 90s and it was good to see him and I am happy that he is happily married, and has two great daughters, he loves and who love him. Now he is a great friend as is Teri, and I pray that her chemo will get rid of the cancer found quite by accident and a very rare one. However, they found it early and still extremely small and she's not worrying about it.
We had intended to go to a pub in the village Becky, Darren and family used to live in, in the tiny village of Launton, one I have a photo of to paint at some point, but you had to book and it was completely full. The pub we chose was not that great, however, when you're with friends, it really doesn't matter.
My uncle and my second stepmother showed up on the Tuesday, which I hadn't quite planned on, however, it was good to see them.
Sleep, beautiful sleep. I was not at all afraid of being there alone. Have never been afraid of being anywhere alone (well there was one period, but that's another story) and I just had great sleep through the night for the entire 3 weeks and 2 days I spent there.
Monday, Feb 25th arrived and so did Becky, Darren, Becky's Dad, Roger and Ben and Luke back from their skiing.
So now I am off to watch Luke play soccer at his school (he's only 7 and already training with Reading FC one night a week) and I thought my butt would freeze off! And very oddly, I turned during the tea after the game and said hello to a young woman and her daughter. Somehow, it came up that we are both of Irish heritage and she also has one pointed ear and one round ear as I have. I call mine the leprechaun side of me. I've never met anyone else throughout the many years I have now lived who've also had one pointed and one round ears.
Have to say that there was a lot of soccer watching going on when everyone came home, which reminded me very much of my childhood. Also my visits to my Dad from the US, when I wondered why on earth I'd gone to visit him, if he was going to sit and watch either soccer or a war film!
Becky and I both love gardening and come Friday, we're off to the garden centre together, and buy loads of plants including a Mimosa, which is currently sitting in the dining room as you cannot plant them until all danger of frost is past. We kept forgetting how tall it was and of course instead of making it our last purchase, we grabbed it as soon as we saw it, and then had to watch for its height the rest of the buying trip!
Saturday arrives, and Darren has kindly arranged a family gathering, and really, really wonderful aside from seeing my lovely remaining Aunt Jacqueline and her husband, Uncle Doug, my cousin Karen and her husband, Stephen (always good for an interesting political conversation, although that wasn't the time for one), my love Irish cousin, Liam and his beautiful wife, Margaret. This was great, however, the huge bonus was that I got to see my father's best friend, Chris Button and his two lovely daughters, Sasha and Sarah. Such a wonderful man, and a good FRIEND to me. Sadly, his lovely wife Gaye was not well, however, we have been back in contact by email since then. So I am back in touch with a lovely friend and his family. And Becky's Dad, Roger (who hates such gatherings) is so good to me, that despite his not wanting to at all, he shows up too. Another FRIEND.
So why have I called this "what is a friend". Well, Becky and I were talking one evening and I have been having trouble with someone I have known almost since I move to the US way back in 1978. And I was talking to her about him and the fact that he recommended the awful lawyer, who did such a poor job in representing me in a car accident on Sept 9, 2008 at 1:25pm on Beverly Boulevard at the lights at Curson, when Craig Ferguson's wife, Megan Cunningham Ferguson crashes into me while I am waiting at the red light. I am turned so I am looking to the right where the traffic light is, and since then not a day goes by that I am not in pain with my neck and right shoulder. Megan (a lovely woman) walks towards me with cell phone in hand, apologising over and over again, and tells me that her brakes failed. It did not feel that her brakes had failed, rather more, that she had driven full speed at me. It was a terrific impact, however, I see no reason for her to lie about her brakes.
There was a funny anecdote. We were occupying the middle lane, with two lanes to our right and one very rude driver going past told us to get out of the road, as we're blocking traffic. Which considering that's exactly what he was doing by stopping to tell us to get out of the road, is ironic to say the least. I told him what I thought of him and that he should just move on and get away from us.
Being British, I was not immediately on the phone to a lawyer, and I expect through shock, when the Farmer's representative is immediately on the phone to me early the very next morning, I tell her I am fine (that's also a British habit), and I ask how Megan is? Very clever of Farmers Insurance. [As an aside, they have insured my brother for 28 years and me for 12, and that I am still with them is because their agent Stephen Pohl is a decent human being. I wish all the people suing Farmers Insurance, including the class action suit by The Mormons, much good fortune in winning against them.]
But, as time went by, the pain came. The entire back of my volvo station wagon is caved in, I have seen my boyfriend thrown forward and his hands slamming on the glove compartment. My beautiful german shepherd, Anita is in the back and to this day, I cannot forgive myself for not taking her to the vets. I have to wonder if that accident accelerated her degenerative spinal disease, and I had to have her euthanised last year, which is one of the saddest momenst of my life. She was my FRIEND. We knew each other. I could lay my head on her body and receive comfort.
But my pain does come and I have whiplash damage, sciatic nerve damage and a body wracked with pain. So I ask the aforementioned friend for a recommendation and he gives me one.
I go to see her. I am still in shock, and she seems pleasant, a bit gaudily dressed for my taste and very opiniated, and who I would normally refer to as a rather silly woman.
2008 passes, I've seen the unpleasant orthodpedic surgeon she has instructed me to. He recommends a course of chiroprator's treatment. Fortunately, I have an amazing chiroprator Dr Robert Pohomac of MaxWellness, and he does manage to do some work on my lumbar region.
Not to go into the whole long drawn out case again, this woman lawyer has told me one thing after another, recommened one defence after another, but changed her mind and basically has done nothing. She tells me in October of 2009 that she is going to file the complaint by the end of the year. She does not. So I get forced into mediation (Craig Ferguson does not want his wife to appear in court and she is pregnant, so I feel for her), which finally occurs in October 2010, or face a trial sometime in 2011. I am warned by my attorney that I am not likely to win, because Farmers have blamed my injuries on my age. I am not sure how you get whiplash, brachial plexus damage with age, nor pain running down the right shoulder.
So back to my title "What is a friend". I speak with the lawyer, my "friend" who has recommended the woman, and he agrees that she has filed late. He offers to speak with the senior partner of the firm representing Farmers and Megan before the mediation, but is lectured by her. And I get lectured too for not trusting her. Well, I am sorry, by that stage, I do not.
Sadly, however, when I email my lawyer "friend" that I am considering reporting my lawyer to the bar, he is on her side and tells me to just move on. You try "moving on" when you are in pain every day. I have the determination to learn the Alexander Technique, I sleep with my neck over a pillow, with my neck going in the opposite direction to that which is was thrown in and that helps a bit. I use a neck brace for work at the computer. I walk.
So now I am back to my conversation with Becky about what a friend is, and she hits the nail on the head and answers the query that has been running through my mind since my "friend's" response, "move on". A friend is someone you can depend on and trust, and I realise that sadly the friend I used to rely on and trust, no longer deserves my trust. He's lost it.
Ending on a more positive note, I made a new friend in the UK, my sister in law, Becky's trainer Peter Michael Dedes. He is a physical trainer and I immediately knew I could trust him and depend on him.
Franca Cavarricci, despite her own many and tremendous difficulties due to the disgusting behaviour of her ex partner and business partner, who I used to respect, but do not any longer, is another. I have tremendous admiration for her managing to get through a truly horrific time and that she does this every day. She adoes her two daughters, Alanna and Sidney, who are a wonderful testamont to her as a mother. I met her when she was a successful business manager having formed her own business management company, which was stolen away from her.
And I end with the end of my UK trip on March 13, which was a sad parting for me, aside from the horrible hour I have to get up!
We all have dinner at an Indian restaurant on the Friday and Luke has me in hysterics, taking photographs of four of us, as he keeps moving forward each time he goes to press the button!
On Satuday, I go and watch Ben play soccer and watch him run like a gazelle (both he and my niece, Vanessa have that same ability) and I learn that he's a wizard at corner kicks. He is able to curve the ball around the goal post. That morning it was not cold, and I did not freeze, and met some nice other parents. I make the mistake of telling one of the fathers that I used to know George Best well, and he immediately asked me if I had slept with him. I had to laugh, and Becky and I compared notes on how so little has changed for women in the nearly 40 years since I joined the music business and was forever being spoken about that I had slept with everyone to get to the top. Nearly made the News of The World once, which I thought was very funny, but then didn't, as I thought my Dad won't like that! Becky still experiences much of the same I did throughout my career.
Darren gets me to the airport in good time. I am pre-checked in (American Airlines, my favourite), so we have a little more time together. I have to have a starbucks, and then suddenly find that I am late for my plane and it's closing. Just as well I had played soccer with Holly, otherwise I would not have made it! I leave my wallet in the airport. Fortuantely LAX is much more efficient than LAX Lost and Found, who although I have emailed them and told them exactly where I left my cell phone, have not responded.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Life is sometimes just sad and relationships don't work out
and there's no rhyme or reason.
Relationships just don't work out - neither person at fault. Each brought a mountain of abuse; emotional and physical; and either they could heal each others hurts and pains or they could simply make them worse.
Sadly they love each other, but each have triggers that provoke anger.. One person's anger is vented phsycially, the others passive aggressively. Neither loving actions. And each causing both the recipient and the agressor deep pain, regret and anger at themselves.
Such deep sadness and despair that something so loving to begin with, has been torn to pieces and is in tatters, with neither person know what to do or where to go next.
Escape is perhaps the only alternative.
And the memories of the glorious beginning, will be glory again and laughter and giggles will triumph.
Relationships just don't work out - neither person at fault. Each brought a mountain of abuse; emotional and physical; and either they could heal each others hurts and pains or they could simply make them worse.
Sadly they love each other, but each have triggers that provoke anger.. One person's anger is vented phsycially, the others passive aggressively. Neither loving actions. And each causing both the recipient and the agressor deep pain, regret and anger at themselves.
Such deep sadness and despair that something so loving to begin with, has been torn to pieces and is in tatters, with neither person know what to do or where to go next.
Escape is perhaps the only alternative.
And the memories of the glorious beginning, will be glory again and laughter and giggles will triumph.
Monday, February 14, 2011
PCs being a nuisance and Franca's blog on losing friends
I have changed something on my laptop, which of course, not knowing precisely what I am doing stops me every time I try to read my lovely friend Franca's latest blog and respond to it.
So I shall do it this way.
Franca writes of friends' deaths. And as is usual, it is an excellent read.
I am a pack rat and have most of my old address books, and when searching for a number or address, find friends who have died. In some way, I do not mind, because they bring back memory of that friend.
My father died 20 years ago this May and yet I see him flying above LA in the Tiger Moth a friend owned and took him up for a ride in, when Dad was over for my brother, David's wedding.
I am also a fan of Kahill Gibrain, although I have only read The Prophet, which I love.
Quoting from "Death" he wrote:
For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
And what is to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.
This being Valentine's Day, my very favourite on marriage or a partnership is, (again from The Prophet)
"But let there be spaces in your togetherness, And let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another, but make not a bond of love. Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls. Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup. Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf. Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each of you be alone, Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music. Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping. For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts. And stand together, yet not too near together. For the pillars of the temple stand apart, And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow."
So I shall do it this way.
Franca writes of friends' deaths. And as is usual, it is an excellent read.
I am a pack rat and have most of my old address books, and when searching for a number or address, find friends who have died. In some way, I do not mind, because they bring back memory of that friend.
My father died 20 years ago this May and yet I see him flying above LA in the Tiger Moth a friend owned and took him up for a ride in, when Dad was over for my brother, David's wedding.
I am also a fan of Kahill Gibrain, although I have only read The Prophet, which I love.
Quoting from "Death" he wrote:
For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
And what is to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.
This being Valentine's Day, my very favourite on marriage or a partnership is, (again from The Prophet)
"But let there be spaces in your togetherness, And let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another, but make not a bond of love. Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls. Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup. Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf. Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each of you be alone, Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music. Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping. For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts. And stand together, yet not too near together. For the pillars of the temple stand apart, And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow."
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Trying to get ready to visit the UK for the first time in 6 years
and thinking of all the things I have to do still!!
And so many of them are priorities - so how does that happen - procrastination and depression.
I have to help my lovely friend, Franca, who is helping me with back taxes, which have got into a state because of my mental challenges, by giving her info to help her help me! And with ptsd, my memory is not as good as it once famously was. Although perhaps the IRS will have a heart.
Get what remains of my belongings (not much after helping my brother through a dreadful custody battle - lost 90% of my furniture, including many antiques) out of storage and to a friend's garage in Palm Springs, who's kindly agreed that I can put them there, which will be a far more pleasant place than Price Self Storage.
Found rat feces in there one time and went to the desk to report that. One of the women on their staff at their possibly misnamed Help desk, actually suggested that I had brought them in! Yes, of course, I keep a whole pack of rats to just take wherever I want to!!! Fortunately, her supervisor was more sympathetic, but the feces are still in there!
What racket storage places are these days with so many people needing them because they've become homeless.
Although on the subject of rats, I once managed an act whose lead singer had a pet rat. The band was going to record at a studio, where they'd be staying for the period of recording and he asked me to phone the studio and ask their permission. Now, I had learned by that time that said rat was clean, lovable and clever, but didn't think it wise to ask a studio if we could bring one, so I told him to just take it!
Anyway, I shall be on my way in less than 2 weeks now to a beautiful old house in the Oxfordshire countryside, miles away from anything.
After 3 days of my arrival, my brother and his family will be going skiing (I must do this again sometime, although I do spend a lot of time on my butt!) and I shall be alone with a labrador puppy, ducks, chickens, rabbits and whatever other wild life live on their large piece of land.
This does include a swimming pool, however, a chilly swim is not something I am contemplating!
However, am looking forward to a week alone with time to paint, uninterrupted, except for a few friends, who'll drive to visit me there.
Intend to start on landscapes, particularly from my collection of photos taken in Tuscany. I have rather concentrated on my Whimsical Garden series, however, they are very time consuming and require minute details (just delivered a second one to doting grandparents, whose first grandchild, Lorelei now has a second one, which includes insects and rabbits and a Empire State building in the distance, which my friend tells me is a little large, however, if it had been any smaller, I am not sure anyone would recognise what it is!) and am looking forward to using a much more free style form.
I'll have to watch the weight of my baggage as my painting equipment is pretty heavy combined with books I want to take. So few clothes (my family will lend me some of theirs) as 90lbs limit doesn't allow you much.
And I know this well, having gone with my lovely niece, Vanessa to take her Dad to the airport (on his way to the UK) and found myself in front of other passengers frantically taking clothes (who'd think a man would pack so much!) and putting them on the scale to get that bag down to the required weight, while my niece and her Dad went off to buy another piece of luggage to put the clothing I had removed, in to.
A little concerned about being in an airport surrounded by people and will have my panic attack pills at hand.
And all this thinking of travelling and packing reminds me of the time when I could afford such luxuries of buying a large tapestry bag, which the salesperson had to help me carry to my car. Now that should have been a sign, you'd think! Intelligent woman running a company buys bag she can't carry without anything in it, and when she does pack it (before the days of limited weight) can't even move it off the bed! Only ever used it that one trip.
But the morning has now gone by 15 minutes. I haven't taken the walk I promised myself last night I would do first thing.
So adieu!
And so many of them are priorities - so how does that happen - procrastination and depression.
I have to help my lovely friend, Franca, who is helping me with back taxes, which have got into a state because of my mental challenges, by giving her info to help her help me! And with ptsd, my memory is not as good as it once famously was. Although perhaps the IRS will have a heart.
Get what remains of my belongings (not much after helping my brother through a dreadful custody battle - lost 90% of my furniture, including many antiques) out of storage and to a friend's garage in Palm Springs, who's kindly agreed that I can put them there, which will be a far more pleasant place than Price Self Storage.
Found rat feces in there one time and went to the desk to report that. One of the women on their staff at their possibly misnamed Help desk, actually suggested that I had brought them in! Yes, of course, I keep a whole pack of rats to just take wherever I want to!!! Fortunately, her supervisor was more sympathetic, but the feces are still in there!
What racket storage places are these days with so many people needing them because they've become homeless.
Although on the subject of rats, I once managed an act whose lead singer had a pet rat. The band was going to record at a studio, where they'd be staying for the period of recording and he asked me to phone the studio and ask their permission. Now, I had learned by that time that said rat was clean, lovable and clever, but didn't think it wise to ask a studio if we could bring one, so I told him to just take it!
Anyway, I shall be on my way in less than 2 weeks now to a beautiful old house in the Oxfordshire countryside, miles away from anything.
After 3 days of my arrival, my brother and his family will be going skiing (I must do this again sometime, although I do spend a lot of time on my butt!) and I shall be alone with a labrador puppy, ducks, chickens, rabbits and whatever other wild life live on their large piece of land.
This does include a swimming pool, however, a chilly swim is not something I am contemplating!
However, am looking forward to a week alone with time to paint, uninterrupted, except for a few friends, who'll drive to visit me there.
Intend to start on landscapes, particularly from my collection of photos taken in Tuscany. I have rather concentrated on my Whimsical Garden series, however, they are very time consuming and require minute details (just delivered a second one to doting grandparents, whose first grandchild, Lorelei now has a second one, which includes insects and rabbits and a Empire State building in the distance, which my friend tells me is a little large, however, if it had been any smaller, I am not sure anyone would recognise what it is!) and am looking forward to using a much more free style form.
I'll have to watch the weight of my baggage as my painting equipment is pretty heavy combined with books I want to take. So few clothes (my family will lend me some of theirs) as 90lbs limit doesn't allow you much.
And I know this well, having gone with my lovely niece, Vanessa to take her Dad to the airport (on his way to the UK) and found myself in front of other passengers frantically taking clothes (who'd think a man would pack so much!) and putting them on the scale to get that bag down to the required weight, while my niece and her Dad went off to buy another piece of luggage to put the clothing I had removed, in to.
A little concerned about being in an airport surrounded by people and will have my panic attack pills at hand.
And all this thinking of travelling and packing reminds me of the time when I could afford such luxuries of buying a large tapestry bag, which the salesperson had to help me carry to my car. Now that should have been a sign, you'd think! Intelligent woman running a company buys bag she can't carry without anything in it, and when she does pack it (before the days of limited weight) can't even move it off the bed! Only ever used it that one trip.
But the morning has now gone by 15 minutes. I haven't taken the walk I promised myself last night I would do first thing.
So adieu!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)