I am writing about a personal issue that you have many times spoken of very publicly. The most recent being when you were on the "Wait Wait Don't Tell Me" radio show on NPR. You again spoke of Elizabeth Taylor and how she destroyed your parent's (Debbie Reynolds and Eddie Fisher) marriage. That happened in the 50's and you were but a toddler. And this show was in 2009. It is quite obvious you were extremely affected by this.
Carrie, you need to know that Liz Taylor did not break up your happy home. You have lived your whole life not knowing the truth, that Debbie surely has known for a long time. Eddie never loved your mom. There was no happy family for Liz to destroy. Here is how I know:
Way back in the mid-50's when I was a teenager (I think about 17) living in South Florida, I walked over to visit two of my friends, Cecelia and Margaret. They were teen-aged sisters (Cece being older than me by about two years)who spent every summer in Florida but lived their lives in the Bronx. When they came to the door, CeCe was crying and Margie looked very upset. They told me they had just received a letter from Eddie. I asked, Eddie who? They said it was from their best friend from the Bronx, Eddie Fisher who now lived in Hollywood.
After they let me in, they handed me the 4 page letter. The writing was very small and I think it was printed in pencil. They said don't bother reading the whole thing, just the bottom of the last page.
This is what it said: "I am going to marry Debbie Reynolds. I don't want to marry her. I don't love her. I don't even like her. But my agent says it will be good for my career. love Eddie". Being a teenager who believed in true love and marriage, it nearly made me cry too. I realized that CeCe was in love with Eddie and probably expected to marry him someday. CeCe was in fact as cute as Debbie, petite, red-haired, a bathing suit model, and sweet as could be. Pretty much the description of Debbie except I think Debbie was a blond at the time. But CeCe was not famous.
Let me tell you, it made my heart heavy, especially when the movie magazines announced the wedding. I hate to say this, but it made me sad when you were born because I knew you would have a very difficult time once the truth came out. And I knew it would. Eddie soon found another way to boost his career, or so he thought, by marrying Liz Taylor. Poor Liz had just lost the love of her life in a plane crash so I doubt if she was thinking very clearly when she married that jerk who is your father.
So there you have it, Carrie, believe it or not. That is up to you but I hope the truth will bring you some peace as you have had a pretty rough time of it dealing with what Eddie has wrought with his self-centered superficial self. I know you are taking care of him now and I say, good for you. But please know the truth about him.
OK, I take most of that last paragraph back. Now that I have put into type what I have been thinking for a long time, I had an epiphany. It was not Eddie's fault at all. He was, in fact, a wet-behind-the-ears kid from the Bronx who was taken under the wing of his agent. I now realize the bad marriages and bad career choices rest solely on the shoulders of his agent. That man was surely the cause of Eddie's ruination.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Saturday, November 14, 2009
My Run-in With the Law
It was a hot summer night. Granddaughter and I decided to drive up to Sonic for ice cream sundaes. We live in a small town so everything is less than 5 minutes away. The time was close to midnight and there were no other cars there, though we could see someone inside. We parked in one space and noticed a sign that said, Not in Service. Hmmm.... maybe they are closed and in the process of cleaning up. We pulled out and noticed that all the spaces said not in service.
We pulled around to the side of the kitchen and motioned for someone to step outside. A young woman came out and told us the Not in Service sign was for credit cards and yes, they were open. We parked and placed our order.
We decided to go on back home after we got our order so when the waitress brought our sundaes, I paid and tipped her and put the car in reverse. Glancing out the side-view mirror, I saw we were blocked in by a police car. I put my foot on the brake and waited. I think he could have been there for some time.
He then pulled up along side of us and the carhop went over to his window. I looked over at him and he gave me such a big smile that my mouth automatically curled up into a smile too. He had just warmed my heart in spite of the fact that I was very upset over the fact that these people had called the police because Granddaughter and I could not tell whether or not they were open for business.
I have a police scanner at home, like nearly everyone else in town, so I know my license number had been called in to dispatch and my name had been pulled up and announced over the air along with the alleged violation. Crazy woman at Sonic asking if they are open?? Luckily no priors or those would have been announced too. So damn disturbing when I had not really done anything at all. It still pisses me off some.
I have not been back to Sonic since, and don't plan to go back ever, but whenever I try to be mad about it, the officer's smiling face flashes in front of my eyes and my mouth just curls up into a smile and this is one year and a few months later. He really put a kind face on an otherwise humiliating experience.
We pulled around to the side of the kitchen and motioned for someone to step outside. A young woman came out and told us the Not in Service sign was for credit cards and yes, they were open. We parked and placed our order.
We decided to go on back home after we got our order so when the waitress brought our sundaes, I paid and tipped her and put the car in reverse. Glancing out the side-view mirror, I saw we were blocked in by a police car. I put my foot on the brake and waited. I think he could have been there for some time.
He then pulled up along side of us and the carhop went over to his window. I looked over at him and he gave me such a big smile that my mouth automatically curled up into a smile too. He had just warmed my heart in spite of the fact that I was very upset over the fact that these people had called the police because Granddaughter and I could not tell whether or not they were open for business.
I have a police scanner at home, like nearly everyone else in town, so I know my license number had been called in to dispatch and my name had been pulled up and announced over the air along with the alleged violation. Crazy woman at Sonic asking if they are open?? Luckily no priors or those would have been announced too. So damn disturbing when I had not really done anything at all. It still pisses me off some.
I have not been back to Sonic since, and don't plan to go back ever, but whenever I try to be mad about it, the officer's smiling face flashes in front of my eyes and my mouth just curls up into a smile and this is one year and a few months later. He really put a kind face on an otherwise humiliating experience.
Friday, November 13, 2009
The Title of my Blog
I am a Scorpio and the title of my blog, sunshine and shadows, refers to my sign. I have visited a few therapists and psychologists over these long years of my life and the most interesting one explained a lot to me about my psychological make-up. He told me as a Scorpio, I could be either a soaring eagle or a lizard who hides in the shadows, venturing now and then into the sunlight, only to scurry back again to the shadows. In my life, I am sure I was an eagle at times, especially necessary in my professional life and my divorce, but could not sustain it. I am indeed a lizard who spends way too much time in the shadows. I am wanting to again venture into the sunlight for more than a short visit.
note: one thing I need to work on in order to stay in the sunlight is....not to keep going back and reworking the previous post. Proves lack of confidence. Enough already. By the way, I am also a Type A personality. Good is never enough for me. I am a perfectionist who is far from perfect. And to top it all off, I am a pessimist, I like to say realist but let's be honest, who is happiest when I am wrong, if you know what I mean. But all too often I am right, which I never really want to be. How messed up is that?
note: one thing I need to work on in order to stay in the sunlight is....not to keep going back and reworking the previous post. Proves lack of confidence. Enough already. By the way, I am also a Type A personality. Good is never enough for me. I am a perfectionist who is far from perfect. And to top it all off, I am a pessimist, I like to say realist but let's be honest, who is happiest when I am wrong, if you know what I mean. But all too often I am right, which I never really want to be. How messed up is that?
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
My Most Interesting Flight
I was on the plane in Miami, waiting to fly to meet my lover in Baltimore. As I waited I glanced through a new Cosmopolitan. I had a window seat beside two empty seats. I was looking forward to seeing G in 3 hours.
Along came two tall nice-looking suits. I am not exaggerating, they were both good-looking and dressed very well. In my previous flights I had sat beside fat men, old grannies, whatever but never anyone like this. I glanced up, then down to my open magazine.
The older man sat next to me and his younger red-haired companion sat on the aisle. I would guess the older man (I will call him B) was in his mid-forties and the younger man (I will call him J) in his early thirties. The older man said as he sat down, "Finally, I get to sit beside a beautiful woman". I tried to ignore him but it did not last long. He began asking me questions about the magazine I was reading, a very sexy issue of Cosmo, and it would have been rude not to converse at this point. Though the articles suddenly embarrassed me, I tried to act cool about it. He said he was the founder of a very large and well-known realty company (I will not say the name). The guy beside him worked for him.
He asked if he could buy me a drink and though I had never drunk alcohol on a plane, it sounded like fun so I said yes. They ordered drinks for the three of us and we continued to talk. He was married and lived just outside of DC in an upscale community. His wife had the same name as I. We talked, drank, joked for about an hour. Then came an announcement from the pilot. We would be returning to Miami because a woman on board had become ill.
After returning to Miami with a brief layover, we took off again for Baltimore. That delayed arrival by about two hours so I worried that G may no longer be there to meet me. By now J was simply reaching into the bottom of the drink cart as it went by and retrieving tiny whiskey bottles without paying for them. They kept refilling my glass as well as their own. After awhile casual conversation ended and serious bantering and begging ensued. B was adamant that I was going with him when we landed. I was laughingly saying that was not going to happen. I had told him I was meeting a boyfriend and he kept saying if he was not there, I was going with him.
He also kept saying that if G was there to meet me, that he wanted me to meet him at the Hasta in Coral Gables on December 15 at 8 PM. (This was at the end of October). He kept saying that and I kept saying, no I will not be there. He repeated it as if he did not want me to forget the time and date and said he would wait all night for me if need be. I would not agree. But we continued to banter back and forth and drink and laugh. It was the most fun I had had in a long time.
Finally the fasten seat belts sign came on and we prepared to land. More urgent begging ensued which I laughed off. Just as we landed, J gathered up the many many empties and tossed them into my large handbag. I just chuckled and zipped it up. I was a bit drunk by now. As we stood to exit, B and J grabbed my carry-on and garment bag. They were pretty sure we were leaving the airport together. I did not know at that point that we were not.
As we stood up and squeezed into the aisle, me in front flanked closely by the two men, a young female voice from behind them announced: "My name is Julie and I have been listening to you guys this entire flight. I will meet you at the Hasta in December." I glanced around along with the guys and we saw a very attractive smiling young woman. I fully expected these men to turn from me and take her up on her offer and I would not blame them. But they turned away and totally ignored her.
We continued off the plane and there right outside the door of the plane (long before all the security we have now) stood G in tan slacks, navy blue sport jacket, dress shirt open at the collar, tall, smiling, handsome, oh my Lord. I ran into his waiting arms and held on. Then B and J walked up, handed him my bags, shook his hand and walked away. No, I did not meet B at the Hasta in December. I did have a moment wondering about it on that evening but I did not go.
Note: As I found out later, G gladly shook hands and thanked the two suits outside the plane because he thought they were airline officials escorting me off. He assumed that I had been the woman who had become ill on the plane. I, of course, told him the truth and he was not all that happy, especially when I emptied my handbag of all the empty whiskey bottles after we arrived at his apartment. Remember, I was still a bit drunk. All was well though and we had a most wonderful weekend.
Along came two tall nice-looking suits. I am not exaggerating, they were both good-looking and dressed very well. In my previous flights I had sat beside fat men, old grannies, whatever but never anyone like this. I glanced up, then down to my open magazine.
The older man sat next to me and his younger red-haired companion sat on the aisle. I would guess the older man (I will call him B) was in his mid-forties and the younger man (I will call him J) in his early thirties. The older man said as he sat down, "Finally, I get to sit beside a beautiful woman". I tried to ignore him but it did not last long. He began asking me questions about the magazine I was reading, a very sexy issue of Cosmo, and it would have been rude not to converse at this point. Though the articles suddenly embarrassed me, I tried to act cool about it. He said he was the founder of a very large and well-known realty company (I will not say the name). The guy beside him worked for him.
He asked if he could buy me a drink and though I had never drunk alcohol on a plane, it sounded like fun so I said yes. They ordered drinks for the three of us and we continued to talk. He was married and lived just outside of DC in an upscale community. His wife had the same name as I. We talked, drank, joked for about an hour. Then came an announcement from the pilot. We would be returning to Miami because a woman on board had become ill.
After returning to Miami with a brief layover, we took off again for Baltimore. That delayed arrival by about two hours so I worried that G may no longer be there to meet me. By now J was simply reaching into the bottom of the drink cart as it went by and retrieving tiny whiskey bottles without paying for them. They kept refilling my glass as well as their own. After awhile casual conversation ended and serious bantering and begging ensued. B was adamant that I was going with him when we landed. I was laughingly saying that was not going to happen. I had told him I was meeting a boyfriend and he kept saying if he was not there, I was going with him.
He also kept saying that if G was there to meet me, that he wanted me to meet him at the Hasta in Coral Gables on December 15 at 8 PM. (This was at the end of October). He kept saying that and I kept saying, no I will not be there. He repeated it as if he did not want me to forget the time and date and said he would wait all night for me if need be. I would not agree. But we continued to banter back and forth and drink and laugh. It was the most fun I had had in a long time.
Finally the fasten seat belts sign came on and we prepared to land. More urgent begging ensued which I laughed off. Just as we landed, J gathered up the many many empties and tossed them into my large handbag. I just chuckled and zipped it up. I was a bit drunk by now. As we stood to exit, B and J grabbed my carry-on and garment bag. They were pretty sure we were leaving the airport together. I did not know at that point that we were not.
As we stood up and squeezed into the aisle, me in front flanked closely by the two men, a young female voice from behind them announced: "My name is Julie and I have been listening to you guys this entire flight. I will meet you at the Hasta in December." I glanced around along with the guys and we saw a very attractive smiling young woman. I fully expected these men to turn from me and take her up on her offer and I would not blame them. But they turned away and totally ignored her.
We continued off the plane and there right outside the door of the plane (long before all the security we have now) stood G in tan slacks, navy blue sport jacket, dress shirt open at the collar, tall, smiling, handsome, oh my Lord. I ran into his waiting arms and held on. Then B and J walked up, handed him my bags, shook his hand and walked away. No, I did not meet B at the Hasta in December. I did have a moment wondering about it on that evening but I did not go.
Note: As I found out later, G gladly shook hands and thanked the two suits outside the plane because he thought they were airline officials escorting me off. He assumed that I had been the woman who had become ill on the plane. I, of course, told him the truth and he was not all that happy, especially when I emptied my handbag of all the empty whiskey bottles after we arrived at his apartment. Remember, I was still a bit drunk. All was well though and we had a most wonderful weekend.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
A Glance at the Past
A couple days ago I took my lovely granddaughter to the airport for her flight to see her mom in Florida. After she had gathered her stuff and started through security, I headed for the exit.
My heart dropped when I spotted a young man in tan trousers, navy blue sport jacket, white dress shirt open at the neck, also heading for security. He had a remarkable resemblance (face and build and manner of dressing) to an old (young) love of mine of many years ago. I suddenly recalled flying to Baltimore for a romantic birthday weekend with my lover who was a bit younger than I. I was 37 and he was 32. I remembered exiting the plane and throwing myself into the waiting arms of this tall handsome man whom I had not seen in three months. I thought I loved him so very much. He was single (divorced) and I had been divorced for over a year. The flight there is a story in itself, so I will not go into that right now.
The point of this is to say that seeing that young man striding through the airport on Thursday, painfully reminded me that I am old now, 73, and the days of flying around rendezvousing with a sexy handsome lover, celebrating our reunions by feasting on lobster in fancy restaurants in Baltimore, Birmingham, Sanibel Island, nights of desperate passion (not knowing when we would see each other again), and so much more are long over. I walked out into the sun-filled parking lot with a freshly broken heart, realizing once more that I am old and I will never have that experience again. Thinking my body has failed me, because my mind cannot yet grasp the levity of aging.
My heart dropped when I spotted a young man in tan trousers, navy blue sport jacket, white dress shirt open at the neck, also heading for security. He had a remarkable resemblance (face and build and manner of dressing) to an old (young) love of mine of many years ago. I suddenly recalled flying to Baltimore for a romantic birthday weekend with my lover who was a bit younger than I. I was 37 and he was 32. I remembered exiting the plane and throwing myself into the waiting arms of this tall handsome man whom I had not seen in three months. I thought I loved him so very much. He was single (divorced) and I had been divorced for over a year. The flight there is a story in itself, so I will not go into that right now.
The point of this is to say that seeing that young man striding through the airport on Thursday, painfully reminded me that I am old now, 73, and the days of flying around rendezvousing with a sexy handsome lover, celebrating our reunions by feasting on lobster in fancy restaurants in Baltimore, Birmingham, Sanibel Island, nights of desperate passion (not knowing when we would see each other again), and so much more are long over. I walked out into the sun-filled parking lot with a freshly broken heart, realizing once more that I am old and I will never have that experience again. Thinking my body has failed me, because my mind cannot yet grasp the levity of aging.
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