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By: Bella Stander,
on 7/4/2014
Blog: Reading Under the Covers (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: birds, nature, little me, Add a tag
This female ruby-throated hummingbird has been perched on the feeder outside my window for some two hours. Unlike larger birds, such as finches, she doesn't care how close I get to the window in my bright red shirt, and is unfazed when I move the camera. Every few minutes she takes a drink or two from the feeder. I even saw her tongue!
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By: Little Willow,
on 12/22/2013
Blog: readergirlz (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: anything is possible, Little Mix, music, confidence, Little Willow, lyrics, music video, Little Me, speak out, speak up, Add a tag
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By: Bella Stander,
on 1/12/2011
Blog: Reading Under the Covers (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
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By: Bella Stander,
on 1/11/2011
Blog: Reading Under the Covers (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
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My father would have been 103 years old today (the simplest date of all: 1/11/11). My latest acquisition of Lionel Stander memorabilia is a publicity still from The Big Show-Off, released in January 1945. I haven't seen it, but per the synopsis it's a typical Republic Pictures "B" picture. Its one claim to fame is that it stars Dale Evans just before she hitched up with Roy Rogers.
I visited my mom and stepfather in Maine two weeks ago. While I was doing my morning stretches, I suddenly noticed a book, which I'm sure had been on the same shelf for 20 years: BUILDING A CHARACTER. "Huh," I thought. "This might be useful in writing fiction." (I've been working on The Great American Potboiler, in fits and starts, for several years.)
I pulled the book down, and saw that the author was Constantin Stanislavski, inventor of "The Method" espoused by Jacob & Stella Adler, and countless other of Dad's actor friends.
I opened the book and was surprised to find that it was from the New York Public Library's Bloomingdale Branch, on West 100th St. Even more surprising, my father's temporary library card was in the pocket, with our old West End Avenue address and phone number--proof that he had indeed moved back in with Mom and me. The book was borrowed Dec 16, 1961, and due on Jan 26, 1962. The overdue fine is 5¢ "per calendar day." That's almost $900 by now, so this is a very valuable book.
I felt a mental connection with Dad when I started reading BUILDING A CHARACTER: this was a book that he went out of his way to read. The Dewey card is stuck between the first two pages of Chapter Four: "Making the Body Expressive." Did Dad get bored and stop there? That chapter is a bit of a slog. But he was such a voracious reader--usually a book per day--and Stanislavski's work so important that I'd like to think he read all the way through.
As luck would have it, today I found a bit on YouTube from "The Danny Kaye Radio Show," in which Kaye hilariously explains the Stanislavski Method to my father, who was a regular on the show. What I miss most about Dad is his voice, which is like no other. (I've never heard a credible imitation. When I was little my mother took me to the doctor because my voice was hoarse. Turned out I was trying to speak like Daddy.) So it's wonderful to be able to hear him long after his death--and long before my birth. He gets a few lines to set up the bit, then it's all Danny Kaye. Listen:
By: Bella Stander,
on 9/24/2010
Blog: Reading Under the Covers (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
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Caught in the act 10 minutes ago.
By: Bella Stander,
on 7/6/2010
Blog: Reading Under the Covers (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
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Jenny, March 2007. (Her tongue was mauve on top, pink underneath.)
Jenny, The Best Dog died one year ago today. I still miss her, even though Abby, whom we adopted a month ago, filled the dog-sized hole in my heart. Abby likes to bound into the water to fetch a stick or ball, whereas Jenny's favorite activity was The Pebble Game. See it below (I was still pitching lefty 4 months after the 2nd surgery on my right arm).
By: Bella Stander,
on 5/1/2010
Blog: Reading Under the Covers (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
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My new Twitterverse. Beyond the fence is a horse farm.
On May 1, 2006, Gomez the horse threw me into a steel-pipe fence outside Denver. My body was smashed and so was my psyche. (See 2009 posts Still Shattered, or The Never-Ending Story; The Never-Ending Story 2: Arm-ageddon and I'm Psychologically Distoibed!)
I'm happy to report that after 4 years and 8 surgeries--plus 2 bonus surgeries not caused by Gomez--I'm finally healed, if not all better. (There's a difference.) I owe it to therapeutic massage from the fantabulously gifted Dirk McQuistion, founder of MassageSpecialists.com, who gave me hope after the doctors gave up; Somatic Experiencing therapy from the wonderful Mel Grusing; and moving to Rhinebeck, where nothing reminds me of the last 4 years, and just going outside makes me happy.
Max is also happy to be here.
By: Bella Stander,
on 4/14/2010
Blog: Reading Under the Covers (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
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By: Bella Stander,
on 4/12/2010
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Them??? I am so not digging any deeper. Nor will I be putting any horse legs, weathered or not, out for the Monday trash pick-up.
By: Bella Stander,
on 4/1/2010
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By: Bella Stander,
on 3/24/2010
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By: Bella Stander,
on 3/22/2010
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By: Bella Stander,
on 3/13/2010
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By: Bella Stander,
on 12/8/2009
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Photo by Chris Woods - courtesy of The Lynx Educational Foundation
Boy Wonder reminded me that I'd told him that if I ever moved to Florida, he should have me committed--or shot. I pointed out that a short midwinter trip requires no such action on his part.
By: Bella Stander,
on 12/7/2009
Blog: Reading Under the Covers (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
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By: Bella Stander,
on 11/30/2009
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My father died of cancer 15 years ago today. We were a continent apart then--he in L.A. and me on the East Coast--and he would go years without seeing, or even speaking, to me. But now he's a constant presence in my life, due to the dozens of photographs on the walls of "the Dad gallery" in the upstairs hallway. I see him when I first wake up in the morning and just before I go to bed at night, which rarely happened during my childhood.
The newest additions to my ever-growing collection of Lionel Stander images came via email a few weeks ago. Early this year a woman in California named Valerie Hunken found me via Google. She was going through the possessions of her late father, the actor and stage director Leonidas Dudarew-Ossetynski. Among them were some stills from a 1961 Off-Broadway production of The Policeman, with my father. Would I be interested in those photographs?
Of course I would, I wrote her. I hadn't known anything about The Policemen or Dudarew-Ossetynski. (I learned from Google that he was born an aristocrat in Wilno, Poland--now Vilnius, Lithuania.) The only shows I recalled Dad being in were The Conquering Hero (memorable because Tom Poston held a puppy that peed on his hand during a rehearsal in Philadelphia), Brecht's Arturo Ui and Luther. The latter two were directed by Tony Richardson, who went on to cast my father in a London production of Brecht's St. Joan of the Stockyards, then broke the Hollywood Blacklist by putting him in the The Loved One (still one of my all-time favorite movies).
Months went by and I forgot about Hunken. Then out of the blue the photographs arrived on November 12th, four days after my birthday. And who else should be in some of the photos than Jack Gilford, whom I first knew as the nice man in the Cracker Jack commericals. (I still remember the lyrics!) He was also blacklisted, though not as long as my dad if he was doing commercials in the early 1960s.
Rehearsal of The Policemen. Director Leonidas Dudarew-Ossetynski is atop table, Lionel Stander is seated at center, Jack Gilford is s
By: Bella Stander,
on 11/9/2009
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By: Bella Stander,
on 10/13/2009
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By: Bella Stander,
on 10/9/2009
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Enough of the sweet stuff. Now for the bitter...
Darling Husband's job--the one that moved us to Denver in Dec 2005--was eliminated in June. So our Blue Cross/Shield plan is now under Cobra. (How fitting that US health coverage is named for a venomous snake.) The surgery had to be pre-approved by Blue Cross, else it wouldn't have been scheduled. The first thing I had to do when hobbling into the hospital's registration office yesterday morning was submit my insurance ID card & driver's license. Then I had to sign & initial a gazillion forms.
After I was lying in a gurney prepped for surgery--with glasses off, so I couldn't read anything--I had to sign and initial even more forms. The kicker came just before I was knocked out, when I was given a form agreeing to pay the surgeon's assistant, who's an independent contractor. The surgery can't be done without her, but Blue Cross doesn't believe it takes 4 hands to:
I got little sleep last night because every time the nurse turned off the lights & left the room, some machine started beeping wildly. First it was the one that inflated cuffs around my calves every few seconds to keep blood clots from forming (and me from relaxing). Then it was the IV machine. Then it was the oxygen pump. Then it was the oxygen pump monitor.
"Look," I said, "give me another Valium so this stupid stuff won't bother me anymore, OK? And give the machines Valium, so they'll calm down too."
I got the Valium. Don't know if the machines did, though they did shut up eventually.
I was back home and in bed by 1:30pm, after having belted down a couple of Valium so I'd be sure to sleep. A nanosecond after DH finished tucking the covers under my chin, Max leaped onto me. Within minutes I was zonked out with a 14-lb purring heating pad draped from crotch to chin.
Not 2 hours later my bliss was shattered by a phone call from a lady at the hospital billing office. What could she possible want? Well, it seems that Blue Cross, which just this morning had approved the physical therapist's request for a walker, told her that my insurance had expired months ago. Kudos to me for not swearing a blue streak when I told her to call Blue Cross back and inform them how extremely wrong they are.
I'll bet that the people in Congress fighting universal health care--whose generous coverage is funded by our tax dollars--don't go through crap like this.
Is this a great country, or what?
*Note to FTC: I received no goods, payments, services--or even dinner--from any persons or entities in return for my mentioning them in this blog post. Though considering the cost of health care, I would have gladly accepted medical kickbacks.
By: Bella Stander,
on 8/27/2009
Blog: Reading Under the Covers (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
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By: Bella Stander,
on 7/6/2009
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By: Bella Stander,
on 6/15/2009
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By: Bella Stander,
on 5/27/2009
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By: Bella Stander,
on 5/23/2009
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By: Bella Stander,
on 5/17/2009
Blog: Reading Under the Covers (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
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And then there's the subhead:
The article tells how, after the Revolution, Hessian soldiers who had been imprisoned in Charlottesville (which named Barracks Road and Hessian Hills after them) took off and settled in the nearby Ragged Mountains, "a small range of black, gloomy hills." The Times's anonymous reporter then wrote, apparently forgetting that Hessians were, um, Saxons:
P.S. Now I'm on the lookout for Delicious, Lodi, Honeycrisp, Golden Delicious or Fuji apple trees.
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By: Bella Stander,
on 7/4/2014
Blog: Reading Under the Covers (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
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By: Little Willow,
on 12/22/2013
Blog: readergirlz (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: anything is possible, Little Mix, music, confidence, Little Willow, lyrics, music video, Little Me, speak out, speak up, Add a tag
Anything is possible, if you set your mind to it, work hard, and have your heart in the right place.
Little Mix, an awesome all-female vocal group and winner of The X Factor, reinforces these ideas in their new song "Little Me." The next time you're feeling down on yourself, turn this song on and remind yourself that the possibilities are endless, and that you can be anything you want to be.
If you can't see the video embedded above, click here to watch it on YouTube.
Wish I knew back then what I know now
Wish I could somehow go back in time
And maybe listen to my own advice
I'd tell her to speak up, tell her to shout out
Talk a bit louder, be a bit prouder
Tell her she's beautiful, wonderful,
Everything she doesn't see
You gotta speak up, you gotta shout out
And know that right here, right now
You can be beautiful, wonderful,
Anything you wanna be
Click here to read all of the lyrics.
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By: Bella Stander,
on 1/12/2011
Blog: Reading Under the Covers (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: little me, Rhinebeck, nature, dogs, Add a tag
A snowstorm is Nature's way of saying "Stay home!" And I'd gladly hibernate inside, only I have this 64-pound bundle of joy that needs off-leash romps several times a day. So I put on the puffy jacket, pulled up the tall boots and ventured out.
Abby went over to the car, as usual, and was incredulous when I started walking up the street. After a bit of convincing--she didn't understand about the driveway not being plowed--she came bounding through the snow. We trespassed in our neighbors' backyards (nobody else was outside; go figure) then ended up in our own, where I took these pictures.
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By: Bella Stander,
on 1/11/2011
Blog: Reading Under the Covers (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
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My father would have been 103 years old today (the simplest date of all: 1/11/11). My latest acquisition of Lionel Stander memorabilia is a publicity still from The Big Show-Off, released in January 1945. I haven't seen it, but per the synopsis it's a typical Republic Pictures "B" picture. Its one claim to fame is that it stars Dale Evans just before she hitched up with Roy Rogers.
I visited my mom and stepfather in Maine two weeks ago. While I was doing my morning stretches, I suddenly noticed a book, which I'm sure had been on the same shelf for 20 years: BUILDING A CHARACTER. "Huh," I thought. "This might be useful in writing fiction." (I've been working on The Great American Potboiler, in fits and starts, for several years.)
I pulled the book down, and saw that the author was Constantin Stanislavski, inventor of "The Method" espoused by Jacob & Stella Adler, and countless other of Dad's actor friends.
I opened the book and was surprised to find that it was from the New York Public Library's Bloomingdale Branch, on West 100th St. Even more surprising, my father's temporary library card was in the pocket, with our old West End Avenue address and phone number--proof that he had indeed moved back in with Mom and me. The book was borrowed Dec 16, 1961, and due on Jan 26, 1962. The overdue fine is 5¢ "per calendar day." That's almost $900 by now, so this is a very valuable book.I felt a mental connection with Dad when I started reading BUILDING A CHARACTER: this was a book that he went out of his way to read. The Dewey card is stuck between the first two pages of Chapter Four: "Making the Body Expressive." Did Dad get bored and stop there? That chapter is a bit of a slog. But he was such a voracious reader--usually a book per day--and Stanislavski's work so important that I'd like to think he read all the way through.
As luck would have it, today I found a bit on YouTube from "The Danny Kaye Radio Show," in which Kaye hilariously explains the Stanislavski Method to my father, who was a regular on the show. What I miss most about Dad is his voice, which is like no other. (I've never heard a credible imitation. When I was little my mother took me to the doctor because my voice was hoarse. Turned out I was trying to speak like Daddy.) So it's wonderful to be able to hear him long after his death--and long before my birth. He gets a few lines to set up the bit, then it's all Danny Kaye. Listen:
By: Bella Stander,
on 9/24/2010
Blog: Reading Under the Covers (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
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Abby 2 days ago after a good night's sleep (note pillow on floor), with her ball & Boy Wonder's gently chewed shoes.
In my July 24 update on Mother's Little Odalisque, I said I'd put heavier furniture on the couch (see above) to keep Abby off. That worked like a charm. Now my Clever Girl is pulling the throw pillows, which I stack on a chair at night, onto the floor to cushion her weary head. One of my next purchases will be a cushy dog bed, which she'd damn well better sleep on.
Caught in the act 10 minutes ago.
0 Comments on Canine Couch Battles, Round 2 as of 1/1/1900
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By: Bella Stander,
on 7/6/2010
Blog: Reading Under the Covers (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
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Jenny, March 2007. (Her tongue was mauve on top, pink underneath.)Jenny, The Best Dog died one year ago today. I still miss her, even though Abby, whom we adopted a month ago, filled the dog-sized hole in my heart. Abby likes to bound into the water to fetch a stick or ball, whereas Jenny's favorite activity was The Pebble Game. See it below (I was still pitching lefty 4 months after the 2nd surgery on my right arm).
0 Comments on In Memorium as of 7/6/2010 9:23:00 AM
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By: Bella Stander,
on 5/1/2010
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My new Twitterverse. Beyond the fence is a horse farm.On May 1, 2006, Gomez the horse threw me into a steel-pipe fence outside Denver. My body was smashed and so was my psyche. (See 2009 posts Still Shattered, or The Never-Ending Story; The Never-Ending Story 2: Arm-ageddon and I'm Psychologically Distoibed!)
I'm happy to report that after 4 years and 8 surgeries--plus 2 bonus surgeries not caused by Gomez--I'm finally healed, if not all better. (There's a difference.) I owe it to therapeutic massage from the fantabulously gifted Dirk McQuistion, founder of MassageSpecialists.com, who gave me hope after the doctors gave up; Somatic Experiencing therapy from the wonderful Mel Grusing; and moving to Rhinebeck, where nothing reminds me of the last 4 years, and just going outside makes me happy.
Max is also happy to be here.
6 Comments on May Day 5: Healed at Last, last added: 5/4/2010
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By: Bella Stander,
on 4/14/2010
Blog: Reading Under the Covers (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
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Further to my previous post--and egged on by my friend Stefanie, the artistic, cultural & now literary doyenne of Schuyler, VA--I sent Dr E the following message:
Inquiring minds want to know:Under the header "Cadaverous," Dr E responded:
- Did you often cut off horse legs?
- Why must the legs be put outside to "weather"?
- Most important: Are there many more in the backyard?
Murder mystery writers may be interested to know that the horse leg in question still has some hair on it and is a bit smelly. Hence I covered it with more leaves, capped by a large stone to deter critters. And just in case Dr E's memory is faulty, I'm not doing any more digging in the 3-foot strip between the stone wall and back fence.Well, Bella, it goes something like this:
In human surgery, rubber cadavers are made to hone stereoscopic skills like arthroscopy. No such luck in equine field. As such, to hone and retain skills, cadaver limbs can be harvested off horses that have died for other reasons. They are typically frozen and then thawed for practice.
I thawed this limb for practice but made the mistake of doing so on a weekend when I was on call. I got called in repeatedly and as such the limb was past its best, so I decided that it would not go to waste if I allowed time and microbes to ravage the soft tissue, leaving me with a nice anatomic specimen that could then be further cleaned (with acetone etc. to de-grease). Such specimens are helpful when explaining to a client a problem with a structure in the limb, since the anatomy is so different from a human.
I am completely at a loss as to whether there would be another limb. I never thawed more than two at a time, and in the majority of instances it was one at a time only due to time constraints. The only consolation I offer you is that the extreme length of time and overwintering the bones have encountered will render them no more noxious that digging in the garden.
I trust that satisfactorily answers your questions. I was talking to a friend and expressing amazement that you had a blog. We then discussed how amazing it is that we become so familiar with various things in our lives (like the use of cadaver tissue for learning) that it becomes part of our 'normal' and that we fail to recognize how bizarre it is in someone else's 'reality'!!!
As my uncle would have said--all a matter of perspective--his famous example being: "The grass is greener on the other side of the fence due to the palisade effect and does not look so green when you look down at your feet and see a mixture of brown earth and green stems!!!!"
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By: Bella Stander,
on 4/12/2010
Blog: Reading Under the Covers (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
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Email exchange between me and the previous tenant of my Gracious Home in Rhinebeck, a British equine surgeon who relocated to France.
Me: While tidying up the yard, I picked up a rectangular white plastic bin that was sitting upside down between the stone wall & back fence, to the right of the shed. Underneath it I was surprised to find a horse's hoof and foreleg protruding from a pile of leaves (now buried under more leaves, capped by a rock). I was wondering whether you know anything about this.
Horse doc: Oh I am so very sorry about the leg in the yard. I put them out to weather and they have been there a very long time. I completely forgot. Very sorry. They could prob go in normal trash now.
Them??? I am so not digging any deeper. Nor will I be putting any horse legs, weathered or not, out for the Monday trash pick-up.
8 Comments on About that Horse Leg in the Backyard..., last added: 4/13/2010
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By: Bella Stander,
on 4/1/2010
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UK film magazine The Big Picture has an article about my father, Lionel Stander (above in "The Loved One"):
Jez Connolly of The Big Picture also did an online interview with me: First Person
1 Comments on At the Cinema with Dad & Me, last added: 4/1/2010
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By: Bella Stander,
on 3/24/2010
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Movers are packing up my life as I write. Tomorrow everything goes on a van. Friday we fly to New York. On April 2 we face the unspeakable pleasure of unpacking furnishings for a 1900 sq ft home into 1300 sq ft, plus a very large (dry!) basement.
6 Comments on Displaced, last added: 3/25/2010
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By: Bella Stander,
on 3/22/2010
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Boy Wonder's well-loved stuffed animals, on a closet shelf for 4 years, to be boxed up for the next generation. [SNIFFLE...]
5 Comments on The Hardest Farewell of All, last added: 3/24/2010
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By: Bella Stander,
on 3/13/2010
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I'm just back from a week in New York, where Darling Husband and I signed a lease on a 1950s ranch house in Rhinebeck.
In square footage (1300 vs 1900) and architecture it doesn't compare well to the Victorian house in Denver we're selling:
But lot size (1/2 acre vs 40x100 ft) and the view looking out make all the difference.
From the front:
And best of all, from the back:
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By: Bella Stander,
on 12/8/2009
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It is now 1°F in Denver. (Celsius=Too F*cking Cold!) It's colder and snowier here than in Minneapolis, Toronto and Portland, Maine. The snow squeaks underfoot and it hurts my lungs to breathe outside. Feh!
Consequently, I'm very happy to be working on our next Bella Terra Maps product: Florida Lighthouses. We plan to have it printed in time for me to bring copies when I go to the Space Coast Writers' Guild Conference in Cocoa Beach at the end of January. One of my half-sisters lives nearby, so I'll visit her for a few days--along with as many lighthouses and maritime museums as possible.
I also plan to visit Gilbert's Bar House of Refuge, below.
Click here for entrancing 360° view. I've been looking at it A LOT.
Oh, and HMS Bounty and the 1812 privateer schooner Lynx (below) will be docked in Palm Beach. Both offer dockside tours and the Lynx has daily Adventure Sails. I am so there! (Along with a bottle of scleranthus, the Bach Flower Remedy for motion-sickness.)
Photo by Chris Woods - courtesy of The Lynx Educational FoundationBoy Wonder reminded me that I'd told him that if I ever moved to Florida, he should have me committed--or shot. I pointed out that a short midwinter trip requires no such action on his part.
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By: Bella Stander,
on 12/7/2009
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An arctic blast hit Denver over the weekend. It snowed yet again last night--snowfall #9 since October 8, for those keeping score. When I got up this morning it was 3°F outside. The thermometer outside my dining room window registered a sultry 20° a little after noon. When last I looked it was 10°.
Sunday night I watched Silk Stockings, with songs by Cole Porter, starring Fred Astaire and Cyd Charisse. (Fun fact: costar Janis Paige was married to my father's double-cousin Arthur, whose parents were Dad's paternal aunt and a Stander cousin.)
And what song could be more appropriate to the frigid weather than "Siberia," sung by Joseph Buloff, Jules Munshin & Peter Lorre:
When we’re sent to dear Siberia,Here's the number (stop at 2:31):
To Siberi-eri-a,
When it’s cocktail time ’twill be so nice
Just to know you’ll not have to phone for ice.When we meet in sweet Siberia,
Far from Bolshevik hysteria,
We’ll go on a tear,
For our buddies all are there
In cheery Siberi-a.
When we’re sent to dear Siberia,
To Siberi-eri-a,
There’s a most delicious bill of fare,
You must try our filet of polar bear.
When we meet in sweet Siberia
To protect us from diphtheria,
We can toast our toes
On the lady Eskimos
In cheery Siberi-a.
When we’re sent to dear Siberia,
To Siberi-eri-a,
Where the fresh salt air makes us feel so fine,
It is fresh salt air from our own salt mine.
When we meet in sweet Siberia,
Where the snow is so superia
You can bet, all right
That your Christmas will be white
In cheery Siberi-a.
1 Comments on In Cheery Siberia (aka Denver, CO), last added: 12/8/2009
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By: Bella Stander,
on 11/30/2009
Blog: Reading Under the Covers (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: blacklist, Dear Old Dad, little me, Add a tag
My father died of cancer 15 years ago today. We were a continent apart then--he in L.A. and me on the East Coast--and he would go years without seeing, or even speaking, to me. But now he's a constant presence in my life, due to the dozens of photographs on the walls of "the Dad gallery" in the upstairs hallway. I see him when I first wake up in the morning and just before I go to bed at night, which rarely happened during my childhood.
The newest additions to my ever-growing collection of Lionel Stander images came via email a few weeks ago. Early this year a woman in California named Valerie Hunken found me via Google. She was going through the possessions of her late father, the actor and stage director Leonidas Dudarew-Ossetynski. Among them were some stills from a 1961 Off-Broadway production of The Policeman, with my father. Would I be interested in those photographs?
Of course I would, I wrote her. I hadn't known anything about The Policemen or Dudarew-Ossetynski. (I learned from Google that he was born an aristocrat in Wilno, Poland--now Vilnius, Lithuania.) The only shows I recalled Dad being in were The Conquering Hero (memorable because Tom Poston held a puppy that peed on his hand during a rehearsal in Philadelphia), Brecht's Arturo Ui and Luther. The latter two were directed by Tony Richardson, who went on to cast my father in a London production of Brecht's St. Joan of the Stockyards, then broke the Hollywood Blacklist by putting him in the The Loved One (still one of my all-time favorite movies).
Months went by and I forgot about Hunken. Then out of the blue the photographs arrived on November 12th, four days after my birthday. And who else should be in some of the photos than Jack Gilford, whom I first knew as the nice man in the Cracker Jack commericals. (I still remember the lyrics!) He was also blacklisted, though not as long as my dad if he was doing commercials in the early 1960s.
Rehearsal of The Policemen. Director Leonidas Dudarew-Ossetynski is atop table, Lionel Stander is seated at center, Jack Gilford is s
3 Comments on Yahrzeit #15...and A Day In Court, last added: 12/3/2009
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By: Bella Stander,
on 11/9/2009
Blog: Reading Under the Covers (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: music, little me, Add a tag
Today started off happier, thanks to all the birthday wishes I got via email and Facebook. I've had the Kinks on my mind the past few days, but couldn't find anything by them in our pared-down music collection (350 LPs & 500+ CDs). So I played T. Rex instead. Loud.
After a very late breakfast I stretched out on the couch to read the Sunday Times to a 2-CD set of Chopin nocturnes. Op. 9 No. 2 is one of my favorites:
At around 3:30, Darling Husband took me out for another drive to Washington Park. This time we went to the southern lake, and shared a bench with a woman who had her newly adopted miniature collie on a leash. On the way to and from the park, I relived my wild days in art school by listening to a tape of Jerry Jeff Walker's ¡Viva Terlingua!, which I'd found when vainly rummaging around for a Kinks tape that I suddenly remembered once owning. I still know all the words to "Up Against the Wall Redneck Mother":
I further relived my wanton youth by listening to a tape of Edgar Winter's White Trash ("Oh, the Scientologist," said DH). Here's "Keep Playing that Rock & Roll":
Which then led to Long John Baldry's "It Ain't Easy." It opens with the definitive version of "Don't Try to Lay No Boogie Woogie on the King of Rock & Roll," but the only track I could find on YouTube is "Flying":
After that came Leon Russell:
By: Bella Stander,
on 10/13/2009
Blog: Reading Under the Covers (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
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I was feeling guilty that I wasn't exercising enough, because the hospital discharge instructions said I should walk 20-30 mins a day. So using a walker, yesterday afternoon I crept about 10 yds down the street, then 120 ft from front to back yard.
Afterwards I got sorer & droopier. This morning I could hardly move & my left foot was more numb. Off to the surgeon, who said the sciatic nerve was flared again. When he'd operated last week, it was so red & inflamed that he was surprised there'd been any immediate improvement. Now I'm flat on my back & on steroids. Again.
New orders: All walking is to be done in the house--from room to room, up/down the stairs.
Motto: Slow & steady wins the race.
1 Comments on Parsing Aesop, last added: 10/13/2009
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By: Bella Stander,
on 10/9/2009
Blog: Reading Under the Covers (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: lit life, little me, denver, Add a tag
What a crazy 2 weeks it's been:
- Monday 9/28 - 8:45am: visit to emergency room for lumbar and leg pain; 3pm exam by osteopath.
- Tuesday 9/29 - 1:30am: another ER visit; 2:30pm exam by physiatrist & house showing (canceled when we arrived at doctor's office; GRRR); 6pm dinner with AJ Jacobs & posse before his event for THE GUINEA PIG DIARIES at the Tattered Cover (which I was too sore to attend).
- Thursday 10/1 - 4pm: house showing & neuromuscular massage at MassageSpecialists.com.*
- Friday 10/2 - Literary Ladies Luncheon (see 10/9 New West article by Janet Singleton!)
- Monday 10/5 - 11am: epidural steroid injection by physiatrist.
- Tuesday 10/6 - 10am: exam by spine surgeon, who set up immediate surgery; 5pm neuromuscular massage; 6:30pm dinner with Agent Kristin.
- Wednesday 10/7 - 8:30am pre-op physical with GP; 3pm shrink session.
- Thursday 10/8 - 6am check-in for 7:30am surgery (moved up from 10:30--YAY!).
Enough of the sweet stuff. Now for the bitter...
Darling Husband's job--the one that moved us to Denver in Dec 2005--was eliminated in June. So our Blue Cross/Shield plan is now under Cobra. (How fitting that US health coverage is named for a venomous snake.) The surgery had to be pre-approved by Blue Cross, else it wouldn't have been scheduled. The first thing I had to do when hobbling into the hospital's registration office yesterday morning was submit my insurance ID card & driver's license. Then I had to sign & initial a gazillion forms.
After I was lying in a gurney prepped for surgery--with glasses off, so I couldn't read anything--I had to sign and initial even more forms. The kicker came just before I was knocked out, when I was given a form agreeing to pay the surgeon's assistant, who's an independent contractor. The surgery can't be done without her, but Blue Cross doesn't believe it takes 4 hands to:
- slice into the back with the aid of a microscope;
- move aside the spinal cord & sciatic nerve;
- cut the bulge off a lumbar disc;
- cut off protruding arthritic knobs at the end of 3 vertebrae that have changed 3 discs from elastic white to hard black;
- staple everything closed.
I got little sleep last night because every time the nurse turned off the lights & left the room, some machine started beeping wildly. First it was the one that inflated cuffs around my calves every few seconds to keep blood clots from forming (and me from relaxing). Then it was the IV machine. Then it was the oxygen pump. Then it was the oxygen pump monitor.
"Look," I said, "give me another Valium so this stupid stuff won't bother me anymore, OK? And give the machines Valium, so they'll calm down too."
I got the Valium. Don't know if the machines did, though they did shut up eventually.
I was back home and in bed by 1:30pm, after having belted down a couple of Valium so I'd be sure to sleep. A nanosecond after DH finished tucking the covers under my chin, Max leaped onto me. Within minutes I was zonked out with a 14-lb purring heating pad draped from crotch to chin.
Not 2 hours later my bliss was shattered by a phone call from a lady at the hospital billing office. What could she possible want? Well, it seems that Blue Cross, which just this morning had approved the physical therapist's request for a walker, told her that my insurance had expired months ago. Kudos to me for not swearing a blue streak when I told her to call Blue Cross back and inform them how extremely wrong they are.
I'll bet that the people in Congress fighting universal health care--whose generous coverage is funded by our tax dollars--don't go through crap like this.
Is this a great country, or what?
*Note to FTC: I received no goods, payments, services--or even dinner--from any persons or entities in return for my mentioning them in this blog post. Though considering the cost of health care, I would have gladly accepted medical kickbacks.
6 Comments on I Survived!, last added: 10/12/2009
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By: Bella Stander,
on 8/27/2009
Blog: Reading Under the Covers (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: food, little me, Add a tag
All of you in the rainy, blighted Northeast, be very, very jealous. I picked the tomatoes pictured above in my own backyard this morning. The yellow monster weighed in at 13-1/4 oz. We had it sliced at dinner. It was delicious.
In the morning I myself am off to the rainy, blighted Northeast, to celebrate my mom's Big Birthday in the poetically named Gray, Maine. Saturday's forecast: 62F & rain. Oh joy.
0 Comments on Harvest Gold as of 8/27/2009 11:30:00 PM
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By: Bella Stander,
on 7/6/2009
Blog: Reading Under the Covers (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: pets, little me, Add a tag
Six months ago, Jenny was going on long mountain walks, splashing around in Cherry Creek and running away after deer. She'd slowed down considerably since the days she'd raced against motorcycles, but she was still way ahead of us on the trail. Then she slowed down even more. By March we had to wait for her to catch up when we went for long walks. By April she refused to go on long walks at all. Arthritis in her hips, the vet said.
We tried various medicines, in various dosages, but Jenny got increasingly feeble. By her 13th birthday in mid-June she couldn't even walk around the block. Nor could she get upstairs to sleep on the floor at the foot of our bed, which she'd done since she was a puppy. After the last vet visit 2 weeks ago, I took Jenny to her favorite park. We'd only walked 5 minutes when she turned around and headed back to the car.
After that she wouldn't walk more than 50 yards from the house, and spent most of her time stretched out on her side on the bare living room floor, panting. Whenever I petted her she emitted the faintest high-pitched whine.
Friday morning I called the vet to ask for an end to Jenny's suffering--and our anguish over her. He said he'd be here at 8:00 a.m. today.
At 7:00 this morning I sat on the front steps, with Jenny stretched out at the bottom because she couldn't make it back into the house. At 7:30 I brought out a cup of tea and yesterday's NY Times Magazine. At 7:45 Darling Husband came out to sit with us. Jenny moved into the shade along the north side of the house and barked for the last time at Snowy, the cat next door, who was walking along the fence. At 8:00 we were more than ready for the vet, but no one showed up.
At 8:15 I called the vet's office. The receptionist said they had us down for an appointment there. She was unswayed by my tears of grief and rage; no way was anyone coming to our house today.
Jenny was always terrified at the vet's; she'd start panting and trembling as soon as we pulled into the parking lot. Which was only as far as she was going to go, we decided. If the vet wouldn't come to our house, he could at least attend to Jenny in our car. So she'd be calmer for her final trip, I shoved 10mg of Valium down her throat (like a cat, she always spat out pills). When I pulled my hand out, a big chunk of one of her molars came with it.
DH pulled the car around in front, close to the curb. I had to lift Jenny's hind end so she could get onto the floor, and then again so she could get up onto the back seat.
There was quite a crowd at the vets'. My eyes were so blurred with tears that at first I couldn't read the euthanasia form I was given to sign. For a half-hour, DH and I sat with Jenny in the car, petting her and telling her what a good girl she is.
Finally the vet came out. He had the good grace to apologize profusely for the screw-up. Then he and the tech injected Jenny with a sedative, and then something lethal.
I kept my left hand under Jenny's neck, my fingertips buried in the fur at her throat, where I could feel the vibration of her breathing. I stroked her head with my right hand and kept telling her it was okay to let go, that she'd always be my baby.
"This'll only take 4 or 5 minutes," the vet said. But it didn't. It took a good 10 minutes, plus 2 more injections. The reason was most likely circulatory problems--"probably her lungs," which fit in with Jenny's rapid decline and harsh, labored breathing.
The vibrations in her throat grew fainter and fainter, then stopped. In another minute I could feel Jenny was gone. Now my baby can rest without pain.
13 Comments on Jenny, The Best Dog, last added: 7/23/2009
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By: Bella Stander,
on 6/15/2009
Blog: Reading Under the Covers (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: pets, little me, BookExpo, books, Add a tag
I haven't been posting lately because not much has been going on in my life, except:
- I went to NYC for 4 nights for BookExpo, and also gave a "Polish Your Pitch" workshop with Ron Hogan at Backspace Writers Agent-Author Day.
- Then I spent 3 nights in the Kingston, NY, area, where I hope to live in the not-too-distant future.
- Just as I was returning the rental car in Poughkeepsie, Darling Husband called to say that he'd been laid off his job of 8 years--the one we'd moved to Denver for 3-1/2 years ago.
- I have to crank out the text (some 17 K words) for the Bella Terra Massachusetts Lighthouses map so it can go to press in 10 days.
- I'm giving another phone seminar on June 28. (Details in sidebar.)
- Last Thursday, I had 3+ hours of excruciating nerve tests on my dysfunctional right arm, which has had 3 surgeries since I broke it 3 years ago. Preliminary results: Further neurosurgery would probably do more harm than good; my 3 middle fingers will remain numb forever.
- I had 8 days of debilitating headache (technically neuralgia), caused by Denver's unusually damp & stormy weather. On the plus side, my garden has never looked more lush.
- Tomorrow I go back to Dr #13, a hand/arm specialist at Denver Health's Center for Complex Fractures (which I wish I'd known about 3 years ago, GRRRR...), who will tell me whether further orthopedic surgery will help. If he says not, I'm giving up.
- My wonderful dog Jenny, who turned 13 yesterday, is rapidly succumbing to arthritis. Once upon a time she'd run for hours without stopping. Now she can walk--slowly--for 10 minutes at most, and can barely make it up the 3 steps into the house. We've tried all sorts of meds, to no avail. Today I started her on Dog Gone Pain as a last-ditch effort, and tomorrow she'll get codeine too. There's a wonderful new book, HOW SHALL I TELL THE DOG? I keep asking myself (and the vet): How shall I kill the dog? And when?
- PRIDE & PREJUDICE
- RUDE AWAKENINGS OF A JANE AUSTEN ADDICT by Laurie Viera Rigler
- CONFESSIONS OF A JANE AUSTEN ADDICT by Rigler (again; even better after RUDE AWAKENINGS)
- LITTLE DORRIT, though Dickens's sentimentality & weakling heroines may have me reaching for Trollope's Palliser novels before too long
10 Comments on Same Old, Same Old, last added: 6/21/2009
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By: Bella Stander,
on 5/27/2009
Blog: Reading Under the Covers (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
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BEA checklist:
1) Get teeth cleaned at dentist.
2) Do laundry.
3) Get online boarding pass.
4) Dither over what outfits to pack.
5) Print out "Polish Your Pitch" workshop program.
6) Confirm party & dinner dates.
7) 9:15 pm - Plant sunflower & morning glory seeds outside in the dark.
Maybe, just maybe, I'll find time to do some blog posts from BEA. Then again, maybe not...
4 Comments on Off to BookExpo...and beyond, last added: 6/15/2009
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By: Bella Stander,
on 5/23/2009
Blog: Reading Under the Covers (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
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My one and only child was born at 12:26pm on May 23, 1989. He was due on May 13, but--setting a pattern for later life--arrived in his own time, well after I was completely exasperated. (That's him at left, age 5, styled by himself, down to the sticker on his right shin.)
Those last 10 days were the longest in my life. I lay like a beached whale, reading a one-volume collection of Jane Austen, interrupted by phone calls from family and friends to see whether I'd given birth yet. I got so fed up that I started responding, "Yeah, I had the baby and didn't tell you," or "I decided not to have the baby, and just stay pregnant forever."
I went into labor around 6:00am on May 22. It felt like mild menstrual cramps. Wow, I thought, this is going to be easy! How wrong I was. After 30 hours of fruitless and often agonizing labor, I had a caesarean section, and the Boy Wonder was pulled squalling into the world. At 9 lbs, 12 oz, he was 50% bigger than the next-largest baby of the 6 in the nursery at Wayne County General Hospital, in Honesdale, PA (best known as the home of Highlights for Children). Those 10 extra days in utero gave him a roll of fat at the back of his neck as thick as my pinky, huge round cheeks and a crease in his chubby chin. The discharging doctor called him "Moose."
That was the last time the Boy Wonder was fat. As I've often joked over the years, my plump little dumpling stretched out to be a long piece of spaghetti. More like capellini, as he's now 6'4" and 132 lbs. I call him "the human hummingbird," because he has to eat his weight daily to stay alive. Well, almost: 4 meals, plus big snacks. When he was with the Obama campaign, he managed to lose weight while having 2 super-sized Big Macs and a milkshake for lunch, plus an equally big breakfast and dinner.
Now my little baby is an Economics major. Today I was working in the garden, dressed in the Carhartt men's overalls (women's pants are never long enough) I bought as my first maternity outfit. And tonight I'll continue rereading Pride and Prejudice, from the same volume I read in what was truly a lifetime ago.
The Boy Wonder at Obama's acceptance speech in Denver (detail of photo that ran in NYT 8/30/08).
7 Comments on It Was 20 Years Ago Today, last added: 5/27/2009
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By: Bella Stander,
on 5/17/2009
Blog: Reading Under the Covers (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
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A couple of years ago I planted a Stayman Winesap apple tree in my backyard. I since found out that it's self-unfruitful, meaning it needs another variety to pollinate it. Yesterday I bought two Cortland apple trees at Home Depot, instead of a Cortland and a Jonagold, (mis)remembering that they were good pollinators for Stayman. I just did some online research and found out that Cortland and Jonagold are the absolute wrong trees to plant with Stayman, as they won't cross-pollinate. Not that the Stayman has produced any flowers to date. But, ever the eternal optimistic (or deluded) gardener, I want to be ready for next year.
Deep into my Google search, I found this tidbit on a website about old apple varieties:
During the American Revolution, captured Hessian soldiers held near Winchester VA planted an orchard with Fameuse (aka Snow) apples.
My curiosity piqued, I did a search for Hessian soldiers Virginia, and found some fascinating--and appalling--stuff.
In a Wikipedia article on Winchester:
Hessian soldiers were known for walking to the high ridge north and west of town and purchasing and eating apple pies from the Quakers. Thus, this ridge west of town became affectionately known as Apple Pie Ridge and the Ridge Road built before 1709 leading north from town was renamed Apple Pie Ridge Road.In the New York Times there is a March 31, 1912, article with the innocuous headline Virginia Mountains Shelter Colony of Lost Hessians.
And then there's the subhead:
Descendants of Hirelings in Revolutionary War Who After Their Release Took Refuge in Gloomy Hills Near Charlottesville, Live There in Rude Huts, A Law to Themselves and a Forgotten Band.Those would be the same hills that visitors ooh and aah over when I take them for drives around C'ville.
The article tells how, after the Revolution, Hessian soldiers who had been imprisoned in Charlottesville (which named Barracks Road and Hessian Hills after them) took off and settled in the nearby Ragged Mountains, "a small range of black, gloomy hills." The Times's anonymous reporter then wrote, apparently forgetting that Hessians were, um, Saxons:
As we have recently learned, the Blue Ridge mountaineers are a fearless, lawless folk of the purest Anglo-Saxon blood. They have a native intelligence and furnish the best kind of material for a civilization to be built upon. A good citizen can be made out of a Blue Ridge dweller when put in the right environment....Wow! It gets even better:
The Hessians are quite different. They have little if any understanding of modern morality. Marriage is a luxury, which has seldom lingered at their doors.
There is hardly a cabin in these mountains which does not harbor an idiot, the result of atrocious family relations.
When neighbourly quarrels arise they usually fight it out with sticks and stones and their big bony fists. Firearms are reserved for the wild turkeys and quail.The reporter supposedly heard a woman being beaten by her husband. Next day the reporter asked her brother what he was going to do about it. The supposed reply?
The Hessian women do most of the heavy work. The men cut a little wood and train the coon dogs. If the women become unruly they are whipped by their husbands.
"Well, I reckon I can't do much. Fact is, I was a beatin' my own wife last night."In the Good Old Days at the Newspaper of Record, I guess reporters weren't required to actually report and cite sources if unsubstantiated opinions and vaudeville jokes would do just as well.
P.S. Now I'm on the lookout for Delicious, Lodi, Honeycrisp, Golden Delicious or Fuji apple trees.
1 Comments on Follow the Apple, last added: 5/18/2009
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Congratulations.
That was a moving post.
Thanks, David!
Please tell me you are over horses for the moment!!
Possibly not the best choice of words, Warren. :)
Glad you enjoy Rhinebeck. My home town! Been following your blog for sometime now and was surprised when I saw where you were moving. It was a great place to grow up. Inside info, if any little kids visit you, take them to Stickles. And go to Holy Cow in Red Hook for some great ice cream!
Very funny, David! And Bill, thanks for the tips. I'm LOVING it here, though I could do without the ticks.