Written after an encounter on the street:
Yesterday afternoon I was walking my dog down to Petland Discounts to get some toys, etc. along Broadway.
This heavyset Hispanic woman with drawn-on eyebrows suddenly gets in front of us and asks, "Can I see the front of your dog?" She lifted my dog by his front legs, and started yelling that this was her dog that she lost! She called him Tomi, although he didn't respond, and said he was a Chihuaha (does he LOOK LIKE a chihuaha to you?). She demanded, "You buy him or find him?"
I was so unnerved that I blurted that I'd found him, but didn't say where, but it had been two years ago and he was MY dog. My dog wasn't responding to her at all, although she was bent over and getting in his face and insisting he was! "He knows his name! He knows his name! Tomi!"
Running through my head is this awful scenario, can she actually take my dog, is he her dog somehow, oh my God, how could I have walked him three times a day along Broadway and this never happened??? She said he was her littlest one, that she'd left the door open and he'd run away. I'd heard something to that effect around the time I got him. But we tried speaking Spanish to him and he never reacted to it.
Finally I think she took a look at the expression on my face, patted him and said, "You take good care of my Tomi," and I dragged him away.
I went into the Petland Discounts, shaking all over. I NEVER tie him up outside because people have offered me money for him, or just grabbed at him, or whatever. There are a lot of kooks around here who get very weird around my dog, since he's so little and cute. Part of me was wondering: did she had any right to take my dog?
Now I'm afraid I'll run into her again. I hope for at least not another two years. Also, considering the shape he was in when I got him, she should help pay for the trainer bills! Just kidding--sort of.
Monday, October 30, 2006
To The Dauphin in 2005
Written to the Dauphin about his mid-life crisis:
I was thinking about this recently, and it occurred to me: you should be very proud of yourself, Dauphin. You've managed to do well, even though life has thrown you some very tough curves, the stress of which I can't begin to imagine. You've run your own business for years, you have a wife and children, two homes, and work that sounds like it is quite creative and challenging. You've managed to stay independent, which is a real tightrope, given our economy. Maybe none of us has had the success Dad enjoyed during his life, but then again, we were raised very differently...I think a lot of boomer children suffer from this inability to measure up to their parents' accomplishments. And Dad was brilliant, no doubt about it.
Not to mention how much you helped him in his later years, even though I know they were filled with conflict for both of you at times. The difference in your personalities, goals and management styles were bound to create friction.
One thing I have really admired about you is your capacity to love your children...I never wanted to have children, as you know.
When you first had your older daughter, I used to watch you and think, 'Where did he learn to do that?'. I see photos of myself with Dad from when I was a baby and I can see that same unqualified adoration. I don't know why it stopped for so long a time.
I've always been unable to relate to children until they're at least in their mid-teens. I was actually afraid of Lucretia's children for many years because I knew she and her husband were spewing poison about me to them. That shouldn't have mattered so much to me. That's one reason I've always been drawn strongly to animals. The absolutely unconditional affection they offer.
I remember how hurt you were that Dad didn't take an interest in your work. That was his loss, and I don't really understand it, but he was less than encouraging to all of us (although later he was more encouraging to me, ironically, after I got sick). You probably know better than I. I was very, very pleased when he came to some of my plays later in life, although usually Mom came by herself.
I just wanted to say, that whatever the components of your mid-life crisis, you have made something wonderful and significant of your life for your family and for yourself and I'm sure for many others. And you've often been there for me when I least expected it.
I was thinking about this recently, and it occurred to me: you should be very proud of yourself, Dauphin. You've managed to do well, even though life has thrown you some very tough curves, the stress of which I can't begin to imagine. You've run your own business for years, you have a wife and children, two homes, and work that sounds like it is quite creative and challenging. You've managed to stay independent, which is a real tightrope, given our economy. Maybe none of us has had the success Dad enjoyed during his life, but then again, we were raised very differently...I think a lot of boomer children suffer from this inability to measure up to their parents' accomplishments. And Dad was brilliant, no doubt about it.
Not to mention how much you helped him in his later years, even though I know they were filled with conflict for both of you at times. The difference in your personalities, goals and management styles were bound to create friction.
One thing I have really admired about you is your capacity to love your children...I never wanted to have children, as you know.
When you first had your older daughter, I used to watch you and think, 'Where did he learn to do that?'. I see photos of myself with Dad from when I was a baby and I can see that same unqualified adoration. I don't know why it stopped for so long a time.
I've always been unable to relate to children until they're at least in their mid-teens. I was actually afraid of Lucretia's children for many years because I knew she and her husband were spewing poison about me to them. That shouldn't have mattered so much to me. That's one reason I've always been drawn strongly to animals. The absolutely unconditional affection they offer.
I remember how hurt you were that Dad didn't take an interest in your work. That was his loss, and I don't really understand it, but he was less than encouraging to all of us (although later he was more encouraging to me, ironically, after I got sick). You probably know better than I. I was very, very pleased when he came to some of my plays later in life, although usually Mom came by herself.
I just wanted to say, that whatever the components of your mid-life crisis, you have made something wonderful and significant of your life for your family and for yourself and I'm sure for many others. And you've often been there for me when I least expected it.
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Watching my father die...November 17 2004
In the surgeon's outer office:
It hurts so much. Dad is like a large animal, panting and bent over. A dying lion. Annette, the assistant, told me about her mother, who died of gastric cancer at 58.
At their apartment:
Mom and Dad had a screaming fight. I stayed in the kitchen and ate reheated Chinese food. Dr. BXXX broke our phone appoinment--DAMN! Will call Dr. SXXX when I get home.
Gave Dad some Listerine Pocket Packs because he loved them so much in the hosptial. Not drinking, but smoking and sleeping.
I asked him if it was like being in someone else's body, and he said, "More and more."
The Dauphin fled to Fire Island.
It hurts so much. Dad is like a large animal, panting and bent over. A dying lion. Annette, the assistant, told me about her mother, who died of gastric cancer at 58.
At their apartment:
Mom and Dad had a screaming fight. I stayed in the kitchen and ate reheated Chinese food. Dr. BXXX broke our phone appoinment--DAMN! Will call Dr. SXXX when I get home.
Gave Dad some Listerine Pocket Packs because he loved them so much in the hosptial. Not drinking, but smoking and sleeping.
I asked him if it was like being in someone else's body, and he said, "More and more."
The Dauphin fled to Fire Island.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Losing My Mind, Again - Part One, October 2005
This is a long story, so sit back.
It was in the later summer of 2005 that I found the promissory note for the money I had loaned to Dad back in 1985 purely by accident while going through some files. That September, Lucretia emailed me that I had to write a "demand letter.” We would go through the records, and if I hadn't been paid back, I would be paid back and sign a release against any future claims. It all seemed straightforward at the time. I did as I was asked. I knew the circumstances of the loan (Dad took over The Dauphin's paying me for his apartment), and the note promised that I would be paid $11K with 10% interest as of July 1, 1985. My lawyer (yes, I have an estate lawyer) said a reasonable amount of time to wait would be two weeks to be paid back. Lucretia wrote that was impossible, since she'd have to come to the city to go through Dad's records.
Things got very weird, very fast. Lucretia asked to see my financial records. I said no. They were a shambles and I didn’t want anyone else to see how much I’d fucked up over the years. This was at the same time the Dauphin was freaking over Lucretia’s executor's fee, so there was a fair amount of email fighting going on. Lucretia and I met in a coffee shop, and I showed her the last payment Dad had made (prior to that note) from The Dauphin's trust. I had gotten my trust fund about a year later, in 1986, when I turned 30, and at that time Dad's company was going down the tubes. It was around that time he told me he'd lost millions of dollars and I shouldn't expect an inheritance.
At the coffee shop, Lucretia thrust some forms from the investment firm at me, and said she wanted them faxed to her, even though it concerned my account (there were a few months unaccounted for, although I had over twenty years of reports). When I said no, I would have them sent to me, she was unpleasantly surprised. By now, if the loan were paid with interest, it would be in the neighborhood of $33K.
She mentioned compound interest, and said that if I tried to get that, she would "haul my ass through court.” (She strenuously denies having said anything to that effect, but it was a real shocker to hear that coming from her.) I said I didn't even know what that WAS, and after she explained it, I said I didn't want it anyway. Later, the investment firm couldn't find the account records because they're so old.
The situation dragged on, and frankly, I was coming apart at the seams. My inbox was filled with angry emails from everybody about the executor stuff, etc.. With the other monetary arguments about the estate, the amount of money I was requesting seemed like chump change. Then in late October, I spoke to Lucretia's estate lawyer. He almost accused me of blackmail, and what a strange coincidence it was that I had found the promissory note right before the twenty year statue of limitations expired. Then he said that confidentially, Lucretia was interested in a settlement for the principle of the loan.
The next day, I was leaving for an audition for “All My Children,” as a trucker’s girlfriend, and I was asked to come in costume. So I dressed in a denim mini, low-cut blouse, and black leather jacket (I got the part).
As I was getting ready to leave, the phone rang, and the estate lawyer gleefully informed me that the statute of limitations had run out on the promissory note, so I wouldn’t get a penny. It’s six years, not twenty. He said that paying me back was “at Lucretia’s discretion.”
When I went to Mom’s after the audition for dinner, which we had arranged prior, the first thing she said was, “It’s so depressing how easy it is for you to look slutty.”
Lucretia had talked to her about the loan. Mom threw a shit-fit, screaming things like, “Why do you care about the fucking money? It’s been twenty years! Are you going to be poor for the rest of your life?” When I was leaving, I mentioned I’d be leaving town for Thanksgiving, because it was the one-year anniversary of Dad’s death and I didn’t feel I could cope. “You just decide to get sick,” Mom snapped.
By the time I got home (DH was traveling somewhere), I remembered I’d picked up a bottle of Xanax the day before. I sat on the edge of my bed, crying, thinking about how in the past, Lucretia would have been the first person I called, but I couldn’t call her, I couldn’t call my other siblings, Dad was gone, and Mom…well, that night it felt like I lost my entire family, and suicide seemed like a reasonable option. I had the good sense to call my psychiatrist and my clinic. The next day my therapist helped me check into the Mt. Sinai loony bin, where I spent my birthday. (Sound of violins.) I was strongly urged by the doctors there to “divorce my family,” or at least severely limit my contact.
And that's how I got to spend my birthday in green hospital pajamas and foam slippers.
It was in the later summer of 2005 that I found the promissory note for the money I had loaned to Dad back in 1985 purely by accident while going through some files. That September, Lucretia emailed me that I had to write a "demand letter.” We would go through the records, and if I hadn't been paid back, I would be paid back and sign a release against any future claims. It all seemed straightforward at the time. I did as I was asked. I knew the circumstances of the loan (Dad took over The Dauphin's paying me for his apartment), and the note promised that I would be paid $11K with 10% interest as of July 1, 1985. My lawyer (yes, I have an estate lawyer) said a reasonable amount of time to wait would be two weeks to be paid back. Lucretia wrote that was impossible, since she'd have to come to the city to go through Dad's records.
Things got very weird, very fast. Lucretia asked to see my financial records. I said no. They were a shambles and I didn’t want anyone else to see how much I’d fucked up over the years. This was at the same time the Dauphin was freaking over Lucretia’s executor's fee, so there was a fair amount of email fighting going on. Lucretia and I met in a coffee shop, and I showed her the last payment Dad had made (prior to that note) from The Dauphin's trust. I had gotten my trust fund about a year later, in 1986, when I turned 30, and at that time Dad's company was going down the tubes. It was around that time he told me he'd lost millions of dollars and I shouldn't expect an inheritance.
At the coffee shop, Lucretia thrust some forms from the investment firm at me, and said she wanted them faxed to her, even though it concerned my account (there were a few months unaccounted for, although I had over twenty years of reports). When I said no, I would have them sent to me, she was unpleasantly surprised. By now, if the loan were paid with interest, it would be in the neighborhood of $33K.
She mentioned compound interest, and said that if I tried to get that, she would "haul my ass through court.” (She strenuously denies having said anything to that effect, but it was a real shocker to hear that coming from her.) I said I didn't even know what that WAS, and after she explained it, I said I didn't want it anyway. Later, the investment firm couldn't find the account records because they're so old.
The situation dragged on, and frankly, I was coming apart at the seams. My inbox was filled with angry emails from everybody about the executor stuff, etc.. With the other monetary arguments about the estate, the amount of money I was requesting seemed like chump change. Then in late October, I spoke to Lucretia's estate lawyer. He almost accused me of blackmail, and what a strange coincidence it was that I had found the promissory note right before the twenty year statue of limitations expired. Then he said that confidentially, Lucretia was interested in a settlement for the principle of the loan.
The next day, I was leaving for an audition for “All My Children,” as a trucker’s girlfriend, and I was asked to come in costume. So I dressed in a denim mini, low-cut blouse, and black leather jacket (I got the part).
As I was getting ready to leave, the phone rang, and the estate lawyer gleefully informed me that the statute of limitations had run out on the promissory note, so I wouldn’t get a penny. It’s six years, not twenty. He said that paying me back was “at Lucretia’s discretion.”
When I went to Mom’s after the audition for dinner, which we had arranged prior, the first thing she said was, “It’s so depressing how easy it is for you to look slutty.”
Lucretia had talked to her about the loan. Mom threw a shit-fit, screaming things like, “Why do you care about the fucking money? It’s been twenty years! Are you going to be poor for the rest of your life?” When I was leaving, I mentioned I’d be leaving town for Thanksgiving, because it was the one-year anniversary of Dad’s death and I didn’t feel I could cope. “You just decide to get sick,” Mom snapped.
By the time I got home (DH was traveling somewhere), I remembered I’d picked up a bottle of Xanax the day before. I sat on the edge of my bed, crying, thinking about how in the past, Lucretia would have been the first person I called, but I couldn’t call her, I couldn’t call my other siblings, Dad was gone, and Mom…well, that night it felt like I lost my entire family, and suicide seemed like a reasonable option. I had the good sense to call my psychiatrist and my clinic. The next day my therapist helped me check into the Mt. Sinai loony bin, where I spent my birthday. (Sound of violins.) I was strongly urged by the doctors there to “divorce my family,” or at least severely limit my contact.
And that's how I got to spend my birthday in green hospital pajamas and foam slippers.
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