Ceder-Deder

There is a man from my past that I must write about.  I cannot remember his real name but I remember the nicknames that I made up for him.

He was an older man.  I believe he was 32 when I met him. I was 13.

My brother worked at the concession stand at Boulevard Drive-in Theater in North Miami Beach Florida. We had recently moved there from Michigan. Since my brother worked there, I went to the movies every night and got in free. One night there was a raffle drawing for a large turkey. Thanksgiving was just days away.

I did not purchase any tickets but I was sitting beside a kid I knew who had a handful. He pulled one out and gave it to me. The next number called matched the ticket in my hand. I walked over to the food counter where a new guy was standing. I told him I had just won a turkey but I could not take it because my brother worked there. He winked and said you will get that turkey.

I said there was no way for me to get it home anyway because I could barely lift it (I was a skinny girl at that time), and I had to walk a mile down US 1 to get home. He said he would take me and the turkey home on his Harley. That seemed like a perfect solution.  My family would surely be happy to have a free turkey for Thanksgiving. We were not in the best financial situation at that time.

So I hung around the counter the rest of the evening talking to this guy who, by the way, was very cute, clean cut, and really nice. He said he had just moved down from Washington DC. I told him I was going to call him DC. He said that was OK.

At about midnight, he took me and my frozen turkey home on his huge Harley and dropped me off in front. Then away he went. I did not even think to invite him to the turkey dinner.

After that I most often hung out at the concession stand talking to DC. Sometimes I actually watched part of a movie.  He told me his age and that he was divorced from his wife who still lived in Washington. He told me about the time she had chased him down the stairs with a large pair of scissors. He had a three year old son whose photo looked just like him. I could tell he missed him very much. We talked and joked and laughed whenever he was not waiting on customers.

On his one night off a week, he came to my home and took me for rides on his Harley. My parents were never home in the evenings so I would invite all the neighborhood kids over and we would have fun playing music, card games, magic tricks, dancing, acting like fools, laughing, etc. DC would be there among the kids having as great a time as they were. The kids and I turned his nickname around from DC to CD and then to Ceder-Deder. That sounds pretty childish but some kids were only 11, like my sister and her friends. I feel sure that he knew it was all in fun and we all loved him.

He taught me to dance, always keeping a respectable foot of space between us, and he taught me to play chess. We spent hours having fun with all the kids that showed up on those nights. That went on for many months and then Ceder-Deder disappeared.  Though I missed him, I filled in the empty space in my life with friends, school work, and life in general. 

After about a year, when I was 14, Ceder-Deder showed up one sunny day. He told me he had just returned from Mexico and he brought me a very colorful satiny Mexican scarf. He also gave me a photo of himself that I cherish to this day.  I had realized as I got older that DC was a more proper name for him and that is what I called him that bright summer day as we stood out by the road and talked for hours. I never thought to ask him inside. Then he was gone again.

Another year passed. I came home from school one day and Mom said that DC had come by and wanted me and my younger sister to go out with him the next night, which was Saturday. I was 15 and my sister was 13. My big brother was home and he flew mad at Mom and yelled that she had NO business letting us go out with an older guy and WHO knew WHAT the heck he was up to and WHAT the heck was he hanging out with KIDS for anyway? I was shocked.  Brother had never said a bad word about DC.  My mom ignored him.

The next night Sister and I got ready and waited for DC to pick us up. He arrived driving an older black sedan. When we got into the front seat, I sat next to him and forced my sister to sit by the door. I was a bit nervous though because my brother had put some fear into me and my uneasiness probably showed. The air was static where it never had been before.

As we drove toward Miami Beach, DC explained that he had gotten a call from a couple that he and his ex-wife had been friends with in Washington. They were in Miami Beach on their honeymoon and they wanted him to bring a date and meet them for an evening of dining and clubbing. My mind was whirling with this news. I did not possess the slightest bit of sophistication.  My uneasiness grew the closer we got to our destination.

When we arrived amongst the bright lights and crowds in Miami Beach, I was wondering what in the world DC had been thinking. The couple was waiting on the sidewalk in front of their hotel with big smiles when we drove up. They got into the backseat and I could feel the trepidation and subdued anger emanating from them as DC introduced Sister and I as his "dates". Stunned silence ensued.

DC drove straight to Wolfie's which was a popular brightly lit restaurant on Collins Avenue. We all climbed out of the car and entered the restaurant and were seated in a huge booth with red leather seats in a half-moon shape. First the couple slid in, then DC had Sister slide in beside them. Next he had me slide in and then he took his place on the end. We were nearly swallowed up by the size of those leather seats and the huge round table. 

The silence was deafening as we looked at our menus. I so wanted to not be there. Again, what was DC thinking? We all ordered. The couple tried to make small talk with DC, seemingly intent on ignoring the fact that he had two young girls with him. He was not acting sullen but kind of cheerfully quiet and politely evasive. Every now and then Sister would say something and I would kick her to shut her up. It was excruciating. The couple tried to talk about the old days when DC and his then wife and this couple had such great times together in Washington. "Oh, remember that time....." They got little response.  

They tried to get DC to talk about what he had been doing since leaving Washington. Again little or no feedback from DC.  I could not figure out why we were here. Somehow I decided that this evening was some sort of message that this couple was supposed to take back to his ex-wife in Washington. But for the life of me, I could not figure out what that message might be. Maybe that DC had completely lost his mind, was all I could come up with.

Finally we had all choked down our food, probably not even noticing it was delicious, and climbed into the car for what was supposed to be a night of clubbing and seeing the sights. As we drove down the street away from the restaurant, the couple suddenly announced, you can let us out right here. DC obligingly pulled to the curb and they jumped out of the car, yelled goodnight, and hurried off down the sidewalk, disappearing into the crowd.

Not another word was spoken in the car as DC silently maneuvered into the traffic. We drove for awhile and then he turned off onto a side street and headed for a darkened building on some sort of waterfront dock area. He parked the car in front of a low building that had one lighted window. He told us to wait in the car for a few minutes.  We watched as he disappeared down some steps and into a dimly lit doorway. 

We waited and for once, my sister did not open her mouth. Finally she was grasping the situation, whatever that was I still did not have a clue. DC came out after awhile and got into the car. He said he had just rejoined the Coast Guard. He said this with a voice that was without emotion. He had a heavy heart, I could tell, but I still did not know why this evening had happened.

He drove for the next 45 minutes in silence and dropped us off in front of our home. I had a sad feeling that I would never see him again. The best, nicest guy I had ever or would ever know. I was right. I never saw him again. And I still miss him to this day.

click on photo to enlarge:

I should mention that I really don't know if DC came back when I turned 16 because we moved to another city/county shortly after this incident. Whereupon I was promptly raped by one of the local yokels. (I added this after my lil sis read it.) She was pretty shocked reading about my friendship with DC so imagine her finding out that I was safer with him than with a sex-offender in the form of an older teenage boy whose main objective in life was to break the hymen of every young "heifer" in town as soon as she turned 12. He didn't get to me earlier because I was 15 when I moved there, but after betting a friend a dollar, he got me. Jay Conner Gould. What a winner.

Doctors...Ya Gotta Love Em.

My dad, his name was Al. Most of my life I worried that he would die. When I heard him tell his half-brother that the doctor had found a heart murmur, I was sure he was going to die. I worried...and worried. I was 16 and I did not want to lose my dad.

When I was 19 I heard Dad tell Mom that the doctor said he had hardening of the arteries. He was evidently told that he was in danger of losing his legs. He came home extremely distraught. How would he work again if he lost his legs? I never knew how the doctor knew this about his arteries. This was in the early 50s and I nor a lot of people had ever heard of cholesterol. I don't want to lose my legs, cried my hard-working daddy. He worried...and worried... and I fretted. That doctor had him scared to death. We waited for that fateful day. It never came.

When I was 28, three doctors confirmed to Dad that he had a stomach ulcer. They said he could not eat anything spicy, including his favorite dessert of all time, mincemeat pie. He wanted that pie so badly but he did not eat it. He had to watch his diet religiously if he wanted that painful ulcer to heal. For two years he watched everything he ate and hoped the awful pain would go away soon.

Finally he could stand the pain no longer and went into the hospital. He told Mom that he hoped he would not be there long because he had to get back to work. The doctors decided to open him up to check on that ulcer that was causing him so much pain.

They opened and closed. Two weeks later he was dead. One doctor called Mom saying, I am so sorry, I never even thought of stomach cancer.

My mom, her name was Alice. She survived being a widow and a year later married a man 10 years younger than she. She had a new lease on life, much different from her previous life. After 17 years of marriage she began to feel a lump in her throat when swallowing. She went to many doctors who looked and did not see anything. The last doctor told her it was nerves (lump in the throat? why it must be nerves.) and to go home and take Valium.

After about five or six doctors, she gave up and decided to treat it herself. She had some sort of spray that she sprayed into her throat to ease the discomfort. One morning, about two years later, as she stood in front of the bathroom mirror to spray her throat, something unseen grabbed her wrist and pulled the spray away from her mouth. Try as she might, she could not get her hand back to spray her throat.

She went to another doctor who soon discovered that she had a cancer growing between her windpipe and her backbone. It was pressing into the back of her windpipe. She had surgery and the doctor announced he was sure he had gotten it all. She suffered for the next 6 months through chemo and radiation and then died of suffocation when her lungs filled with cancer.

My late husband, his name was Bert. He was very active with his Grotto and spelunking and rappelling. He was off every weekend to explore caves with his younger buddies. He was 65 and they were in their 20's, 30's, and 40's. They could hardly keep up with him.

But the doctor found he had high cholesterol. He started taking statins to lower it. As side effects, he suffered muscle and bone pain. He could no longer keep up with his younger buddies. He became the lookout at the entrance while they explored caves. His memory began to fail him. People said he sometimes acted odd and worried about him. These are some of the side effects of statins but I guess we thought it was worth it.....

Because his cholesterol was under control.

When he was 68 the doctor found a spot on his lung. Come back in a year. He went back and the spot was still there, maybe a little bit larger, but not much. Cancer they said. We must remove half the lung for your own good.

They did the surgery and he survived the worst experience of his life in the VA hospital. It gave him nightmares for a year after. But the biggest nightmare of all was after he got home a couple weeks later and wanted me to look up his cancer on the internet. Now he knew what it was called.

It was called small cell. I looked it up and printed out the page. He read it and said, they've killed me. It turns out that small cell lung cancer should not be operated on because that causes it to spread into the bloodstream and invade the whole body. Two years later he was dead.

I am not knocking doctors. They try. But as far as I am concerned, my life is in my hands, not theirs. I will make the decisions on what medications I take, on what tests I have, on what decisions are made in my final days. I can only hope the powers that be will at least heed my directives.

Dear Abby

WTF??? Abby, I am sorry but you really need to pass some letters by and NOT respond. You are a very rich woman and have obviously led a very sheltered life. I can think of many letters you should have passed by, but the most striking are the stupid everyday household questions that people ask you when they should be (thinking for themselves) asking Dear Heloise. Or me.

note: the wording is not accurate in the following letters but the subject is.

First one that comes to mind:

Dear Abby, my husband steps out of the shower dripping wet and leaves the bath mat soaked. I hate stepping barefoot on it after he leaves the bathroom. Shouldn't he be drying off in the shower before he steps out? signed, Very Pissed

Answer: Dear Very, isn't that what bath mats are for? I see no reason why he should not step out of the shower to stand on the bath mat to dry off.

Me: Are you nuts? No, you are merely wealthy and you and husband obviously have separate bathrooms where you do not have to suffer the indignity of stepping in his drippings.

Another letter:

Dear Abby, my husband leaves the shower curtain open when he leaves the shower. I like it closed to prevent mildew and it looks better. He refuses to listen to me. signed, Please Be on My Side

Dear Please Be, I have checked with my favorite high-priced hotel in New York City or wherever, and their cleaning ladies suggest that the shower curtain be left gathered in the middle of the rod with both ends open for air circulation. Of course their shower curtains get laundered regularly. (dig)

Me: Are you nuts? I'll bet you do not know what mildew is. I'll bet you do not and have never had shower curtains. Where is Heloise when we need her? Dear Wives, you are right and your husbands are wrong. What else is new? They should be drying off in the damned shower and then stepping out. They should be closing the shower curtain completely so it can dry out and not mildew in the folds. There is plenty of air circulation above the curtain.

Abby, you are definitely following in your dear mother's footsteps. She being the original Dear Abby. I remember clearly, many many years ago, some other naive wife wrote to say her husband thought she should be ironing the bedsheets. Your mom said, of course she should be ironing the bedsheets. Then after your mom got a truckload of mail from worn-out "housewives" (as they were called way back when), she admitted that her maid ironed the bedsheets and she had no idea that everyone did not possess a mangle. And/or a live-in maid, apparently.

Note: for those who do not know, a mangle was a large machine with a heated padded roller used for pressing large items, such as bedsheets. And for those who don't know what a live-in maid is, well, neither do I.

Edited
Oh boy, do I have a good one here. This is from today's newspaper (Jan. 22, 2010) and it proves my point, in fact it proves a few of my points. This will be borrowed from Dear Abby's column word for word:

Dear Abby: I'm having a dispute with my husband. He thinks that you screw in a light bulb clockwise. I disagree. I say counter-clockwise. Which of us are correct? Erika/ALA.

Dear Erika: He is. You screw in a light bulb by turning it to the right, the same way you tighten the lid on a jar- which is clockwise. The mnemonic (why would you use a word such as this?) for this is: "Right is tight: left is loose."

OK, first question: Why are wives having these dumb arguments with their husbands? Why don't they just unscrew or screw in a light bulb to settle the argument instead of writing to Dear Abby? Why does Dear Abby choose to answer such inane questions when I will bet there is a letter in your pile from someone who really needs advice? (I have a theory. Some (including Dear Abby) are confused between Heloise and Dear Abby. You both have a silver streak in your hair and you each inherited your columns from your mother.)

And as usual the husband is right. Now here are possible scenarios that would have different outcomes. If one is screwing the light bulb into a socket overhead (as in on the ceiling) it is screwed in counter-clockwise and the wife is right. If said light bulb is being screwed into a table lamp it is screwed in clockwise and the husband is right. So in reality it is a draw.

But Dear Abby does not think of possibilities. There is only one answer: the husband is right. And as far as the "mnemonic" is concerned, if you want to quote verbatim, the correct wording is: righty tighty, lefty loosey. Thank you Dear Abby, you have made my day. Sorry for picking on you but I just can't help it.

Yep, It Was a Nightmare

This is my account of taking my 19 year old granddaughter to the airport that is 3 hours away for her flight to the UK to visit her boyfriend for 3 weeks.

I am finally getting myself back. I cannot begin to describe the two days of hell. But of course I will try. It was truly a nightmare. First of all, at 2PM on Friday, the 18th, it started snowing heavily. I was supposed to pick up Granddaughter, who works 25 minutes away, at 5PM.

By 4PM I knew I had to get on the road. By the time I got into the car after shoveling the driveway and packing the car with water, snacks, sleeping bag, and wool blanket, it was 4:15. It was still snowing heavily and the heavy wet snow was piling up. I backed out of the driveway and slid around on the street. Started off down our one way street at 5-10mph. Every time I slightly applied the ABS brakes, they made a strange scary sound. The car was slipping and sliding for a block. Stop sign, I could barely get stopped. I knew I could not do it.

I turned around right there and made my way back to the house and called Granddaughter from the driveway. I told her she would have to find someone to spend the night with. She got upset and said she had to come home. She was sick. I said I didn't think I could make it.

Then I thought of going the wrong way on the one way street reaching the main road quicker. I did that and continued carefully on my way. When I finally reached and entered the interstate, I texted Granddaughter that I was coming. She texted back NO. I texted Yes. I could not turn back and I could not pull over to argue it out with her. There were cars all along the way in the ditches.

We texted the same thing back and forth for miles, me crawling along on sheets of ice and snow in very heavy traffic. I was following a semi and trying to stay in his tracks. Once he moved into the left lane and I followed. I could not see out of my rear-view mirror or side windows. Actually I didn't even think to look, I was so intent on staying in his tracks. I had pulled right into the path of another semi. He barely missed hitting me. We crawled along for more miles and Granddaughter texted that she already had a ride. I said, I was coming anyway. I had no choice.

It took about 1 1/2 hours to get there. I pulled into the parking lot and waited for her to finish up, she had to work an extra hour, but it was now 6PM. She came out and said the interstate was closed. It wasn't but I didn't say anything because I didn't want to drive on it again anyway. We drove up a curvy slippery untreated road to the Doubletree Hotel. I pulled in and we got in line for a room. I did not ask how much. Luckily we got a room. No comb or toothbrushes with us.

When we got to the room, Granddaughter tried to call her mom. Over and over again, no answer. She started losing it and I could do nothing as she did not want to hear from me. Finally her mom answered and poor Granddaughter went to pieces. I didn't know what the hell was going to happen. But her mom got her calmed down. She told her the snow was stopping, there was no more on the way, that it was only raining in Asheville and Charlotte. It would all be cleared up by morning. Of course I knew better but kept my mouth shut.

I did not sleep more than two hours that first night in the hotel. I was so worried about the next day and looking outside every hour to see it still pouring down snow. Oh, and Sis called me before I went to bed, telling me do not attempt that trip to Charlotte, her hubby in the background saying no don't go. She said the weather was very bad in Asheville and all the way to Charlotte. She said her hubby had come to pick her up at work at about 5PM, leaving her truck there and driving her home in his 4 wheel drive. She said that did not help at all, they were all over the road. When they got to bottom of the mountain, they had to park there and walk up about a mile in 10 inches of snow, her in her work clothes and shoes. Guess that is a kind of hell. They had no electric when they got home.

In the morning I could only run my hands through my hair, putting the same clothes back on, woke Granddaughter at 8AM (I thought it was 7AM but the hotel clock was wrong)and went to check out. The lady behind the desk said her daughter was stranded on the interstate for 9 hours with her new baby. The lady said she could not help screaming in fear all night until her daughter was safely rescued.

It had stopped snowing but we had 8 inches on the car that I had to scrape off. I cried with painful frozen fingers and could no longer grasp the scraper so Granddaughter finished the job. The parking lot was not scraped so we carefully made our way to the main road, about a quarter of a mile. Then slowly home. I was praying that Granddaughter would be able to pack fast and we could get on the road by noon so we could be in Charlotte before dark. It did not happen, we did not get on the road until 3PM. All the way to Charlotte the road was barely scraped, lots of swerving around mounds of snow piled on the interstate. Hundreds of cars in the ditches turned every which way and covered in snow and ice. It looked like a war zone. I worried there may still be people in them.

We got close to our hotel and it was already dark. I pulled off at an exit for some food. The traffic was horrible and it seemed everyone wanted to run over us. The lights were too bright and I had a hard time reading signs. I must have been suffering severe fatigue because when we were in the drive through to order, Granddaughter said something to me and I started to cry, pulling away without ordering. Neither of us got to eat and she needed it badly. After that she refused to order when we stopped at Waffle House. But I guess I misunderstood and she meant she did not want anything to drink. So I drank half a cup of coffee and we left. I felt really bad when she said later she was ready to eat. But would not agree to stop again. At the hotel I went another night without sleep, none at all, sat up most of the night. I was worried about the terrible weather they were having in Newark and so afraid her flight would be canceled.

In the morning, I got hold of the airport and her 6:30AM flight was delayed 5.5 hours but we still had to be there at 4:30AM to check in and she had to be at the gate by 6:30AM regardless. We left the hotel at 4AM and when we got into the airport, there were thousands of people lined up everywhere. We could barely get in the door. Or move after that. Granddaughter said she was not going to fly again on a holiday. I said that would be a good idea.

We managed to find the Continental ticket desk and luckily there was a short line there, it looked really long but those people were waiting for other airlines. The lady who checked Granddaughter in was so thrilled with her itinerary because she had made sure she had 12 hours between flights in case of delay. So she had an 8 hour wait at Charlotte and a 6 hour wait at Newark. Good thing I had bought her a new laptop to replace her broken one.

When she got to Newark she had a urinary tract infection that caused her awful pain and she could hardly leave the bathroom. She called her mom in Florida and her mom, after calling the airport numerous times, finally found someone there to get her a wheelchair but as soon as Granddaughter sat down in it, she got back up and ran into the bathroom. Her only choice would have been to miss her flight and go to a horrible (I looked it up, internet said horrible) hospital. She decided she could make it to the UK and Andy promised her medical help when she got there (after an 8 hour flight). I have not heard but I hope she did get medical care.

I drove for home in the early morning darkness, got lost in Charlotte and had to backtrack many miles. Finally on the right road, I drove for 3 hours with my eyes trying to close on me and no food since a half a mayonnaise sandwich at noon the day before. The sun shone and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Until I got to Asheville where it got darker (it was still morning) and I could barely see the mountain. The traffic on the interstate out of Asheville was heavy and only one lane open. Hundreds of utility trucks in a convoy heading for VA and other places that had no power. There was a blizzard on the mountain gap but we all drove slowly. I was so thankful when I finally came to the exit to my town.  Had to guess at where the actual road was but I did not end up in a ditch. 

I made it into my driveway where I saw that our 7 inches of snow was now 11 inches. I checked my phone and saw that Sis had called again. I listened to the message and she said to stay another night in Charlotte because of bad weather moving in again. Too late, I was home.

I called her and she said for me to go into the house and have a big glass of wine, not coffee, wine. Sounded strange for breakfast and on an empty stomach but I did what she said.  Then I passed out in my chair for hours. Later I went to bed and passed out again for 12 hours. The next day I unpacked my overnight bag and put some things away. I sat down in my chair for a minute about 11AM and passed out cold again. Did not even know I had shut my eyes until I woke up 3 hours later. I don't think I have ever been so tired.

I am a bit nervous about going back to pick her up on Jan 9 as it is a Saturday and the bad weather seems to be in a 7-day weekend cycle that will probably continue throughout the winter. This was the first time I have ever driven in snow and I do not like it.

Please Don't Let It Snow

Big snow coming. I have to drive 50 miles round trip tonight, leaving at 11:30PM and after picking up Granddaughter, returning home around 12:30AM. It is supposed to start snowing about 1AM. Wellll...I'm telling you, this much I know is true, it will be snowing out, there is no doubt, before this night is through. It seems whenever they make a nasty weather prediction for a certain time, whatever awful stuff is coming, always arrives about 2 hours early. Guess I will just have to deal with it. Not happy about it though. I have a wool blanket, sleeping bag, down jacket, water, and energy bars in the car. I wish I had a heavy bag of kitty litter in the trunk for traction but forgot to buy that. Wish me luck. I might just need it.

Ok, this is the next day and I know I sounded like a wuss but I had never ever driven in snow before and I do live in the mountains, so that adds to the terror. I usually make a point of staying at home during bad weather no matter what I need or where else I need to be.

Of course when it comes to my granddaughter it will be thru hell and high water to get to her no matter what. Glory be and hallelujah, though, it did not snow last night. They said it was going to be snowing pretty heavily today instead.

Well, guess what. I had to drive her back to work this morning in the snow fall. I dropped her off and hightailed it home though I really wanted to go shopping for computer bargains. When I got home, everything cleared up and I am still kicking myself for being such a scardy cat and not going to Best Buy but instead hiding out at home from the big bad storm that wasn't.

Dear Carrie Fisher

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.

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.